Notes: This is in no way related to any of my other stories.
Thanks: To Kat for suggesting the title!
Out of all of my aunts Ororo was my favorite.
If I’m not mistaken she was all of our favorite. Don’t get me wrong we loved our other aunts and uncles just fine, but no one got offended when one of said ‘she was the best’ and we meant over each others’ parents.
I remember how when she spoke to us she would make perfect blue-eye contact that suggested that everything she said was something between the two of us.
She never had to tell us to do anything twice, we were eager to please her, and on those rare occasions when we had gotten into trouble it felt like we had let her down.
Once when I was in the third grade, I purposely left my lunch on the kitchen counter hoping Aunt Ro would be the one to bring it to me in school.
Unfortunately, I forgot the second I walked into the classroom and saw the substitute.
I was a bossy trouble making know-it-all and above all things a tomboy, but the old lady had been more than I bargained for.
I pulled all the classics, organizing the class to do things like dropping books at a certain time, and peeping. At one point the class was playing a game of catch whenever she turned her back to us.
I threw the ball from my seat in the back -a high fast one- to the front of the room. From the moment I realized my classmate in the front was going to miss everything was in slow motion.
The ball bounced inches away from the sub’s arm, off of the blackboard, and rolled to the back of the room. The woman turned around, livid. Too slowly, I pulled my arm back down to my side, and sat down.
She rushed to the back of the room, and snatched me up from my chair by my arm, “YOU BRAZEN HUSSY!”
She dragged me to the front of the room, my little legs struggling to stand up, shaking me by that arm and yelling other things I didn’t quite understand, her face millimeters from my own, blowing nasty teacher breath in my nose and mouth.
I never heard the door open. Only when I heard her voice did I realize my beloved aunt was there. I thought she had come to save my life, like I always knew she would. “Take your hands off of that child this instant!” The old woman and I looked up at her. I imagine I was a sight with my limp legs, arm twisted painfully over my head, and pitiful expression.
The sub did just that dropping me to the floor, “Who are you?” She asked.
“I am this child’s aunt, and you?”
“I am the substitute teacher.”
“Why were your hands on her, and why were you yelling so angrily at her in front of these children?”
The sub explained, and I tried to blink back the tears that were coming to my eyes, knowing I was wrong.
“May I speak with you outside of the room?”
The sub nodded and Aunt Ro followed her out.
The class began to chatter when they were gone.
I was bombarded with questions. Mostly about Ororo.
No more than a minute passed before the door opened and let the two women in.
“Get your things, child. We are leaving.”
I did just that, and after some paper work in the office I was released from school.
On the way home I got a stern talking to that was almost as a bad as a spanking from my daddy.
Later when I asked why she took me out of school, she told me that the teacher was not sorry for what she did, and kept insisting that I was a bad seed that would never amount to anything, and that in her day if she did something like that, she would not only be whipped by her teacher, but by her mom, dad, etc.
Aunt Ro, said she didn’t doubt it, but things didn’t work like that anymore, the physical punishment was left up to the parents.
I’m not sure if she ever told my mom and dad.
When my cousins would visit which was quite often, we’d run up to her room and listen to her tell us about her adventures when she was our age. She was a street smart theif in Cairo. It was like something out of a book, “Ororo and The Urchins”, maybe.
In the mornings we would try to wake up before her. Sometimes she let us believe we did, but I suspect she did her morning skywalk and laid back down in her bed so we wouldn’t be dissapointed when we threw her door open at 6:30 (we could never get up any earlier).
We would sit on her bed, explore her room, and other things while telling her our stories, and perform for her, each trying to out due the others.
Going grocery shopping with her was exciting, and we always went when it was her turn.
We’d run to be the first one to get the cart then pile into it; the smallest in the baby seat up front, two in the large part and anyone else holding onto the sides.
We would scream, “Do it, do it!”
After much begging she would drive the cart like a bat out of hell, spinning it, and popping wheelies.
We would also pick out candy bars, and eat them in the store, and when we were done shopping she’d toss the wrappers up there with the rest of the items, and she’d pay for those too. We never got a problem out of the cashiers for doing that.
For my ninth birthday there was a big celebration. I had been adopted five years earlier by the Summers’.
Everyone was there, and I mean everyone, from Stevie Hunter to Amelia Voight to Longshot, and Dazzler. It was more like an X-family reunion.
As you can imagine I got lots of presents.
The mansion was in a state of chaos for days afterward.
The party was when everyone first met Ali, Aunt Ro’s boyfriend. He was the most handsome man, next to my Daddy and Uncle Remy of course.
They flirted endlessly, he played with her hair, and she always had at least a small smile on her face when he was around.
I recall them sitting by the tree on the big hill that night, her head on his shoulder. We watched intently, waiting for the inevitible moment when they would kiss, so we could scream, “EEEW!” and fall to the ground giggling.
They were the talk of the adults. No one had known that Ororo had met someone.
She spent less time around the mansion, and with us. When she did spend time with us, Ali was usually with her, not that we minded.
A little over six months later, in February, they announced that they were getting married, and by April they were wed.
The ceremony was small- compared to my birthday party.
Her dress was long sleeved, with no lace. It was smooth, and billowed around her feet. It was the same color as her hair.
I couldn’t see any sign of nervousness in either of them, in fact they looked almost cocky, like they had done this a million times and were daring something to go wrong.
Nothing went askew.
When they kissed, the room exploded in cheering akin to a football game.
They left for a two week honeymoon that night.
They didn’t move in together until over a month later.
That first Saturday morning that she was back my cousins and I were surprised to find her loft door locked, and no lockpicking trick she had taught us would open it.
I found out the baby when I overheard a conversation between my mom, Aunt Ro.
“Oh my God, Ro, you’re going to be HUGE!” My mom squealed.
“I know!”
Those seven and a half months went by in a blur.
One quiet night everyone was settled in the den watching a movie, when the phone rang.
Uncle Logan answered it.
We half listened to his side of the conversation.
“Hel-”
“Now?”
“Where?”
He hung up the phone, “It’s Roro.”
We hurriedly got up and grabbed our coats, and piled into the van.
The cramped van was filled with excited tension.
Uncle Hank went straight into the delivery room. We stayed in the waiting room, when Ali came out and told us that he had rushed Aunt Ro to the hospital when the contractions started. The doctors had just kicked him out of the delivery room.
My mom went into the DR, and stayed for a long time. I sat in one of the chairs swinging my legs back and forth, staring intently at the swinging doors, and jumping whenever they opened. Ali paced in front of the doors, every once in a while looking through the little windows to see if he could get a peek.
A doctor came out and stopped him from pacing. The adults and I rushed him.
“There was a lot of blood loss from the mother, more than usual...” He said some things I didn’t understand, “...The baby is in excellent condition. I’m sorry.”
The doctor led Ali back into the delivery room, and soon my mom came out.
She was crying.
Uncle Logan picked me up and took me straight to Uncle Warren and Aunt Betsy’s.
My two cousins had lots of questions to ask me, and we tried not to think the worst.
I stayed the night there, but I couldn’t sleep.
I learned what happened the next morning from my mom.
Aunt Ro died from complications.
The new baby girl came home the day before the funeral.
Even at ten, I knew that Emma Frost gave a beautiful eulogy.
The whole damn situation was ironic.
An X-Man who’d survived everything from battles in space to gunshots, died giving birth.
A woman who had helped raise her families children, couldn’t raise her own.
A girl lost her mother, who had also lost her mother.
Fin
So? What do you think?