Summer's End

[Aimee Connors]

"Um," she said, around a mouthful of cashew chicken, then gave it another chew and a hard swallow. "We lived at the same house in Los Santos. Redenćion House - it's a, ah, non-profit shelter for ...kids like us," she ended lamely, quickly stuffing more food in her mouth so Jim could field whatever follow up question Joe might have.

[Joe Lewinski]

"For mutants," he said, reading between the lines.

Beside him, Francine almost choked on a wonton, and quickly washed it down with wine. Jim popped up like a rabbit from a hat and stared, his face full of alarm, and his mouth full of rice. There was one thing about his son with which Joe could say with absolutely certainty: he'd make a terrible poker player. For a moment he held his gaze, and then dropped the facade with a wink.

"I'm glad. I betcha met some interesting characters there, eh, kiddo?"

[Francine Lewinski]

"Jimmy," Francine gave her son a look full of deepest concern, "When are you gonna cut your hair?"

All pretense of trying to eat had been abandoned. Francine sensed her own appetite waning; the conversation was taking an unpleasant turn and it was time for an intervention. Her hands were clapped together, and she peered over them at Jim, as if in prayer for the future of his follicles.

"You look like you could give..."

"Aimee."

"Yeah, you look like you could give Aimee a run for her money. And take your hat off at the dinner table," she chuckled in amusement, and addressed Aimee, "You'd think we were primitives!"

[Jim Lewinski]

"There ain't nothin' wrong with my hair, ma!"

Jim pulled his beanie off and his ears sprang back into place. Across from him, his dad tried to disguise his amusement behind an oversized prawn cracker. The revelation of his long unkempt locks had his mom sadly shaking her head. In a last ditch attempt to salvage some pride, he turned to Aimee for support.

"Tell them, Aimee, it's all the rage in LA, right?"

[Aimee Connors]

Aimee stared at Francine, deciding she really didn't like the woman, no offense Jim. She looked at Jim, and sighed. "I'm afraid our efforts to take that bird's nest have been for naught, Mrs. Lewinski."

She deftly scooped up another generous mouthful of noodles with her chopsticks, and then thought better of it, letting half of the portion drop back into her bowl. Aimee stirred it all around for a moment before trying again with a smaller amount. She waggled her eyebrows at Jim as she chewed.

[Jim Lewinski]

Jim weathered another salvo of criticism from his mom, her words were lost on him, however, for he was too busy gaping at Aimee. The treacherous overgrown eggplant. How pleased with herself she looked. His eyes narrowed just enough to let her know that this, what she'd begun, was far from over. His mom was eating again which meant her crusade against his do had been abandoned, temporarily at least. So he took advantage of the reprieve with a deliberate attempt to change the subject.

"So, dad, how's business?"

[Joe Lewinski]

Surfacing from his second helping of chilli beef, Joe took a moment to chew, and consider the question. In the past, the only time Jim asked him about business was when it went hand-in-hand with a request for something like a new microscope or cutting torch. This time, he suspected his son's interest had little to do with his curiosity about the shipping industry and a lot to do with wishing to evade another one of his mother's onslaughts. For the sake of appearances, he humoured him.

"Business is good. Last quarter, the fleet gained another six ships. And we've closed a few exciting new contracts this year. Got a big one coming up, too."

Then, he couldn't help himself, "You thinkin' of joinin' the family business?"

[Jim Lewinski]

"No!" Jim squeaked, his dad arched an eyebrow and went back to his chilli beef, "Hell, no."

Once the thought of staring at pie charts, in a boardroom, in a suit, and all the residual horror that accompanied such imagery, had subsided, he elaborated to Aimee:

"Dad runs a shippin' company that operates out of Newark and Brooklyn. Founded by my great grandfather just after the war. It's kind of a big deal, but it just ain't for me."

He fell quiet then, and skewered a prawn with his chopstick.

[Francine Lewinski]

"Jimmy's gonna be an astronaut one day."

While Francine had leaned forward and raised a hand to obscure her lips from the boys, her attempt at a hushed tone would've informed the neighbours. And that was the point, really. She swept up her wine glass, bracelets jangling like sleigh bells, and used it to gesture at the purple girl.

"Whatchoo wanna do with your life, sweetie?"

[Aimee Connors]

Aimee twirled a (clean) chopstick around her fingers without thinking about it, the extra grip of her skin making it easy. "Me? Oh, uh, graduate from high school, hopefully, I guess. I haven't... that is..." She looked at Jim, but he seemed determined to make her pay for the crack at his hair, and was just nodding encouragingly at her. She plunged on, recklessly.

"I haven't really been able to work much - I had a job over the summer but it ended badly. Um, because I'm, like, purple, I'm sure you noticed, so while it wasn't legally discrimination it was pretty obvious my boss had a fucking problem, uh, a problem, sorry," she struggled on, "with mutants."

Aimee bit her lip, and shrugged again. "So, I'm officially exploring my options? I think Jim could be an astronaut for sure though, he's the smartest guy I've ever met."

[Jim Lewinski]

"Alright, Connors, you're off the hook," Jim muttered, with a ghost of a grin.

Thereafter, he couldn't help but smile. And despite his best efforts, he could feel his face morph into what felt like the most disgustingly self-satisfied expression possible. When his dad caught his eye, Jim's eyebrows gave a victorious leap, that said in no uncertain terms: "I told you so!"

Once the effects of the compliment wore off, he couldn't help but notice the shadow of Aimee's previous statement hanging over his parents like a guilty shroud. Especially his mother, who practically recoiled when she dared draw attention to the fact that her skin was purple. His dad, who was good with people, was also lost for words. Even Jim wasn't entirely sure how to address the matter without sounding insincere; he was doing his best of late to keep his genetic eccentricities in check, and with some success, whereas Aimee had no such option.

"Aimee, this ain't Los Angeles, where everyone is obsessed with appearances. New Yorkers, they're like salt of the earth, y'know? I bet there's a whole bunch of people out there who don't give a damn whatcha look like, as long as you ain't afraid to work hard."

[Joe Lewinski]

"I can vouch for that. There's a dozen of 'em on my payroll."

Joe gave Aimee a nod, full of confidence. It was no mystery what had recently transpired in California: the registration act, the rioting, and the consequent extreme measures taken by the authorities. The images appeared on every news channel daily for the last week, and if the reports were to be believed, the scandal was only in its infancy. Mutant rights was once again the hot topic, and there was anger on either side of the fence, coming from people who cared more about being heard than the well-being of those caught in the crossfire. Kids like Aimee, and Jim, who by virtue of his gift was worth ten men in his estimation, no matter the job. He considered Aimee with curiosity.

"So... purple," he said, making circles in the air with his chopsticks as he chose his words, "Is that your thing? Your mutation?"

[Francine Lewinski]

"Joe, for god's sake! Enough with the m-word!"

Done with her meal, Francine cast aside her chopsticks with a clatter and snatched up a napkin. She could feel the colour flushing her cheeks like fire. If Vivian had stayed for dinner, she would've crawled into a hole and died of shame. There were a trio of faces staring stupidly, monstrously ignorant of their inappropriate behaviour. Rigid with irritation, she started to gesture wildly with her napkin at the savages at the table.

"This is not acceptable conversation for the dinner table! Can't you see the poor thing is embarrassed enough as it is!?"

[Aimee Connors]

Well, she hadn't been embarrassed before, but Aimee could feel the hot flush starting at Francine's words, her skin darkening on her cheeks. "It's okay, I don't mind," she said, wishing for the millionth time that her mutation was not physical. Being the purple elephant in the room was reminding her of why she lived on the street to begin with.

Aimee looked uncertainly at Joe, wondering if she should answer his question or not, and then decided an oblique answer might do. The chopstick in her hand remained stuck there as she opened her fingers, facing toward Jim's dad and away from his drunken mother.

[Jim Lewinski]

"Mutation is not a bad word, ma!"

Jim threw his hands up in exasperation, but his mother was undeterred. She spat words like bullets, squawking about manners and morality. More than once she brought Aimee into the debate, with whom she suddenly sympathised as a fellow woman with her own insecurities; Jim and Joe were then accused of being insensitive about her feelings. It was bigotry dressed up as female solidarity and it was more than Jim could stand. His hands met the table with a clatter of plates.

"Will you stop pretendin' it don't exist? Aimee's a mutant, ma. And so am I. Deal with it!"

[Joe Lewinski]

"Jim, watch your attitude."

Joe fixed his son with a raised finger and a look of steel. Whether he had a valid point or not was irrelevant, there was no way he was going to address his mother like that and get away with it. Certainly not in his presence, and he should've known better. Francine laughed off his claims and accused him of having picked up some LA sass, something which, incredibly, she found pleasing. And then she was on her feet to resume her sermon, holding aloft a wine glass and a soggy wonton like holy symbols. Things were taking a turn for the worse. Joe took a long breath and with a calm and objective tone of voice, he joined the fray.

"Francine, if Aimee is goin' to be stayin' with us a while, you will have to get used to this kind of talk. And that's all there is to it. Oh, excuse me."

His words were punctuated by a faint buzzing sound. He stood and pulled a phone from his trouser pocket, before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Yeah. When did this happen?"

[Francine Lewinski]

"Oh! That's great! Yeah, just leave while we're in the middle of a discussion, Joe!"

Francine barked after him, leaning forward on her hands like a hound preparing to pounce. And then, in the sudden crashing silence, all the fight was gone from her. The tension seeped out of her muscles, and she felt ready to wilt. Behind the curtain of curls, she gave a sniff, and the sniff gave way to a string of anaemic sobs. Then, just as suddenly, she became erect with defiance, and flicked her hair back with one final whimper.

"I can see now my opinion no longer has any value in this family."

She swept past the teens as Jim tried to protest, "Ma, don't be like-"

"No, it's alright. I'll get out of your way. Jimmy, clear up this mess, would you? There's a good boy."

And with one last theatrical sob, Francine departed.

[Aimee Connors]

Aimee had felt her eyes widening as the argument had progressed, until she was sure they might pop out of her head. As the adults left the room she looked toward Jim, her mouth opening but nothing coming out.

Wow. No wonder Jim had left. She gave him an uncertain smile, and started picking up food containers, stacking the emptier ones inside each other for throwing in the garbage.

[Jim Lewinski]

"And that is the official way to end a meal in the Lewinski household!"

The resignation in his voice was unmistakeable as Jim rose from his chair. Aimee was already clearing away the remnants of their epic feast; a trifling task for anyone who'd ever had to deal with the aftermath of dinner time at Redencion House. But she was a guest in his home, and he had the power to make dirty dishes vanish, and, in a flash, they were gone. He reappeared looking rather sheepish, and offered Aimee an apologetic smile.

"Look, I'm sorry you had to see that."

[Joe Lewinski]

"I'm sorry, too."

Joe returned from the kitchen with speed in his stride. He saw the empty table, which, coupled with his wife's conspicuous absence, meant only one thing: Francine had made a dramatic exit. How unsurprising. No doubt there had been tears with a generous helping of self-pity, followed by a side order of Bombay Sapphire. It was surely an interesting night to follow and in that moment he'd never been more grateful for the good work of Mrs. Smith, and her perfect timing. He spoke first to Aimee:

"I hope that little thing hasn't put you off staying with us. It's not always that interesting around here."

Then to Jim, he gave a look full of regret.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. Something has come up. We can catch up tomorrow, alright?"

He pulled Jim into another embrace, and said, "I'm glad you're home, son."

A moment later, he was gone.