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Age: 17-21

So the half American child in the foreign continent of Africa has now returned to The United States and it was all but familiar. How did this man convince me to leave peace and familiarity for what, a society based on commodities? I admit this was once my home, But I did not remember much. He, Professor Charles Xavier, wanted to get my history and to inevitably pick my brain, but I was resistant at first. Later I would come to accept. I was shown around and introduced to the others. There was Scott, a young American boy. He was actually a year or two older than I but something about him seemed young. Perhaps it was the way he responded to Charles, like a father and his son. I was told you could tell a lot by a man’s eyes but his I could not see. So I was polite but I kept my distance. Attached to his hip was a young red head, Jean. She was rather pleasant and seemed eager to get to know me. That too was a bit overwhelming, but I can understand her wanting to get to know me, she was the only female in the mansion for a long time. Then there was the metal Russian, Piotr. He was quite charming yet shy in the beginning. Kurt perhaps took me off guard the most, but I learned there was nothing to be afraid of. He was thin, covered in wisps of fur all over and he was a most endearing midnight blue and most amusingly, he had a tail. If I could be a goddess, he could be a demon, but we were neither. He was such a gentleman from day one. My fondest memory of him in the early days, is one I will never forget, neither will Piotr or Logan.

I was eighteen and had been in America for about a year now. It had been a warm day and I wished to go for a swim, so I did sans bathing suit. I still could not wrap my mind around wearing clothes to swim. I was alone, so there was no harm. Twenty minutes later Piotr and Kurt appeared with a new resident Logan. As I lifted myself out of the water, all attributes very visible. I introduced myself Logan. Kurt immediately took off his robe and adverted his eyes while wrapping it around me.

“You Westerners and your rules. I fear I will never understand them all.” I sighed.

“I’m German, Fraulin.”

“I’m Russian”

“I’m Canadian,” We enjoyed a laugh.

“I do hope you enjoy your stay here Logan.” I smiled and walked back inside leaving Logan with a cigar half lit hanging from his lips and a wide-eyed Russian, whose heart beat loudly against his tin chest. But I did hear their next comments as I stepped away.

“Mein Gott! That woman’s going to give me a heart attack.”

“Tovarich, Russian women don’t look like that.”

“What a woman!!” Logan said with a mile wide grin. “I just may like it here.”

Time past and we all came together, an adopted family, for most of us. We all became close in one way or another. Scott and Jean were as serious as ever about each other. Logan often interjected his self between them just to stir Scott’s blood and to make Jean blush. I would sit back and watch all this transgress and could not help but think that there was something wrong with me. I did not always feel this way at the mansion but there were times it would be a consuming thought. Back in Kenya, I was worshipped. Men and women kneeled at my feet. Here, I was just another woman, but I often felt I was just a girl. These were major feelings to overcome. This was a major change. In this house of men there was only two women, Jean and I. Jean was by far more extroverted than I. I would almost swear she loved the attention she received. She apparently did not feel threatened by my presence because she still commanded much of the attention. As selfish as she may have been in that way, she still proved to be my best friend and I love her still. But it still got to me, her relationship with Scott that is. I could have been married to a prince right now, but there I was, alone in a strange land. Sometimes those feelings came over me again but I had learned to control them for the most part. I had found it best to come up with a hobby, something I like to do. I thought about it for a while and it seemed that everything I thought of could get me arrested in this country, but once again Charles came to my rescue.

“Ororo, you do not seem to be at peace.”

“I am fine I assure you.” He smiled at my English. It had gotten much better. I had to relearn a lot of things when I came to the mansion, especially how to read in English. Achmed made sure that I was not like all the other children. He made sure I could read and write Arabic, French, Swahili and a little English, but I was out of practice in all those things.

“Well, I have something for you. It is specifically for you and you may do with it as you wish. Will you come with me?”

“Y...yes, but why would you do something for me? I did not ask for anything.”

“You need not had to have asked. I am happy to do things for all of you if you need it.” We stopped in front of a vacant window-paned structure. It was breath taking.

“Charles, it is a Greenhouse, a beautiful one at that.”

“Is that what you see, Ororo? A greenhouse?” He looked at me with those all-knowing eyes. “This is yours to do what you wish with. If it is a greenhouse in your eyes then that is what it shall be.”

I do not think I have ever been given anything as thoughtful ever. I loved him from that moment on and he knew it. I did not have to tell him, I had almost been moved to tears and that was enough for him, but was it enough for me? I had to tell him. “Thank you…father.” I felt I had to say it. No one since my biological father and Achmed, had anyone treated me with so much respect and love, had tried to teach me and cultivate the inner beauty. These men and life’s lessons has in part made me the woman I am today. He looked up at me. For once, I could not meet his eyes. My blushed hue must have given off a fair amount of heat or perhaps he felt my emotion and the truth in my words, because he grasped my hand in the most gentle of gestures and a tear escaped my eye. I give that moment credit for when the goddess finally came to Earth and realized how human she was.

Days passed and I was allowed the peace of my greenhouse, but I made it open to everyone. The time that I spent setting up tables and specific climate regions, I thought about the moment he gave this paradise to me. I thanked him and called him father. I questioned my decision. Should I have done that? Should I have elevated him to that status in such short of time? But then I thought of all the things he has done for me and all the time we have spent together. I enjoyed his company late at night when I could not sleep. He taught me how to play chess, a game of the mind. It did not take to long to get the hang of the game and eventually I beat him once or twice. We had late night talks on everything, especially books. Once I was reintroduced to reading, I took to the library easily. He then suggested that I was smart enough to finish school and so I did. It was all well worth it. There were many stories I did not share with him on those nights but I assume he has withheld many things from me as well. After all, we must be able to keep certain things to ourselves. I concluded that I was not mistaken in my choice of words.

Nursing my plants took my mind off of many things and it was my favorite pastime in my free time. Little did I know that so much time has passed that my twenty-first birthday had come. I was legal and the professor had given my housemates permission to show me a great time at night on the town at his expense. Looking back and knowing Jean, she would have anyway. We all went out, Jean, my confidante and sister, Scott, our auspicious leader, Piotr, my brother, and Logan, a man whom I did not know what to make of, but he was a friend. When Jean was ‘preoccupied’ with Scott, which was often, I could find a friend in Logan, the Wolverine, claws and all. The professor stayed at the mansion and Kurt was in Germany at the time, so the five of us enjoyed a night in New York City. They said I could do anything I wanted, but the one thing I wanted to do I had done earlier that day. Charles invited me to his office.

“Yes, Professor?”

“There was a reason why I asked you here. When you first came here, Ororo, you had no recollection of your part of your past. You are twenty-one and officially legal. Through some extensive work and help from a friend, I found some information that I think you’d appreciate.” He handed me a file that I would later learn held the beginning of my life.

“By the goddess, professor, how did you get this?”

“I have connections.”

“My parents…”

“David and N’Dare Munroe. That would make you Ororo Munroe. You were born at Harlem hospital and lived in a brownstone on 135th and Lenox Avenue. Your mother was an African Princess and your father a photographer here in New York, the city to be exact and that brings me to my next surprise.”

“There is more? I do not know if I can handle anymore.”

“This I assure you, you can handle this. A few days ago at a gallery, I ran across an exhibit on Africa tribal/traditional family. I believe it was called ‘Revisiting the Family’, it displayed photographs of the various family structures in Africa. There was one photograph of a young woman, an extraordinarily beautiful woman. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen in the picture. Anyway, I thought of you when I saw it so I had to get it. So, if you go behind my desk it is there wrapped. Go on, go get it.”

I looked at him a little nervously but said thank you none-the-less. “Don’t thank me yet.” He retorted with amusement and anticipation. “Go on, open it.” I did and then I sat there shocked beyond belief. In that picture my own face stared back at me but the caption below it read ‘Princess N’Dare’ and right below the caption a picture of my father. Looking up at him with tear stained eyes, “Is this really my mother and my father? I mean, of course there is not a doubt, but it seems so unreal. I had long forgotten the clarity of their faces. Thank you. I am not sure if just saying thank you is enough. This is… I mean, there are no words for how I feel.”

“Then that is all the thanks I need. I think your parents would be proud of the women you have become.” After taking several deep breaths, I got up and kissed him long but chastely on the lips. There was no confusion in that kiss, he knew it was totally gratitude, and I would do it again a thousand times over.

I went into the city later that day. I felt there a stop that I needed to make, to bring a sense of peace and to find an iota of familiarity. I found both. The familiarity I searched for I found in Central Park. Flashbacks began to swarm through my mind like misguided bees and then I remembered one of the last times I was with my parents in this city. Mother, Father, and I spent the entire day in the park. We walked the entire perimeter and circumference of the park starting at 110th street. There were various stops we made along the way, like at Wolman Skating Rink, Cleopatra’s Needle, the Children’s Petting Zoo, the Central Park Zoo, and other places. Every now and then, mother wanted to take a break from walking so we stopped at a few of the many playgrounds. She would sit on the bench while daddy and I made use of the park. I loved the swing. I would always beg to be pushed higher, but he said that would probably give mommy a coronary. I did not understand then but at that point I could care less because I was with him, with them and I was safe. The only time we exited the park was to eat and then to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He said he wanted to show me the exhibit on Egypt, where we would be going. So I went to the MET again, fifteen years later and sadly without my parents. Amazingly, there was still an exhibit on Egypt, though updated, I still felt as though it was the first I saw it, like all those years ago. I got what I came for.

So we went out that night, the five of us. Piotr was the youngest of our five, but he was allowed in with us. Jean and I together could charm a snake from its skin. We went dancing and for a few drinks. I was not a drinker then and I am not much of one now. One of Achmed’s lessons involved alcohol and how to handle it. I was a fast learner and I did well, but I did not see the point in attempting to drink oneself unconscious. That night Jean and Scott were inebriated to say the least. Piotr nursed his second drink and danced some. It was quite a sight to see the tall Russian shake his groove thing with 5’5 plastered blonds. I still laugh even now. Logan and I were the designated adults for the night, mostly because Logan cannot get drunk and I did not wish too.

It was late and we gathered the gang and headed back home. Logan drove, and I sat in the passenger seat. Piotr was asleep in the seat behind us and Jean and Scott were mating in the back seat. I was amazed that they had the self-control to keep on their clothes, but every now and then someone hands would disappear and I nor Logan wished to know where it went. Reaching the mansion, Piotr helped Scott and jean inside, but as I went to exit the hand on my arm stopped me. I was more than a little surprised.

“Yes, Logan, what is it? Is there something wro…” My words were cut short with is mouth. I was unprepared for the feeling of him and at the same time the feel of him was not the same as his exterior would make it seem. His lips were like velvet, very soft to the touch. They were moist but firm. I gave in. How could I not give in? After what seemed like time standing still we broke apart.

“Why should Scott and Jean have all the fun?” I smiled. I did a lot of smiling then. “Happy Birthday ‘Ro,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Thank you, Logan… in more ways than one.” I whispered. He chuckled. Somehow I knew he would hear that. I could not take it back now, but if I was mistaken there was something I could only described as passion behind that kiss. Oh, well. We were definitely friends and I had a very happy twenty- first birthday.





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