Inspired by a witty tumblr post. Credit for inspiration goes to that person.
Mia, and my original interpretation of one of Marvel's Chessmen © Celeste Angela Pichowsky.
Fuera lo viejo, lo nuevo.
"So, I see Mia has a new boyfriend," mocked my father from the kitchen.
"Actually, Mia has a new girlfriend," my girlfriend called to him.
"The plot thickens…" my father poked his head into the living room, "Hello. Who the hell are you?"
"I'm Sera Brening," they shook hands. Pretty sure I'm about to collapse.
"Well, what a pretty name."
Sera disagreed, "Oh, it's plain."
"'Kay, then, how long have you been dating?"
"Four weeks."
"Huh. I was wondering why she seemed excessively happy recently," my dad feigned thoughtfulness, "it was quite annoying!"
"I know, right?" Sera scoffed.
"I can see that she is fairly fine with you, me alegro por los dos de usted, therefore–" he got the strangest look on his face, "–I need to go think on this for a moment." He dashed back to his hideout of the master bedroom (there, in the darkness, did he sit, until at some point he blinked and slapped his forehead: "Adoption between same-sex couples is legal, what the hell am I worried about. Plus, I have two other kids. My spoiled grandchildren are safely secured. Me gustaría que mi hijo sería estúpido empezar a buscar una esposa." Then, he looked at the bound figure still writhing on the floor. "Did you hear that? My youngest daughter is a lesbian! What a discovery, yeah?" He opened a dresser drawer, and a second later held a loaded gun. "You ought to have been more careful 'bout whose house it was you were robbing, holmes." It was silent; Mia and Sera never heard).
I cried into Sera's shoulder. I was so relieved. She held me. Everything was great.
Afterward, I steeled myself, because I knew my mother would not be as easy to come out to. I pressed speed-dial. She didn't answer. I left a lengthy message. Sera never left my side the entire time, even saying, "Hello," faintly, although it wasn't needed. I realized she was nervous. God, I'm so selfish...
"...I'll explain the rest to you later, okay, Mom?"
My girlfriend needs me right now.
I'd never forget my friends. We'd all gone out for brunch to celebrate my coming out. My dad wasn't there, he'd understood, he knew how us silly kids were nowadays, not wanting our poor un-hip parents hanging around, anymore. Besides, he had some business to tend to in the backyard, anyways. He asked me where the shovel was, I told him. He likes to plant things. It's weird, I'm not even sure where he keeps the plants. Whatever.
Cole and Bettany. Cole was also gay, thin and fair-haired, with owlish eyes. He was always the one to count on, all empathy and soft voice and psychology major knowledge on how to help a person in need. Bettany was straighter than an arrow and that was probably why Cole asked to borrow her porn stash so often. Sera is the dignified one; she's the rock of the four of us, and I was the timid mouse, until one morning she told me I was cute. In fact, I was relating the tale of our first confession to one another when something happened.
Our entire outing was keelhauled to a stop when I listened to my voice messages on speakerphone, in front of all of my friends and Sera. My mother was screaming. She couldn't believe I would be stupid like this. She was under the impression she had taught me better.
Bettany was absolutely aghast. "God! What a bitch! I'm so sorry, Mia!" Cole relayed the most comforting coming out stories he knew, and some of them made us laugh, and I was grateful. I couldn't meet Sera's eye. She grabbed my chin gently, and kissed me. The diner was empty aside from us. No one commented.
Dad was appropriately mortified, and gushingly apologetic. "I can't believe it," his voice was quiet, "I knew she was–but I thought–" I grasped his hand as if for dear life. My parents were never married. I was illegitimate, something that had only ever mattered to my mother's side of the family. "I just…I can't begin. I'm going to call your sister and brother." They were older than me, in college, and they had a different mother. She died, years ago, from some obscure illness. The doctors almost theorized poisoning, there wasn't much else I knew than that.
"I'm going to be honest, sweetheart," said my dad, "I've never loved your mother. But, I've always known her, and–I guess I should've foreseen this."
(Later, while I was in bed, my father flipped through old photo albums contemplatively. It was true. He worked alongside my mother for a very long time, but, there was never any hint of romance, she was too cold-hearted for that. Not even one-nightstands, because my father didn't want to stain himself with una puta como ella. She hadn't been popular in ranks of their organization, not at all. They were paired together out of necessity.)
I snored, which Sera found adorable. She was at her house, though, a few several blocks off. The whole springbreak Tuesday had been exhausting. We'd parted with tearful goodnights.
(He'd then met his wife, whom he'd fathered one son and daughter with. She was poisoned by a rival organization. It was a newly innovated poison, not even the best medicine practitioners could decipher it in time.
He hadn't meant to sleep with my mother. She was there. In a way, he wasn't. She dumped him quickly, morning after, and, once he'd remembered no condoms had been used…he went berserk searching for her. And, he found her.)
I woke.
(To her immense chagrin.)
I started choking.
(The disbelief was bullshit. He knew exactly what kind of woman my mother was. He'd expected her intolerance. He'd been wanting a reason to kill her–and, well, he'd always had perfectly good reasons, it was just that now he had the incentive–what? What was that noise? Mia?)
There was something wrong with me.
My mother was Indian, and her name was Indries Moomji. One of my earliest memories is her raging at my father for telling me her real name. One of my earliest memories is my father asking Indries what the hell she thought she was doing, dating Tony Stark. She answered that she was only acting on Stane's orders. My father had no power over her; she was only there for the child. For me.
"Am I making myself clear, Tatuaje?"
She was very clear.
So my father…did something. I couldn't remember.
(He jumped out a twenty-story window with me in his arms.
Daredevil caught us.)
There were no mutants in my family that I knew of. The nurses were prepared to drop me like a rock if that was the case. I'm glowing, I thought. I'm freaking glowing. The world was full of absolutely weird shit, who knew what was happening to me? Superheroes, extraterrestrials, gods and goddesses–it wasn't as simple as mutations, anymore. My father's chest and arms were a consoling place to be. My older half-siblings went out of their minds with worry, but it was nothing compared to the bags under my father's eyes, and the set in his shoulders.
Months after the fact, I was still on bed-rest. What else could they prescribe me? Dad kept disappearing and reappearing off and on. I didn't understand. Sera visited, never failed to. Indries kicked her out, once. I punched her. Her skin sizzled from my touch and she shrieked like nothing I had ever heard before. "You stupid, ugly, faggot little girl!" Her exotic Indian accent twisted into ugliness. I felt proud I that I knew more of my dad's Spanish than her Indian.
My nurses dragged her away, but not before hissing in sympathy, for whom, me, or Indries, I'll never be sure (I don't care), and glancing at me warily. Mutant prejudice was an issue where I lived. The big-time foreign doctors who were requested to come have a look at me were kinder, and more open-minded. I wasn't taken to some larger hospital because they were afraid to move me.
My mother never really cared for me. I knew that now.
I met IronMan. He was awesome. And sad. He told me a story.
Indries Moomji was Obadiah Stane's Chessqueen. She worked for the Iron Monger many years ago, around when I was born. Obadiah wanted Stark's fortune, that was obvious, everybody knew that these days. So, he hired Indries to seduce Tony and set him on the track for his most terrible drinking binge ever covered by the media. Stane almost–almost, you can imagine how pissed off he was when it didn't work–got what he wanted. Of course, he tried again, a few years later, and everyone knows how that story goes...
Tatuaje, my father, was also one of Stane's Chessmen. He tried to defect, so he could take care of me. Stane forced him to come back, by holding me hostage. I remember now. Dad always said he just dropped me off at daycare and left me there for a really long time by accident. I knew the truth, after so many years. He killed a lot of Stark's employees, which made me flinch, but Tony didn't say any more about it.
The Sisterhood of Ishtar, a criminal organization made up of psycho, psycho women, were the people who raised Indries. They performed a thousand plastic surgeries and enhancements upon her, they wanted her to be the pinnacle of guile and deception. They short her up with a hundred serums, too. They wanted her to breed. They wanted her to have children, so they could use that child for their own agenda. That was where my power sprung from. "Don't worry," said Tony, gesturing to Captain America standing in the doorway.
Steve Rogers came forward and knelt before me, "We've got your cure."
That was why my mother was so angry. By liking girls more than boys, I was ruining her entire life's purpose.
Yeah, well, fuck her.
Tony hugged me, and I hugged him back, especially after he finally told me my father was dead and that he'd gone down saving the world, from something or another, everyone and their cousin's rescuing the planet these days. I didn't care what happened. I didn't have my dad.
"He was a hero," the Captain went on, "In the end."
He brought Indries to hell with him.
That made me feel better.
We've graduated from highschool. We're going to college, Sera and I. Cole and Bettany, our best friends, were moving across the country, Cole to Maine, Bettany to New York, because they were accepted into different universities than we were. My girlfriend and I were lucky to love the same subjects; we were both majoring in Mutant Relations. My older brother and his long-time girlfriend announced they were engaged. That gave us ideas. In the midst of human-Asgardian betrothals, and mixed-mutant families, same-sex marriage was made legal. That didn't make it any more liked, but...
Sera said she didn't mind adoption.
I said, I don't, either.