Ororo looked around at her room. She couldn’t believe it. Her new living room was thrice the space of her meager apartment in New Brunswick, never mind the rest of her new space. Charles was gracious enough to give her a room with half a dozen sky lights and large half circular windows that led to a beautiful terrace. This was amazing. The furniture in the room was neatly placed and optimized the space around her.
The room was designed specifically to help negate her problems.
The light blues, yellows, and white trim that the room was painted in would make her feel as if she was riding the winds right here in the room. She dashed throughout the room until she came to her giant king-sized bed with a pillow top to make the hardest of hearts melt. The green and gold bed sheets finished off the earthen theme to the studio like space and called out to her. She backed up to her couch and threw herself on the bed just like she was told never to do buy her late father. This was amazing. She was treated more like family here than by her own self absorbed sister.
She nuzzled two of her eight pillows when she felt her pocket vibrate. After flipping it up, she groaned. It was Vy, again. Whenever she called after six she was looking for a babysitter or a house cleaner.
Ororo never understood her sister’s need to have everything handed to her. When their parents had gotten a divorce Vy and her father had come to America to live in the city. David had done very well for himself as a chief photographer at the New York Times and gave the daughter that chose to go with him everything he never had growing up, which of course was everything and anything at anytime.
Even when Vy had grown up, she had attached herself to a man who would give her the world on a rope. Ororo would never forget the time when she had a fight with Vy about how her son hadn’t learned any responsibilities. Vy didn’t want to be told how to raise her own son (and had said some nasty things about Ororo’s past) and figured the fight was finished. Ororo just shook her head sadly as she watched her sister put chiffon, silk, white, dark and shrinkable dirty laundry in the washing machine.
She was about to let her phone take the call, but changed her mind. Whatever Vy wanted, it was going to have to wait. For the first time in a long time Ororo actually had plans that didn’t include taking the two hour bus ride to Atlantic City in an uncomfortable dealer’s uniform.
“Hey, there Little Sis, how are you?”
“No,” was Ororo’s noncommittal reply.
“Wait? What?”
“The answer to the question is no. I have plans.”
“You haven’t even heard me ask, yet?”
“So you will be asking me for something, again, right? Vy I cannot believe you have not realized that you call me only when you want something. Do you not have a husband? Make him do it.”
“Dang girl, don’t be so selfish. You have tonight off.”
“Wha- - what. I…I’m sorry. Did you just call *me* selfish because it’s starting to look as if you will not be having a free babysitter tonight?”
“Look Ororo, I feel safest when I know you’re around Evan.”
“What in the world is that supposed to mean,” Ororo didn’t bother to keep the rising anger out of her voice. This conversation just went from bad to shitty in under four seconds. That had to be some kind of record. She waited for an answer through the thick awkward pause.
“Well, you know.”
“No, Vivian. I really do not know. Please explain.” Ororo sat up abruptly and rubbed her temples, trying in vain to dissipate the rumbling ominous clouds that made a sudden appearance over Westchester and were making a southeast track towards New York City.
“Do you remember when I told you about Evan’s strange behavior?”
“Yes, but you’re the one with a preteen. You should have to expect things like that.”
“Peer pressure, sure. Carelessly ignoring curfew, ok. Desperate for attention from girls, fine. But the sudden consumption of gallons of milk a day? Are you kidding me? Shredded pants and clothes, with no cuts or bruises? What the hell is that? And Roro, here’s the weirdest thing, I keep finding small pieces of bones, I think.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Maurice said that it’s nothing. Then he took it some pieces to the lab today.”
“And?” Ororo held her breath and got frustrated over the sudden static. “Vy? Hello?” The line was suddenly filled with static. Ororo blew out a long slow breath to quiet her emotions.
“Ororo? Dammit. You have got to stop doing that. I’m sorry, ok. What else am I supposed to do?”
“How about being a mother whom he feels comfortable enough to talk to?” Ororo heard her sister give an angry un-lady like snort.
“You self righteous bitch. That’s rich coming from you.”
Click.
Ororo slammed her phone on her dresser and let the thunder be angry for her. She knew that she would be getting an apology in a few seconds. Vy wanted something out of her and she apparently was desperate.
Soon enough Ororo’s favorite Broadway tune could be heard coming from her phone.
“Oh, Ororo, I am so sorry about that. You know how I can get when my mouth thinks faster than the rest of me. Besides I’m scared, actually I’m damn near terrified.”
“Of what exactly?”
“Ororo, please. Just talk to my son. I mean for crying out loud sake. What am I suppose to say to him if he is a m…”
“By the Goddess. This has nothing to do with me, or Evan does it. Or too chicken to even entertain the thought that *your* son may be a MU*TANT*.”
“Alright look, I made a mistake then. I’m sorry about that.”
“Of course, your sorry about that NOW, Vy. Five years ago I wasn’t allowed in the same room as Evan. ‘Mutations are a disease.’ I will never forget that conversation. When I proved that you were paranoid and delusional, the next excuse was, ‘ I don’t want Evan exposed to your devil-in-disguise worship. I don’t care if it’s Mom’s religion. That doesn’t make it right.’ That didn’t get very far for you, so then you went to your last argument to make sure I would not go near Evan.”
“I just apologized for brining that up again. Besides you just said, it was five years ago. Things have changed. I’ve changed.” Vy sighed at Ororo’s short laugh and continued. “More importantly, Evan is changing. Think about it, please?”
“Alright.” Ororo hung up. Great just great. Vy was going to get her way again. Surprise surprise.
Not bothering to look in the mirror, she threw a simple scrunchie in her hair, and smoothed out her clothes. She wanted to appear nonplussed at the dinner. Xavier had warned her about the other teacher ruffling her feathers. The last thing she wanted to do was to make an appearance with feathers already disjointed.
~X~
Charles looked at the formal dining room table and sighed with contentment. The catering company had come in and dressed everything, polished the silver, and placed the food in an arrangement that would make the best of home makers seethe with jealousy. Everything sparkled and shone with the artfulness of a Norman Rockwell painting. He smiled at that thought. This would most likely be the last time his home would be in some kind of order.
The twelve seating table seemed to go on endlessly, but Charles pondered having the leaf put in for more room when he heard light even footsteps come through the foyer towards him. He looked down at his watch and smiled. Ororo was a big fan of punctuality.
He welcomed his new occupant with a heartfelt smile and beckoned her to a seat near him on his left.
“Charles, what is all of this. I was expecting something simple.”
“I’m sorry Ororo,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “I just had to put this to an orderly use. Hopefully this room will be filled with children, quick breakfasts’, yelling over milk, and early morning homework sessions.”
Ororo and Charles both laughed at that.
Leary to break the comfortable feeling with talk of business Ororo hesitated before she inhaled to ask her questions. “Speaking of the children, how do you plan on recruiting? How many can you house here? Am I doing more than just teaching? Is it a ten month job? Should I quit my other one? You spoke of other faculty, what are the duties they perform? Am I going to fast? What kind of curriculum are we building? Is this a primary source of education or a secondary source to Bayville?”
“All in due time Ororo. I was opening to not have to explain myself twice. But of course he’s late, again.”
“Who is?”
As if on cue, the cordless phone in the other room rang. Before Charles could maneuver his chair in reverse Ororo had left and come back with the phone.
“Hello,” she asked as she sat back down again.
The answer on the phone was a crowded and highly active crowd apparently getting violet. Glass was breaking, wood was snapping, curses and insults to make sailors cry were being thrown about. There was a loud bone crushing sound near the phone followed by a terrifying scream. Ororo pulled the phone back and furrowed her brows at it in disbelief. Just as she put it to her ear again the speaker grunted. Ororo looked at Charles filled with confusion.
“Chuck?” Ororo eyebrow lifted at the warn rumbly voice that seemed calm and smooth in the surrounding chaos. Generally the people who are calmest during upheavals are the ones responsible for it. She couldn’t imagine why someone with class and integrity like Charles Xavier would associate with someone like this man. “Yo, Chuck is that you?”
“Obviously not. Who is this?”
“This is a man who’s lookin’ to talk to Wheely. Now put’im on the phone, darlin’.” Before he had even gotten to the casual endearment Ororo was white-knuckling the phone in absolute anger. This man was worse than her sister. How was that even possible in a complete stranger! “Hey, nevermind on that, tuts. Chuck must be busy if he’s got a secretary doin’ the office work already…”
CLICK.
Charles shook his head. So far so good, he thought. He watched as Ororo gave up on her death grip on the phone, put it down carefully, and continued with her dinner as if nothing was wrong. She didn’t even know that her emotional armor was made out of cellophane. It was completely transparent.
“Ororo, when he calls back, can you put it on speaker.”
“Of course. Who was that man anyway? That was the most rude and arrogant person I have ever met. On top of that it sounded as if he was in a bar fight, and enjoying it.” She shivered as if covered in ants.
Charles smirked and leaned back in his chair. It looked as if it would just be the two of them tonight.
“That would be your other associate, Logan.” Charles grinded his teeth together to keep from laughing as Ororo’s straight face was suddenly marred by the involuntary tick in nose and upper lip.
Ring ring ring.
This it was Charles who reached for the phone and put it on speaker. “Logan, where are you?”
“Listen Chuck. I ain’t gonna be able to make it tonight. Something came up. [More obscenities, louder this time were being tossed around. Now there were people screaming death threat, and more glass was being broken.] I dunno when I’m gonna be back. Ya might wanna make the new guy go after the kid. Oh, while your at it, think about firin’ that secretary of yours. She’s got some mouth.”
~X~
Logan felt the cut of a glass bottle filled with alcohol seep into the skin of his back. He turned around and threw his pool stick at the person who threw the bottle. The poor “victim” didn’t know what had hit him as the force of the stick stopped him dead in his tracks and threw him against another pool table.
Logan turned back to the phone to finish his conversation but the line had gone dead. His sensitive ears picked up on the breaking news report on the only television left in the bar that hadn’t been broken. It was about some sort of sudden thunderstorm that took out power over parts of upstate New York.
As he quietly left the devastation and hopped on his Harley, he grunted. Sure enough, angry thick black clouds were waiting for him in the direction he was headed. “Just my friggin’ luck. The last thing I need to do is to ride right into a storm.”
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