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It’s been four months, two weeks, and five days since Tim Drake had last seen his parents. He didn’t care, not really. This was the usual for him. It’s what he’s used to.
Because he had nothing better to do on this particular Sunday afternoon, Tim found himself walking slowly through the vividly decorated (yet at the same time empty) halls of the Drake manor. Even with all the material goods that filled his home, every step Tim took seemed to echo eerily. This would have scared an eight-year-old Tim Drake, but he was eleven now. Now, Tim wasn’t as scared of the empty manor as he used to be.
His parents didn’t tell him where they were traveling to this time, but Tim figured that they went straight to Argentina, where there was talk of a newly established dig-site. The Drakes loved archeology, and whenever there was even the slightest hint of something interesting or new, Jack and Janet Drake would immediately book tickets, pack their necessities, and kiss their son goodbye as they left for a couple of months. Usually, the Drakes would tell their son that they would be gone for only a couple of weeks, but Tim knew better. A couple of weeks would soon turn into a couple of months.
Once, Jack and Janet were gone for a year, but that didn’t bother Tim too much, even though they had originally told him that their trip would last about six months. He was only a little upset because his parents had promised him that they would make it home for Christmas, but their trip extended past December and into March. Tim knew it was selfish of him to wish that, but it hurt just a little bit that they so easily forgot about him.
Come to think of it, his parents always easily forgot about his existence. You would think that they would remember every once in a while that they have a son to come home to, or that they would even want to take their son with them on their trips. However, they did neither. Not that it bothered Tim.
He seemed to be telling himself that a lot these days.
Tim rounded a corner in the manor and found himself in front of the closed mahogany door of his parents’ room. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize where his feet had taken him.
Tim lifted his arm, allowing his hand to hover over the doorknob. His parents’ room was off-limits. It was a rule that was engraved into Tim’s mind ever since he learned to follow orders; and like all the rules he currently had, this one could not be broken. His parents would be livid if they found out.
Then again, how would his parents find out? They were never around, and it’s not like they spent their money on securing their house with surveillance cameras. There was never a point in spending their money on security. No, Tim’s parents wouldn’t catch him.
Tim’s hand tightened around the doorknob and twisted it. The heavy door opened with a loud creak (which made Tim cringe), and revealed the large master bedroom.
It felt foreign to Tim. The room, that is. He couldn’t remember the last time he entered his parents’ room. He couldn’t remember if he ever even entered their room. Children never really went in their parents’ rooms though, right? It wasn’t something that was required of everyone’s childhood.
A large king-sized sat in the middle of the room, right in front of where Tim was standing. The bed was made, not a crease in sight, and the plump pillows rested on top of where the beige quilt folded back to reveal the bottom of the sheets. The dark oak headboard was behind the pillows- and was that a layer of dust coating the top of the headboard? If Jack and Janet found even a speck of dust within their mansion, they would have a fit and fire the whole cleaning crew.
There were two stout nightstands on either side of the bed, and both were the same dark color of the bed frame. More dust was sprinkled on the top of the smooth surfaces of the nightstands, revealing that they had been unused for a couple of months. No lamps or books were found on or in the nightstands, which Tim felt was weird. Wouldn’t his parents want a soft light or a nice book easily accessible to them whenever they were home?
A dresser with a TV on top of it and a large wardrobe that resided in the corner of the room were the only other pieces of furniture in the master bedroom (other than the bed and nightstands, of course). Both of these pieces of furniture were also coated in a fine layer of dust. It seems to Tim that everything in his parents’ room was covered in dust. Even the floor was dusty- he could see his footprints. Tim found himself wondering if his parents told the cleaning crew to stay out of their room, like they had ordered Tim years ago. Tim’s room looked nothing like his parents’. But, then again, his bedroom also had someone always living in it. And it was always very, very messy despite the cleaning crew’s best efforts to keep Tim’s room in an acceptable, cleanly state.
What Tim noticed was that there was no evidence of a couple ever living or even sleeping here, in this room. You would think that for a couple that traveled all around the world, they would have trinkets from different countries littering the tops of the nightstands and the dresser. Tim knew that he would. It was like his parents didn’t even live here. It was like they didn’t want anyone to know that they slept here in between their many trips to different states and countries. Maybe that was what they wanted.
Tim backed out of his parents’ room and slowly closed the door leading to the master bedroom. There was a creaking noise this time as well, but it wasn’t as loud as when he had first opened the door, much to his relief. Not that there was anyone around to hear it. After making sure that the door to his parents’ room was firmly shut, Tim continued walking down the manor, every once in a while peeking into the rooms that made up his home.
As he continued walking through his home, Tim began to notice that the entire manor (save for his room) showed no evidence of a family living there, just like his parents’ room. Sure, not everything was covered in dust, and there actually were trinkets from different countries displayed around the mansion, but there was something about the manor that screamed “no one lives here.” His whole house was set up like a fancy museum with unwritten signs on each exhibit stating “Look, but don’t touch.”
It was unsettling, and it should have bothered him, but Tim convinced himself to not care. It’s how things have been, and it’s how things will always be. It’s what Tim was used to. This new discovery meant nothing to him.
If only that were true. Life would be so easy for Tim if he could successfully lie to himself, but he’s too smart to fool himself. Maybe if he kept repeating the same things over and over again, he could pretend that they were true.
Tim suddenly didn’t feel like continuing his walk through the manor. He found himself backtracking towards his room, the one place where he knew he was safe and welcome.
As soon as he was safe and sound in his room, he gently closed the door. His bedroom door didn’t creak like his parents’ door did. Tim didn’t know why that small detail mattered so much to him.