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Once upon a time, (here we go again)….

Hmm…

…Once upon a time, there was this little boy. A sweet little boy, he lived with his papa and mama, big brother and sweet Ol’ grandpa, in a large mansion on the top of the hill. His family although small, the house although huge, this little boy’s ‘home’ was full of love and caring. The light of his parents’ eyes, the one thing that little boy enjoyed the most, other than playing with and trying to imitate his older brother, and even more than the evening walks he used to have with his grandpa, and the stories of time past that the aging senior used to tell him, was…the safety of his mother’s embrace, and the lullabies she used to sing to him. This little boy, not only was he the happiest little boy in the whole wide world, he was also the healthiest one.

Unfortunately for little James Howlett, this boy we talk of, this happy healthy boy….this boy was not him.

----

“Turn around,” the matronly voice commanded and the diminutive seven year old youngster stepped back to comply. A quick inspection, a couple of perfunctory tugs and once again the same voice spoke. “Good. Now turn back.”

“Now head up and listen carefully,” drawn up, little James, the younger son of the Howlett household, tilted his head making space for the woman dressing him to close the top button of his shirt and set about at fixing his tie. The woman in question, old lady Hopkins, wasn’t his mother…who was always seemingly too busy to spare time for her second born. Whatever little time that she managed to wean from her many social commitments, Elizabeth Howlett, James’ mother, devoted to the two Johns in her life, one being her husband and the other being her elder son, John Jr.. As far as James was concerned, his faltering health and the various problems that never seemed to leave the boy, had long ago caused her to give up on him and move on with her life. In fact, had it not been for his father’s attention and care, James might as well have been an orphan, only one with his parents still alive.

“Don’t run around excessively. Don’t eat or drink anything anyone other than me or your father gives you. Don’t talk to strangers. Sit only in a clean place. Don’t play too much. Don’t….”

The list of don’t continued as did the subtle nods and ‘umm-hmms,’ that James gave in return.

“There,” flipping the collar back down, Mrs. Hopkins pressed it down by running her hands over it. “Finished. Now all that is left is your cap, jacket, muffler and gloves. Or do you want to wear mittens?”

“Gloves.” The boy responded evenly, not finding it odd that even though it was a cool, at the most mildly cold autumn day, why had he to don so many warm clothes on. For him, it was a way of life, one that he had grown up with. The only time that he truly got to dress loose was during the hottest days of summers. But even then, only in the evenings, as the day sun and heat wasn’t at all helpful with his sensitive skin. And all this was without the allergies that never left his side.

----

Minutes later,

Rushing down the stairs leading to the lower levels and to the dining room where his father would be waiting for him, James’s steps stilled at the harsh sound of his grand father berating the wasteful actions of his son.

“…I’m telling you, John. You are making a mistake, listening to that Human Resources manager of yours. Money doesn’t grow on trees boy. Don’t go about squandering it.”

“Father.” John Howlett’s voice carried a forced restrain that he seldom used with anyone else other than his father. Not that he needed with anyone else than the elder Howlett. “I’m not you father. I have a different way of doing things….”

“Different? PAH!” The old man snapped at him, jerking his head away as an added affect. “You seem to forget who you are and who they are. They are our servants, not the other way around.”

It was a rant that John had heard it many times before. In fact, every time that his father made the trip, venturing away from the Howlett Estate in Alberta, it was the same rant, all over again.

“And what do you think you are doing taking in those muties?” This was a comparatively new one, the next one wasn’t. “First you not only give work to the colors and the natives, you also deem them intelligent enough to actually think for themselves, an’ more importantly fer you. And now this….this…. Have the fear of God boy.” He ended, uttering the curse, “Damn Abominations,” under his breath.

“Are you finished?” James slipped back into the shadows at the cold in his father’s voice. “Or do you have anything else you want to get off your chest?”

“Hmph.” The old man turned his head away, walking away towards the open window.

Knowing that anything he would say to his father would be akin to pouring water over an upside down glass, John Howlett sighed, gently thumped his fist against the armrest of the sofa, got up and started in the opposite direction, heading towards the door where James stood hidden.

For John Howlett, his relationship with his father had always been one of compromise, almost all of them on his side. Not only had the two had never been close during his younger years, but even after he reached adulthood, things had not improved…rather went from bad to worse, especially when John expressed a desire to become a doctor, an army doctor at that.

‘Where’s the money in that?’ Had been the first words out of his father’s mouth, right after he bellowed a ‘NO’ and asked him if he had lost his mind. A self made millionaire, the elder Howlett prided himself for his business acumen and accomplishments, taking for granted that his son would naturally want to join the family business and feel thankful for all that he had done for him.

“Its all yer mother’s fault,” he had told, blaming his already dead mother who had herself being a nurse in the Canadian Army in the Second World War. Even from his childhood it was clear that even though physically John would turn out like his father, the heart that beat inside him, beat on the same frequency as the woman who had given birth to him, the woman who had passed away when he was barely a teenager.

Things had gotten so bad that John had actually packed up and left, vowing never to return to build his life on his own and on his terms.

How he got from there to where he was now could explained with just one word…compromise.

That and ‘Heart Attack’.

---

“Hmm. Playing hide and seek are we?” Startled at being caught so easily, James stared up at his father, his eyes wide as saucers.

“N-No sir,” he shook his head, causing a few strands of his carefully combed back hair to fall out of place. “I-I…” he stammered trying to come with a plausible explanation.

“Looks like you are ready.” John got on his haunches, to the youngster’s eye level and with a gentle hand smoothed back the errant strands. Realizing that James had witnessed the altercation, he wanted to draw his attention away from that and to something happier.

Given his relationship with his father, John tried his best to avoid a similar future from developing between him and his children, and with John Jr. away to boarding school, all he had was little James here with him.

“Yes sir.” James answered, a bit easily this time.

“Breakfast?”
“Done.”

“Medicine?”
“Umm-hmm.”

“Good boy.” A gentle weighted pat against the boy’s slim shoulders and John pushed himself to stand. “Now lets see if Mrs. Thompkins is ready with your….”

“Here good sir,” the woman in question entered through the far end of the common area, one hand holding a small bag containing food, water and juice for James, along with his lunch time medicine, while the other handled a rectangular box filled with the youngster’s toys. A third thing, a large black umbrella, she had grasped under her left arm.

Handing it over to another servant who carried them out to the car, she walked…waddled rather to the masters’ side, zipping up James’ jacket and pulling over the hood once she got there.

Once fixed, the three of them made their way to the main door, James beaming at getting a chance to go out for so long…almost a full half day.

----

A few hours later,

“You want this?” With almost two and a half hours since they first meeting and a lunch break between them, James extended the offering he had made all that time ago.

“What?” Ororo glanced up from her drawing book, catching site of James holding his Batman and Superman action out to towards her.
“It’ll make a comple’te set,” he tilted the Batman figure towards her Wonder Woman doll. “Even this is okay now.” That comment was for Superman, whose had gotten his head back on his shoulders, courtesy of John.

Her initial suspicion all but gone with an easy camaraderie taking its place, Ororo changed her answer from the last time. “Sure.”

However, even as she extended her hand towards the dolls, she stopped midway. “Wait. What if she comes me again?” She jerked her head towards Mrs. Hopkins sitting a few tables away, busy talking to some other old lady.

Ororo was pretty sure that she did not like this old white woman. She had scolded her, not once but twice. The first time was when she sat on the same table as James. That problem had been solved by the appearance of James’ father, who told the angry lady to let her, Ororo, sit there. Being a good girl, Ororo had thanked him, complete with a nod. That she did it after her father gestured her to, did not matter to her. The second time had been during lunch. This time it was because of Ororo’s offer to share food with James.

“He don’t eat that,” the old lady had near about bellowed, causing John to step in again, just seconds before Ororo broke into tears for the second time in two hours. With gentle words he had explained that James was not feeling well and therefore could only eat food that had been specially prepared for him.

“Mrs. Hopkins,” James leaned sideways to get a look at his governess, only to straighten up seconds later and push the dolls towards his new friend. “She won’t say nothin’ now. Papa told her not to. You can have them if you want.”

“Okay.” She leaned in again until, “Wait,” once again her pudgy chocolate toned fingers stilled inches away from his alabaster pale ones. “Why’re you givin’ it to me? Its yours. What if you wanna play with them ‘gain?”
“I have more at home.” His response contained no lies. “Lots of ‘em. But don’t have anyone to pway with. You take these and then we can have to sides.”
“Oh. So you are only giving me to play with?” Ororo asked, her face scrunching up at thinking that it was for all time.
“Yeah.” James did not grasp her unspoken ‘only for now’. “They’re toys. What else does one do with them? You take ‘em and pway with them. Then when you want, you pway with them again.”
“Oh.” The way his new friend burst out laughing confused James even more.
“What?”
“Y-You,” she managed between chortles. “You say pway.”
“Huh?” It was clear that her comment did not find their mark.
“You say pway. pway.” Her laughter abating, Ororo tried again. Getting the same lost look, she clarified. “You said pway ‘stead of play, silly.” She smacked her head.
“Oh,” finally getting it, James blushed profusely. “I do that som’time. Also say bub in’sted of bub, I mean,” concentrating intently, he corrected himself. “rrr...rub.”

The laughter of the both children echoing across the now more than half empty hall, drew the attention of quite a few of the other children and a couple of the adults, but only for a few seconds, after which they were left to their own devices.

Finally sobering up, a glimmer in her eyes at the two toys lying prone next to her Wonder Woman doll, her hair slowly but steadily having fallen free, Ororo felt that she too should give something in return.

“But I don’ have anythin’ to go give you.” She spoke frankly, if a bit bluntly.

“’s ok.” His cheeks still sporting a rosy hue, nodded his head, stopping midway as if struck by an idea. “Hey, you know what.”
“What?”
“Next time you come, you bring your toys and I’ll bring my other ones. Then we can play with each other.”
“Okay.” The proposal was instantly accepted. “We can have a tea party too.”
“Tea party?!” It was James’ turn to hesitate. “I can’t drink tea.”
“Its not real tea stupid.” This time Ororo smack his forehead. “Its make b’leve tea. An’ cookies too. Its fun.”
“More fun than superheroes?” That playing make believe tea party would be better, more fun than playing heroes, was something James wasn’t too sure about.
“Yeah. It’s the bestest thing. Even betta than supaheroes.”

“Uh…’kay.” Although relenting, James’ acceptance did not ring with confidence. “But we’ll play superhero too.”
“Only if I get to be W’nder Woman.” Ororo was quick to cover basis.
“’k. An’ I’ll be Batman.”
“Why do you want to be him? He can’t fly. Not like W’nder Woman or Supa’man.”
“Yeah, but he’s the coolest.” James rushed to his hero’s aid. “An’ he just like us.”
“Hmmm.” Musing for a couple of seconds, Ororo dispended that thought. “Maybe. But still, he can’t fly. W’nder Woman can fly. An’ you know what.”
“What?”
“Seein’ her, makes me wanna fly too.”
“Now who’s silly,” James giggled at her. “Flying. Real people don’t fly.”
“They do.” Ororo defended her position. “An’ one day I will too.”

“Yeah. Like that’s going to happen.” James shook his head.
“It will.” Ororo pouted, sticking her lower lip out. “It will. It will. It will.”

“’k. ‘k. It will.” James finally relented, but not before expressing his own hope.

“The same day that I stop being sick and grow strong....jus’ like Batman.”

Note: Well, now that this is out of the way, we can get onto the mature stop. But don’t worry (an’ get your head out of the gutter). They are not going to become adults just yet.

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