Lizette dropped the letter onto the big oak desk and slumped back into her late father’s favorite leather chair while stifling a sob. She wasn’t crying because she missed him. She did of course but she was well past crying about it that at this point. It had been six months since he died in the accident at the factory and the shock had finally worn off. She had to take a sympathy leave from her studies at MIT and fly home to New York to deal with all the arrangements for the funeral. Who’d of thought that a multi-millionaire like her father wouldn’t have had any of that planned? After that there was the business end of things to take care of. He had left her everything. All the companies, all the holdings, all the money, even the mansion was switched over into her name. Owning it all overnight was a lot to get used to at age nineteen.
The day after all the papers were signed her father’s lawyer had shown up at the mansion with one more thing to take care of. She met him in her father’s study, the same room she was in now, and he handed her an envelope with strict instructions that she only read it once she was alone and to not share the contents with anyone. He bid her good day and left.
Her tears were from pure frustration. No matter how many times she read his letter it was just too weird and she couldn’t make any sense of it. Leaning forward she picked it up off the desk and read it for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“My dearest Lizzy.
If you are reading this something has gone terribly wrong and I am dead.
Please know that I love you more than you can ever know. I’m sorry I must have seemed like I was always working or that I never spent as much time with you as I should have. If I could do it all over again you are the one thing I wouldn’t change in my life.
Liz there is so much about me that you don’t know. Things I should have told you about but I just couldn’t find a way. These are things that no one else knows. No one else could know while I was alive. But now that I’m gone I’m going to have to trust in that big brain of yours to figure things out on your own. I hope you can handle what you discover.
I will always love you.
PS – I always loved our discussion about tweets!”
Liz wiped her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. What the hell did he mean there was so much she didn’t know? There are always things that children don’t know about their parents. Was it about the business? Or was it personal? If it was personal was it about him? Or her? She was told her mother died in childbirth but what if this meant she was adopted? Now that would be something he would have had trouble finding a way to tell her. She sighed. Thinking like this was getting her nowhere.
The most frustrating thing about the letter was that last line – “I always loved our discussion about tweets!” What the hell was that about? They never tweeted to each other once! She checked and her father didn’t even have a Twitter account. Tears started to form at the corners of her eyes again. She threw the letter onto the desk and stood up, wiping her eyes. She was getting nowhere, only more and more frustrated.
As she brought her hands down from her face she found herself staring at the huge photo on the wall across from the desk. Her father had bought it several years ago and she never really liked it. She thought her father had paid too much for it at the time. They had argued about it for weeks. Liz thought her father was just buying it to try to get into the pants of the lady who owned the art gallery. He told her she didn’t know art. It soon became a taboo subject. It was a black and white photo of the bottom half of a man’s face. His mouth was wide open and his tongue was sticking out. Standing on his tongue was a small black bird of some sort. At five feet tall and roughly twelve feet long the photo took up most of the wall.
“Huh,” Liz said to photo, “You look like you’re sending a tweet.”
She suddenly had an idea.
“No. It can’t be. It just can’t be.”
Liz sat back down and after a quick search on her father’s computer found what she was looking for. The name of the photo was “Tweets”.
She walked across the room to have a closer look at the photo. Upon inspection she noticed that the right hand side of the frame was hinged to the wall. She went to the left and side and pulled. Nothing happened. She placed her hand on the glass to give it a gentle push, thinking it was latched somehow. The glass shimmered around her hand and there was a beep and a click. The photo swung away from the wall to reveal a hallway gently sloping down. As she stepped forward lights went on down the length of the hall and a computer voice said –
“Welcome. My condolences on the passing of your father. Please follow the lights. I have much to tell you Miss Wayne.”
Note: For those of you out there who are not a huge nerd/geek like I am you may not ‘get’ the twist to this tale. Allow me to explain – ‘Wayne’ is the last name of Bruce Wayne, a millionaire industrialist who also happens to be Batman.
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