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When I was six, my parents told me I was going to have a baby brother or sister. I asked them where it was. Then mom explained to me that in order for the baby to grow, they planted seeds in her belly and when the seeds blossom, it becomes a baby. So I left the dining table, emptied the pot in front of the window, and handed it to her. You can get it out now, I thought at them.
They laughed for a minute before my dad told me that the baby is already settled there.
Well, it can’t be in there forever... I projected.
My mom shook her head and told me no.
A baby needs time to grow up, Megan. You can meet once it’s ready to get out.
And when? I projected again.
Around June. Dad answered.
That was almost a year! That seemed like a long time back then. Why was the baby taking forever? I wanted to meet it straight away. I was never one of those jealous older siblings. On the contrary, I was impatient to meet it.
But nature had its rules, and I bowed down to them.
My parents were quite happy, obviously. The mutant population was at its lowest point in history, it meant one more mutant. But that aside, I could tell they were thrilled at the simple thought of our expanding family. There was a list of names hung on the fridge, my mother was already off the field missions. We constantly talked about all the stuff I wanted to teach the baby once it was out while my mom did my hair in the mornings and my dad shaved in their master bathroom.
One day at the dining table, my dad had some news to share.
“Meg, do you remember the day we told you about the baby?”
“Yes,” I replied carelessly.
“You remember us telling you about a baby brother or sister, right?”
“Mhm…” I was a kid. Things got boring pretty fast back then.
“What if it was both?”
That certainly explained the two cribs in the nursery, and why Mom kept going on about how unclassy she looked. It was indeed sad that they didn’t make Haute Couture maternity wear for Emma Frost-Summers.
I still don’t know how that year passed, but it did.
In between my mother’s morning sickness, my dad's briefings, the homework I did while they painted the new nursery, dad's field missions, the late night brownies we made with dad when mom craved them, the re-baby proofing, the sonograms on the fridge, and my mom's huge belly... Before I knew it, we were in the waiting room.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the wait that day. I was with my uncle Alex. Dad was with Mom.
“Did you wait for me this long too?” I asked him, my feet dangling from the chair in the waiting room of the Sick Bay.
He answered with a bit of a delay. “Nope.”
“But Dad told me babies took time.”
“Not you.”
I asked Mom years later. It’s true, she told me while doing her makeup. I don’t think I’ve even had proper pain. It was a very easy birth. You just came out. Like you were in a hurry. Your dad cut the cord and handed you to me. You didn’t even cry, it was like you didn’t have time for the ordeal and just wanted to get it over with.
Uncle Alex took me home that day. We ordered pizza, played Candy Land, and watched Mrs. Doubtfire until I passed out. The next morning, we headed back to the Sick Bay to meet them. Mom was sleeping, she looked extremely tired. Dad smiled at me warmly and picked me up in his arms. He looked tired too, he was here all night after all.
“Hi, baby,” Dad said while pressing his lips on my cheek.
“Is mom okay?” I asked, my voice muffled because I was pressed on his sweater.
“Don’t worry. She’s perfect. A little tired, but she’s perfect.”
I was only six, but I knew he meant every word of that. Dad always talked to Mom with love in his voice, even when they were mad at each other. I’m sure that he looked at her with love too, even though I could never tell. I’m not diamond, like Mom. I never directly looked into my father's eyes.
“Do you want to meet them?”
He held me in his arms and walked across the room, to the yellow bassinets.
“They’re tiny.”
“So were you.”
“Huh,”
“That’s Christian.” My dad pointed at the bassinet on the left with his free hand.
"Like Uncle Christian?"
"Yeah."
“Hi, Christian,” I said. “You're red.”
“Already bullying them, Meg? I know you're a big sister now, but you could have waited until tomorrow,” Dad teased, with a smirk on his lips.
“But they are red. And puffy. Why is that?”
“That's how babies look for a while after they're born. They won't always be red.”
“Hm,” I said, unconvinced. “And what’s her name?”
“Ruby,” He announced. “What’s with the smile? You like them?”
“Yes,” I answered, truthfully. God, I was six, and head over heels in love with my new siblings. “But…”
“What?”
“Ruby Summers.” I couldn’t help but let out a giggle. What a name. I was a little jealous.
“You don’t like her name?”
“Isn’t that like, a movie star name?”
“Ruby Summers,” My dad repeated after me, thoughtfully. He chuckled. “I guess we’ll see.”