Officer Alex explains who he is (and isn't) to an inquisitive child
“Are you Batman?” a child asked me while sitting for a moment in Coolidge Park.
“No,” I said with a good natured smile. “I’m not Batman. Why do you ask?”
“Because Batman wears black, and has a utility belt, and doesn’t have superpowers. I think you’re Batman,” the boy of around age six said flatly. My smile faded. No superpowers? What the hell?
“Well I don’t wear a mask, but I do have superpowers, thank you very much.” Now his smile faded as well.
“Everyone knows who Batman really is. You don’t need a mask,” he said with surprising confidence. Then, squinting his eyes, he asked, “What is your super power then?”
“Cynicism,” I said flatly. He tilted his head now, to accompany the squint. “What’s that?” he asked.
My smile returned. “It’s the ability to always know the truth. It makes my guesses better than anybody else’s and keeps me from ever being wrong, or emotionally scarred.”
“Emotions can get scarred?” he asked, doubt giving way to concern.
“Oh, yes! Most of my emotions are scarred actually, so I use cynicism as a blanket around them to protect what’s left. That’s what my therapist says anyway, but she’s a nice lady so I believe her.”
“Is a thare-ah…a therapiss like a doctor?” he asked, still standing in front of me with what I hoped was his (smoking) hot mother in the distance behind him.
“Oh, yes!” I said enthusiastically. “They make policemen talk to them sometimes, so that they can be allowed to come back to work after crazy things happen. They’re doctors for your mind.” I paused, considering my own spontaneous utterance. “They like to ask questions. Say, you like to ask questions, too! Maybe you could be a therapist when you grow up?”
Again, the young man fired back without hesitation. “Oh no, I’m going to be an arch-detector like my mom’s boyfriend. He draws pictures of buildings and they give him money for it. When you say crazy things, do you mean like when you fight the Joker?”
“I’m not Batman,” I said now with a hint of annoyance, “…but yes. Some bad guys are like the Joker and they do super ultra mega bad things and they make policemen take time off of work so they don’t go cray-cray. You can’t have cray-cray policemen, or they make a movie out of you and you’re sad forever and you have to pick up trash on the side of the road and avoid eye contact with people!” I smiled. “I think being an architect is a really good idea though. You’ll be a good one.”
I glanced around the park. “Is your mommy’s boyfriend here today?”
“No. He travels a lot. Do you keep your uniform with you in a bag or something so you can put it on if bad guys try to take over your party or fundraiser?”
I maintained my smile, but closed one eye slightly. “Listen. I’m not Batman. I don’t have fundraisers. I don’t even have credit cards! I work with cash as much as possible to maintain a light digital footprint, but not much of it. Is mommy happy when her boyfriend is gone? Or sad?”
“She seems happy, I dunno, but sometimes I hear her cry at night.” He paused and looked at the radio on my right hip. “Is that how you talk to Commissioner Gordon?”
Now I kept a hint of the smile but raised my eyebrows. “Listen. I’m not Batman. There is no Batman except in comics. People aren’t ready for that, plus the only people with mansions like his are politicians and they don’t have the stomach for dealing with criminals unless they’re giving them money.”
The young man actually nodded and said “That makes sense. It was nice to meet you, but I think we’re about to go.” His mother walked up after watching us interact for a bit.
“Hello,” she said with a shy look on her face, chest heaving with anxiety. She smelled of pomegranate lotion and boredom. “I think it’s so sweet for you to take the time to talk to my little Harrison like this.” She extended her hand, palm facing slightly downward, a smile building on her face like the sun rising on a cloudless Caribbean morning. “What’s your name, Officer?”
“Why, I’m Batman of course,” I said, never missing a beat. “Pleased to meet you.”
When officer Alexander D. Teach is not patrolling our fair city on the heels of the criminal element, he spends his spare time volunteering for the Boehm Birth Defects Center.