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That Seventies Swap	By : Ksennin Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Crossovers Views: 2020 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own neither American Hustle or X-Men, or any characters in the franchise. I make no money from publishing this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue
- 2-1979
- 3-1978
- 4-1978
- 5-1978
- 6-1978
- 7-1979
- 8-1979
- 9-1979
- 3
- 4
- 5
I suppose I always saw Rosalyn Rosenfeld as something of a cancer. No, that’s too mean. I meant it in the sense that a tumor can be benign, and that you don’t judge people for having them. I never saw Irving as cheating on me with Rosalyn, or what he and I had as him cheating on her. Duplicitous, I suppose. But I simply considered Irving as having this sort of medical condition—or mental illness—of a wife and adopted son, and the same way you’d support someone with a fear of heights, I put up with him having—a wife and adopted son.
Strangely enough, I never really hated Rosalyn either. It was more that I assumed all the irritation Irving felt toward her and couldn’t get out. It wasn’t like one of those noir films where a woman wants to bump off her husband or something so she can be with her lover. I just wanted a decent excuse to slap her. Just once.
When she came home from work, Sydney felt like a different person. At the art gallery, she knew she belonged, knew she was legitimate, but there was a voice in her head with an English accent. It told her she didn’t. It told her she was a fraud. Dirt-poor girl from Minnesota. She came home to a beautiful house and a loving husband and a good kid, she knew the voice was full of shit.
Except that day. That day, Rosalyn Rosenfeld was in her house, hanging up crystals like the place needed wind chimes inside. “These,” she was telling Danny, “are quartz crystals, very powerful. Everyone used to use them, the Chinese, the Indians, the Hawaiians, until the white man came and told everyone that needles worked better. Who likes needles? Except in acupuncture. Anyway, once we have them all around the house, they’re gonna create an energy grid of healing power—“
“I can explain,” Irving said behind her.
Sydney turned and took a deep breath. “I’m not angry.”
“No, you’re a rational, calm, beautiful woman who knows there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.”
She nodded. “Yes. A patient woman. See how patient I’m being? Waiting for that very reasonable explanation?”
“I think Pete kicked her out and—she needs to stay with us a couple days.”
“A couple days.”
“Maybe a few weeks.”
“Few weeks?”
“Definitely not a month. Not a month.”
Sydney refused to turn around as the tinkling of a crystal sounded behind her, like an echo. “Could I talk to you outside, please? I don’t think I can spend another five seconds in this house without ripping down all the crystal shit your ex-wife is putting up.”
They stepped out onto the backyard porch. Very calmly, Sydney took the paperback she was reading out of her purse. Looking for Mr. Goodbar by Judith Rossner. She slapped Irving with it, hitting the stiff spine against his shoulder. He yowled low-key, shielding his face, but gritting his teeth more than defending himself. She stopped after a few seconds.
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Why is that woman in our house?” Sydney demanded, her voice becoming more strident but not necessarily louder.
“Because her relationship ended and she’s got nowhere else to go—“
“Big surprise! It’s Rosalyn. She’d marry Charlie Manson if he was single!”
“I don’t think he is married, actually.”
Sydney hefted the paperback threateningly.
“Okay! Okay.” Irving straightened his lapels. “If you knew this was coming—“
“Ha! You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “If you knew, what was your plan going to be?”
“Put her ass in a motel!”
“A motel.” He nodded along with her insistent look. “A fucking motel, the mother of my child—“
“Jesus Christ…”
“I’m just—hey—“ Irving slammed his hands into his pockets. “I’m thinking about Danny here. I want all his parents to get along and like each other because that’s what normal, well-adjusted kids have with their parents. Okay? Not some shit about his mom getting thrown out on the street and coming to his father and getting just some fucking change for a motel. That’s not something healthy people have in the back of their brain. That’s some shit from the funny pages, that’s what makes you grow up to fight Spider-Man.”
“Spider-Man,” she repeated caustically. “Irving, what the fuck would you know about healthy people?”
He looked inside. Rosalyn was holding Danny up so he could hang a crystal over the window. The kid looked so happy.
Her hands were suddenly on his face like ice, that’s how cold they were. They forced his eyes into hers. “You know I’ve always been proud of you? Throughout this whole crazy thing, there was only one time it was hard. I could be pissed at you, I could be worried for you, but there was only one time I almost wasn’t proud. That first time you told me how you conned people. And it wasn’t you—“ Her voice wasn’t solid. It was creaking like thin ice. “It wasn’t you I was ashamed of, it was us. I was thinking ‘am I really the person who can be in love with this guy?’ But even then we were so much alike. It was like I could hear your voice in my head. We all con each other, right? You’re just better at it. We’re just better at it. But for a moment there, I was ashamed to be in love with you. Just that once.” She looked down at her hand like she’d forgotten she was holding a book in it. She put it back in her purse. She was still wearing her purse, she was still wearing her coat. It made things easier. “Two times now.”
And she walked out. Irving took one of his heart pills.
- 3
- 4
- 5
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That Seventies Swap