email to Paige Guthrie

[x-rogue.livejournal.com]

To: [due south]
From: [sin]


Hey, Paige.

I don't know how to start this. I'll say "How are things?" and "How is Angelo?" and "How is Jono?"... is that a good start?

I really do care about those answers, but... God. This isn't a social letter. It's a whine. I don't know who else to talk to, Paige. I was reading my email reply from Angelo and... I don't know. You got him a puppy. A puppy. That's so cute. It made me think more than I wanted to while I was on the plane home... I think a lot these days, I have time.

I'm ten years younger, at least, than anyone I work with. Everyone knows everyone else. The place is fantastic, it's got resources out the yinyang, it's got miles of labs and other facilities, it's got drama going on that makes Xavier's look quiet. It's not stressful because I don't know anyone and none of it is about me. I go to work at the clinic with Michael, I train with the team I'm on (and I'm doing well, too), I come home and study, I babysit (more about that later), I go to sleep, I get up and do it again. It's a good life, Paige, it really is, I'm just lonely and God do I ever sound out of place around these people. My accent, that I worked so hard to get rid of? So NOT gone.

I see Logan maybe one night a week; when I'm lucky, two. That's on average. Sometimes he's home a couple days at a time, but I could be working those days. And he was home most of the last couple weeks but guess where I was? On assignment, damnit. I love him as much as I ever have, Paige. I miss him but I can't complain, he's really enjoying what he's doing. He's not quite the man he seemed to be at Xavier's, he's more the man I know him to be. He's not exactly social, but people up here know him and they talk to him and, heaven forbid, he talks back. He goes places, /we/ go places when we have time together. I love going out with him. It's good. It's just infrequent. Everything's infrequent, if you get what I mean. :p I shouldn't complain but... I am.

The bright spot, other than Logan being happy, is the baby I take care of some of the time. Her name is Nadia. Paige, she's the most beautiful baby /ever/, I swear. She's the daughter of friends of Mac and Heather's (Mac's the coordinator for Alphaflight). She's almost eight months old and she's so smart and she says "Mwee!" when she sees me. I've been taking care of her at times when her parents' shifts clash since the beginning of June. She's a mutant, and her parents were worried about letting just anyone watch her. She's... well, she's like John's power only with water instead of fire. It's just little things here and there except for the time she got colic and burst all the pipes on their floor of the apartment building -- that was how they found out. Giving her a bath is a riot, and really wet.

My favourite thing is when she's tired out and I get to cuddle her to sleep. When she's cranky, I can kind of fly and rock her at once and she loves it and stops crying and coos and burbles until she falls asleep in my arms. She likes me to sing to her, too. She's so soft and vulnerable and warm and sweet, I can't get enough of her. It's like I'm addicted. I take her for walks even when I'm not working, because I miss her if I don't see her. Her mom, Julie, doesn't mind and I get her all dressed up and put bobbles in her hair just like mine and we go out for hours. What's so cute is that people think she's my baby sometimes and I love that, when they tell me what a pretty girl she is and ask me questions about her.

Logan doesn't like her much. Babies are not his thing. He doesn't get it and he gets grumpy if I have to take time that's "his" to watch her. It bothers me more than it should, I think, that he's completely disinterested. But she /is/ the cutest baby in the world. I will send you photos to prove it. And she /is/ smart for her age and very coordinated and very social and I think he should be nicer about the fact that I love her. Maybe I do talk about her too much, but I can't help it. She is a genius supermodel baby and, damnit, I am good this baby thing and really I want one of my own /someday/ that I don't have to give back. And that does /not/ get discussed. Period. Ever. Even if it doesn't have to be now. Even if it's five years from now, or ten.

Maybe it'll wear off, right? I can't have kids anyway, with my mutation. No one's going to let me adopt a baby, either, for the same reason. I don't know why I even bother thinking about it. Maybe I'll get used to only seeing Logan once in a while and I'll make friends my age... or just get old enough that the age-gap doesn't matter. Maybe I have too much time on my hands. Second-thoughts suck, Paige. I have way too many of them.

...I think I'm done whining at you. I miss you. I really want to crawl back into my bed in the dorm room and be young again. I want to be goofy and have a pillow-fight. Goddamnit, I want Clarice to come glitter MY room. I want to go dancing, even though I was too busy being wornout from work and school before. I'm such a brat, Paige. I have a good life and I'm still not satisfied.

I hope life is being good to you and the boys.

Love lots,
Marie