To my utter non-surprise, not even a fleck existed.
There were no pictures of people. I guess that was to be expected. Sadness gripped my heart as I recalled Joe’s quiet admissions on the bridge that night. More than sadness, I felt a guilty pull of warmth. Joy, even.
Joy that I wasn’t alone. We were both orphaned. Both left to figure out a cruel world on our own. He’d obviously been better at it.
I died, and Joe was very much alive.
“I’ll place a hefty tip for priority delivery. Sounds good? Alright. Thanks.”
I’d ventured all the way over to the living room that was, oddly enough, a step down area. Three shallow steps and I was in the most cozy room so far. Twofluffy couches, one recliner beside a standing lamp, and a massive T.V. mounted on a floor-to-ceiling, bricked fireplace. There was even a fuzzy rug to keep my tosies warm.
“I didn’t know what kind of ramen you liked–”
“So you ordered them all?”
“Well, a few of them anyway.”
I lingered around the couch, not quite sure if I was fit to sit on it in my horrendous trash panda state.
“Would you like some dry clothes?” Joe offered. “I don’t have anything to fit you, obviously. I do have some sweats and comfy tees.”
“You?” I feigned shock, still procrastinating looking in his direction. “Sweat pants? I would have never guessed you the type, Mr. Wayne.”
“I keep them so I don’t have to give stray women my silk pajamas.”
He earned himself an unexpected snort that I had trouble reeling in.
“Fair enough. If you wouldn’t mind, dry clothes sound phenomenal.”
“This way to the bathroom.”
I waited for the soft pad of his feet before turning around to follow. We entered what could only be the master bedroom. From the tray ceiling above the bed and the pure size of the room, it was luxury in a family-style home.
Joe rifled through a drawer of neatly folded clothes before pulling out grey sweats and a plain white T-shirt. “The bathroom is over there.” He pointed to a white door behind him as he stood. “You can change in there. I’ve got towels, a hair brush, toiletries, whatever you need– oh shit.” He stopped short, eyes landing on my wrists. “Fuck, Dany. Did I do that to you?”
Confused, I followed his gaze and found blooming bruises on my wrists from the belt he’d bound me with.
Part of me was concerned. The other part, though?
If this is the price for normalcy… I think I could pay it.
“This is going to sound crazy, but hear me out.” I said, mustering some sass. “I ran into a doorknob.”
Anger won out then. “Goddammit Dany this is serious!”
Joe’s breath heated my face like a dragon ready to spew fire. “Okay, it wasn’t a doorknob. It’s fine, though, Joe,” I protested, crossing my arms to cover themarks. “If I didn’t like it I would have told you. And even if I hadn’t, Catwoman always finds a way to get revenge.”
My poor attempt at a joke didn’t go over well because Joe scoffed, obviously less than amused.
“Sit,” he commanded and gestured to the bed.
My ego flared at the command in his voice, and I could see the moment he recognized it in the clench of my jaw.
“Please,” Joe whispered, his voice full of pleading and compassion. “Sit.”
Rather than spit weaponized words, I bit my tongue.
What if, just this once, I let someone take care of me for a change? I swallowed down the venom and did as he asked. He knelt in front of me and began untying my sneakers with deft, practiced fingers.
