(2 June 2003)
Part 2: Earthbound Misfit
"Three scoops of super-double-chocolate-fudge-chunk in a chocolate waffle cone with hot fudge sauce. Ooo, and chocolate sprinkles."
Rogue chuckled at the incredulous look the woman behind the counter shot at Kitty before grabbing an ice cream scoop and preparing to assemble the monster. "Ah detect a theme."
Kitty was unapologetic. "Chocolate is food of the gods," she declared. "I know, I asked Thor once."
"Point," Rogue conceded. "Make that two."
You'd think I'd stop being surprised at what people can put away, the waitress thought to herself. Alice Mathers had been working at the malt shop for the past ten years. Exactly twelve years and four months, in fact, but she'd technically stopped counting after ten. In that time, she'd come to consider herself something of an armchair psychologist. In ten (twelve, but who was counting?) years of watching romance develop over shared malts and broken hearts drowned in banana splits, Alice had developed a keen, observing eye and a theory: Nothing convinced people to become relentless eating machines like emotion. An ice cream sundae of this magnitude could only mean one thing. There was a lot of hurting going on here.
That's where Alice became confused. The two women standing at her counter were laughing and joking easily with each other.
She thought at first that one of them had broken up with her boyfriend. That was usually the case when two girls came through that door intent on consuming as much ice cream as humanly possible. Maybe the one with that striking shock of white hair? Alice couldn't remember when she'd seen a pair of eyes more lonely. But she somehow didn't think this was the case. Typically when people found themselves alone after a relationship ends, they looked lost, uncomfortable without someone by their side, holding their hand. This young woman seemed completely at ease on her own, actually appearing to prefer it when no one was standing near her. So it's not a nasty break-up.
Alice stirred the hot fudge and spooned out a generous helping. Maybe the other girl was the key? Alice stole a look at the girls over her shoulder. The short brunette was playfully punching her friend in the arm, declaring that she could take on the Juggernaut when the older girl pretended to stagger from the blow. There was definitely something there -- was that a flicker of sadness peaking out from the smiles? Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the look was gone. This girl was like a ghost, Alice just couldn't seem to get a fix on her. She replaced the cover on the hot fudge container and finished making the sundaes. Whatever was going on, it was beyond Alice to figure out. Or maybe she was simply reading more into the situation than was really there? She gave the girls their change and watched them go take their cones to the tables outside. Maybe they were just two people who really, really liked chocolate. Though you'd never know it to look at them. Alice couldn't remember when she saw two people in better physical condition, there wasn't an ounce of fat on either of them. Some girls have all the luck.
"Mmmmm," Rogue murmured appreciatively. "This is why we were born wi' taste buds."
Kitty examined a spoonful of gooey chocolate critically. "I dunno, it could use more hot fudge." She narrowly avoided the wadded up napkin Rogue threw at her head. "Well, it could."
"Girl, y'all're hopeless."
The loud cry of a bird flying overhead drew their attention to the bright blue sky. It was a perfect day, sunny and clear without a cloud for miles. Rogue sighed quietly despite herself, but Kitty was watching her friend intently. Her face became sad again, but for Rogue this time and not herself. Kitty placed her bare hand over Rogue's gloved one and squeezed gently, drawing the older girl's attention. She hated, but wasn't surprised, to see Rogue's eyes were shining with unshed tears.
Rogue chuckled humorlessly and withdrew from the touch, lounging against the back of her chair. She quickly passed a hand over her eyes, wiping them dry. "What a pair we make, huh?"
Kitty nodded, pushing her half-melted ice cream around with the spoon. "Yeah, you could say that." She looked over at Rogue, who was wistfully watching the birds soar effortlessly through the sky on thermals. "You still miss it," she said, more a statement than a question.
"Only ev'ry day," replied Rogue, reluctantly turning away from the birds. "It's funny, y'know? F'r years ah felt guilty about mah powers. Carol's powers. But ah just couldn't help myself. There's nothin' in the world like knowin' you c'n fly fast enough t' break the sound barrier " She laughed. "Knowin' you c'n go toe-to-toe wi' the Hulk ain't half bad neither."
"I can imagine," Kitty said. "The most gratuitously violent reaction I can get from my powers is phasing through a blender while making a smoothie."
Picking up a napkin from the table, Rogue began to shred it absently, dropping the pieces into the remains of her sundae. "When Carol an' ah were finally split, it was like ah'd gotten a second chance. Gettin' Carol's powers too was the icin' on the cake. Finally, ah was able t' enjoy somethin' 'bout this godforsaken mutant gene."
She dropped the final piece of the napkin and tilted her head back, resting it on the chair and again staring at the birds still circling overhead. "There's nothin' like it, Kitty. Nothin' in the world. Th' air is crisp an' cool, an' the view. Lordy, th' view. When ah'm up there, ah'm alone b'cause ah want t' be, not b'cause ah have t' be."
Kitty's heart ached for Rogue. There seemed to be so little in life that truly made Rogue happy. For all of her loss, at least Kitty had, for a while, known true happiness. That just makes the pain that much greater, snarled the ever-present voice in Kitty's head. Who actually has it worse here? Her for missing what she's never known, or you for missing what you had? Kitty pushed the voice to the back of her mind and again squeezed Rogue's gloved hand. How bitterly ironic that, of all the powers Rogue once had at her disposal, the only one she had now was the one she hated the most.
This time Rogue responded with a thankful smile. "An' here ah thought this'd bring the mood up, not down."
"Oh, I dunno. By comparison, I'm feeling much better now."
"Glad mah angst c'n serve a noble purpose."
"You know," said Kitty, throwing away the remains of her and Rogue's sundaes, "you may not be able to fly anymore, but I think I know just the thing to cheer you up." She snatched the keys from Rogue's hand and ran to the car, laughing as Rogue gave chase.
