1. Marie is my girl.
I thought she'd be pissed when she found out I thought of her as "my girl." She hates it when I get all manly and possessive about her, but I can't help it--she's my girl.
So we're sitting at lunch one day: me, Marie, and Amy Munroe and Scott comes in and sits next to Marie. He leans over and says in a conspiratorial voice Guess who passed her French test with flying colors. Bastard. Marie did a very girlish thing (disgusting) and squealed and threw her arms around him. She even went so far as to kiss him through his hair, which I feel was totally unnecessary. Of course, I had to put my foot down. I molded my face into the nastiest glare I could muster and I said Hey Scooter, stay away from my girl.
Marie's mouth dropped open and she leapt up from the table and yanked me with her. In the hall, she flung me against the wall. It hurt. I think I hate that she's stronger than me.
Anyway, I'm thinking she's mad at me and I'm not sure what to do when she walks right up to me and says So you really think I'm your girl? How to respond... I throw caution to the wind and say Yeah.
She always surprises me. She smiled and kissed her gloved fingers and pressed them to my lips. I've kissed a dozen or more women and none of their mouths ever felt so good as those warm fingertips. She did that and almost skipped away, leaving me reeling. I said she was my girl and she agreed. Then Scott walked into the hall and saw me. I think the smirk on his face still lives under every other facial expression he shows me.
Scott leaves and I see little Amy Munroe peeking her head around the corner. She gives me a thumbs-up and disappears. I swear there's something wrong with that kid. She actually seems to like me.
2. Logan and Marie.
They make me laugh. I'll never get over seeing Logan almost doubled over in the hallway and Marie trotting off like her birthday had come early. There was the big man, the Wolverine, the badass Canuck, the guy who likes to flip me off with his claws all mushy because of a GIRL.
Ha ha ha fucking-ha. Now he knows what it's like to see the woman you love and want to drop everything you're doing just to walk next to her. And he knows what it's like to have another guy getting in your space. He also knows what it's like to have someone smirking behind your back all the time.
Jean gets a kick out of it, too. Every night while she's taking out her earrings and I'm brushing my teeth, we exchange the daily Logan/Rogue gossip.
Did you see Logan's face while was Marie talking to Bobby today? He looked like he was trying not to wet himself.
I missed that one, but he dragged her down to the infirmary today because he thought she might have sprained her wrist playing soccer. He wouldn't leave until I'd done at least four different X-Rays and a bone scan. He made me do a bone scan, Scott! I hate those!
Jean shakes her head and shuts her jewelry box and exchanges her high heels for slippers. I rinse my mouth out as she leans against the doorway of the bathroom.
First of all, it should be noted that I thank God for two things every day of my life: the way Logan melts at Rogue's feet and, of course, Jean, who is smiling at me from where she's standing like she knows something I don't. She beckons me with with her finger and starts walking toward the bed.
What can I do but follow?
3. My daughter.
Amy is one of the two centers around which my life revolves. The other center is the X-Men because fighting with them is fighting for my daughter. There used to be three centers, but my husband died on a mission that nearly killed us all. If I wanted to let him, he could still be a center, but that would be anchoring myself to the past. I'd rather focus on my daughter's future. I haven't forgotten him, though. His picture is on my dressing table, a black strip of fabric in the corner of the frame.
Amy is seven, going on twenty-five. I'm so glad she is old enough to remember her daddy. She was five when he died and I do regret that she had to endure the loss. She's okay, though, I think. Her powers showed up very early because of the stress, but she has a degree of control that would become someone three times her age. I could control the weather when I was young, but it was a shaky control at best and how I felt would often influence the skies.
I think that control comes from hardship suffered early in life and from Alan, who had all of our clothes alphabetized according to color. She keeps her shoes organized according to the height of the heel.
Her meticulous nature makes her cautious and she looks out for us both. When Remy started smiling at me more than any other woman in the place, she immediately caught on. If he followed me out of a room, she was there. I swear to God Logan must have taught her a few things because she could stay invisible for minutes before either of us would know she was in the room. Logan would have been more than happy to give Remy a hard time, I think, because Remy had his eye on Marie for a while. Maybe it's just him because Amy tailed Remy whenever he walked off after her, too. He hints of danger and he has been known to mix different shades of black, which clashes with her idea of what a man ought to be.
I like Remy, though. On the off chance that we do get a moment alone, he is very sweet. He actually turns off the flattery when we talk and I think I'm starting to love him. He has been nothing but patient with me and Jean told me that he seems like a happier person for it.
I would never feel right with him, though, if Amy didn't approve. I tried talking to her but she kept saying that she didn't trust him, she didn't trust him. Then he took her horseback riding one day when I had the flu and she thought that was reason enough to give him a chance. I guess she found out the he's not so bad.
It's been a couple of months now. I think she might move over and make room for him in the center of my life because she knows that she will never lose her place.
4. Quirks.
Life has them and when a few of them come my way, I feel human. Everyone thinks I'm perfect. I've heard it in hallway whispers before, both admiring and resentful. Charles always asks me if I'm okay, like the illusion of perfection is something in me he can't get past. I am neat and organized. I've been told I'm pretty, that I dress well, that my voice is soft and pleasing. Training keeps me in a size four. But I'm not perfect.
About a two years after we were married, Scott told me that he didn't really want kids, especially with them everywhere around us. Everywhere but in our room. I think it was his typically gentle way of telling me that it was okay that I couldn't conceive. No one knows this one imperfect thing about me. Not even the Professor knows that I've done every test I know to do, I've read books, I've spoken with other doctors. Something about me isn't right and I can't have children.
I was angry at first and terrified. What if Scott didn't want me anymore because of this? I couldn't in good conscience refuse to let him go if I couldn't be everything he needed me to be. He just hugged me, though, and kissed my tears away when I told him. When he made love to me, I could tell that it really didn't matter--he still loved me.
I'm terrified again, but definitely not angry. Once again, I did every goddamn test I could think of and they were all with the same result. I am pregnant. Now I'm wondering if maybe Scott was serious about not wanting children. Maybe he is too used to the idea of just the two of us to make room for another.
He grins at me with his pretty white teeth and follows me towards our bed. I stop and hug him tightly. He hugs me back and we breath each other in. I whisper everything to him. He doesn't let go of me as he smiles and says I knew something was up. Your smile was hiding it. Everything will be okay.
One of life's bigger quirks: the unexpected pregnancy. I don't mind, though. Like I said, I feel human.
5. Somebody loves me.
I almost wet my pants when Logan literally growled at Scott and said Stay away from my girl. He actually called him Scooter. I was so mad for the smallest moment and then, when he let me drag him out into the hallway, I couldn't be mad anymore. I threw him up against the wall nice and hard just so he would know he couldn't get away with all that animalistic territorial shit, but then he said he thought of me as his girl.
I am somebody's girl. That is something I never thought I would be. All those nights crying to myself because I had chosen to ignore the possibility of love because it was so small. Then Logan came home and proved me wrong. He made possibility into probability. Then he made it fact.
That first night, he came to my room because he heard me wake up from a nightmare. He said he would always be there. He said he came back just because of me, that he couldn't stand to see my face fade from his mind. He's lived in my head for years so I know him. This whole thing isn't something fleeting, like his crush on Jean.
He loves me. I love him. It's actually quite simple: I am Logan's girl.
6. Two pretty ladies.
Marie is a pretty girl to be sure. She's taken, though, and to try and get her would be suicide, I know. I've also found that the pain of rejection is beginning to lessen. There are two pretty ladies I've got my eye on now and they're a package, each going with the other.
Storm is such a goddess. She's beautiful, quiet, and mysterious and I'd like to call her my goddess, but I'd never dream of trying to label her. But the lady seems to like me. I know she's had a hard time with love, but I want to make it better for her. I thought it would hurt being patient, but it actually makes me feel good. Like I'm putting my time into something that will be well worth the effort.
Because people can't ignore change, they decide that they should comment on it, instead. Jean tells me I look happy. I ask her what I looked like before and she says Perpetually disappointed. Somehow, I think she understands the disappointment thing more than she lets on, but I've got to say she looks like things have been going her way lately. Marie says she's glad I'm doing all right. Scott and the Professor have both offered encouraging bits of advice like She's allergic to flowers and Amy likes horses. The Wolverine doesn't so much comment as walk past me in the hallway without giving me his trademark glare o' death.
Then there's pretty lady number two: Amy. She seemed like she was against me for a while. I couldn't get too close to her mother without her around. Normally, a little kid wouldn't be so much trouble but this kid is smart. She's part of the package and I find myself thinking that it's cool. I like how she takes care of herself and how she does her best to take care of everyone else, too. Her mom was sick one weekend and I took her horseback riding. She wouldn't speak to me the whole way to the barn but she loosened up a little after a while. I let her pick a horse and showed her how to put the saddle and the bridle on. I think she expected me to try and talk her into letting me and her mom have some time alone and when I let her talk first, we sort of started to understand each other. She decided that I'm okay and I understand that if I make her mother cry any tears besides tears of happiness, I'm going to have my ass kicked by a seven-year-old.
So instead of one pretty lady, I get two. The idea is beginning to grow on me. You have to understand that I'm serious about them both. I want to make them smile.
*End.*
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