Chapter Three
It was nearly 12 o'clock when Peter Parker arrived at his childhood home in Queens. Dressed in casual wear suitable for canning tomatoes, he walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Peter was waiting for a while for his aunt to answer the door, so he decided to take a look around his former home. The place appeared dead and desolate with weeds in the flower beds, burned-out spots in the lawn, dead leafs littering the driveway and untrimmed trees. He looked on the porch where he was standing and a candy wrapper was near his feet. He shook his head with penitence as he picked the piece of trash up and examined it with disgust. 'This is all my fault' he said to himself.
Abruptly, Aunt May answered the door. She smiled a great big smile as she saw Peter. "Peter! Oh, dear! I'm so happy to see you again!" Aunt May didn't look her best either. She looked very sickly with a ghostly- white appearance and the obvious indication that she had lost a lot of weight. To add to those hints of something being terribly wrong, her content demeanor seemed to be forced and awkward. As Peter entered into the house, Aunt Meg began to ask a ton of questions: "Are you hungry?" "Are you feeling okay?" "You look tired; do you want to lie down?"
May continued to ask Peter questions as she led him to the living room treating him like a ticking time bomb. Humoring Aunt May, he sat down on the old cloth couch. May came and sat down next to Peter.
"So, how's school? Have you been focused this term?"
Peter smiled and nodded, "Oh, yes. School's fine."
May smiled and him and patted his knee before she got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. "I'll get you something to eat before they come."
Peter nodded and looked around the house. Everything was exactly the same as it was before he left. Various pictures still adorned the small piano and mantle along with countless old hand-made birthday and Christmas cards, an old handmade dinosaur clay paperweight that Peter made when he was six and his certificate for his academic scholarship to NYU. May still had her handmade quilt draped other the same old recliner chair, in addition to her old television set that was still positioned in the same position toward that recliner that it had been in for at least thirty years. After a couple of minutes examining everything with obdurate cognizance, May came back into the "living-in museum" of a living room and gave him a plate with a turkey sandwich on it with a side of potato chips.
"Here you go, dear." She said in an impliable manner. She sat down again and looked at her nephew who was looking suspicious at her while he was eating.
"Waz wong?" he asked with his mouth full of sandwich in a callous sort of way.
May looked at him with surprise and laughed, "Oh my word Peter! Nothing's wrong! I'm just so glad to see you, that's all." Peter raised his eyebrows in agnosticism, "'Oh no," he muttered under his breath, "Here we go again."
"You know, you never visit me Peter," May stated, rearranging some magazine on the coffee table in nervousness, "But I understand, your studies go first."
Peter rolled his eyed and placed the plate on the table, "Oh, no Aunt May. Things have been really chaotic, especially last week when the toilet overflowed and Harry and I had to get an emergency plumber before the whole flat collapsed." Peter tried to smile a genuine smile as he looked at his aunt. "Look, I'll come more often for now on. School is less hectic and we fixed the toilet. So, I'll visit and do the lawn- and stuff."
May smiled and nodded, "Yes, that would be nice; the lawn needs something. It's hard to find someone to do it for minimum pay."
Peter frowned and got up from the couch swiftly which alerted May instantly. She looked at him with puzzlement. "Peter?" Aren't you going to finish your sandwich?"
Peter started to head to the stairs when he turned around. "When are they supposed to be here?" he said stoically.
May continued her puzzled look, "Uh, ten minutes." As Peter headed up the stairs, May called out to him.
"Peter?"
Peter turned around and smiled a fake smile, "Yes?"
"Why don't you wear something a little better for canning? I put some pants and a shirt on your bed. Wear those; the clothes you're wearing could get dirty."
"Yes, Aunt May."
As Peter reached his bedroom, he angrily threw his carry-on bag on his old worn-out bed. He saw that also his room hadn't changed either which disgusted him. He flopped on the bed with a heated look upon his face, 'I guess I can't do anything right' he told himself. It angered him that his aunt thought that he was abandoning this fragmented and torn-apart family. It also sickened him that the whole house had not changed in the two years that he has been gone. 'Will I ever be on my own?'
He looked on the other side of the bed and a pair of his worn-out jeans and an old, overlarge after school program t-shirt. He shook his head, 'I'm twenty and she's still bossing me around.' A few minutes later, he had on his jeans and large shirt on and he took a couple of minutes to sit on his bed and think.
He looked around in his room and he remembered the good, old days where he wasn't Spider-man or wasn't 'technically' a freak. A few tears rolled down his eyes as he looked across this room and saw the bedroom window of Mary Jane Watson next door. He will always remember watching her getting ready in the morning brushing her hair and putting on her 'mask'. He also will remember that day at Norman Osbourne's funeral the vow of revenge from Harry and the haunting kiss from MJ. More tears rolled down his cheeks, 'I will never have a normal life'.
All of a sudden, the doorbell rang and Peter looked out his window again looking through MJ's abandoned room and residence and callously wiped some stray tears running down his cheeks and lips. He walked out of his room and headed downstairs in order to start canning with everyone. As Peter continued to wipe his face with the back of his hand, he walked into the kitchen to meet Aunt May's friends.
"Peter!" Aunt May said as she hurriedly walked over to Peter who had just arrived. "Peter, this is Emily Watson and her fiancé Rick Thompson."
'Watson?' Peter asked himself. 'Watson as in-?' Just then he got his answer. A gal walked into the kitchen with a large box of Mason jars. The gal was Mary Jane Watson.
It was nearly 12 o'clock when Peter Parker arrived at his childhood home in Queens. Dressed in casual wear suitable for canning tomatoes, he walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Peter was waiting for a while for his aunt to answer the door, so he decided to take a look around his former home. The place appeared dead and desolate with weeds in the flower beds, burned-out spots in the lawn, dead leafs littering the driveway and untrimmed trees. He looked on the porch where he was standing and a candy wrapper was near his feet. He shook his head with penitence as he picked the piece of trash up and examined it with disgust. 'This is all my fault' he said to himself.
Abruptly, Aunt May answered the door. She smiled a great big smile as she saw Peter. "Peter! Oh, dear! I'm so happy to see you again!" Aunt May didn't look her best either. She looked very sickly with a ghostly- white appearance and the obvious indication that she had lost a lot of weight. To add to those hints of something being terribly wrong, her content demeanor seemed to be forced and awkward. As Peter entered into the house, Aunt Meg began to ask a ton of questions: "Are you hungry?" "Are you feeling okay?" "You look tired; do you want to lie down?"
May continued to ask Peter questions as she led him to the living room treating him like a ticking time bomb. Humoring Aunt May, he sat down on the old cloth couch. May came and sat down next to Peter.
"So, how's school? Have you been focused this term?"
Peter smiled and nodded, "Oh, yes. School's fine."
May smiled and him and patted his knee before she got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. "I'll get you something to eat before they come."
Peter nodded and looked around the house. Everything was exactly the same as it was before he left. Various pictures still adorned the small piano and mantle along with countless old hand-made birthday and Christmas cards, an old handmade dinosaur clay paperweight that Peter made when he was six and his certificate for his academic scholarship to NYU. May still had her handmade quilt draped other the same old recliner chair, in addition to her old television set that was still positioned in the same position toward that recliner that it had been in for at least thirty years. After a couple of minutes examining everything with obdurate cognizance, May came back into the "living-in museum" of a living room and gave him a plate with a turkey sandwich on it with a side of potato chips.
"Here you go, dear." She said in an impliable manner. She sat down again and looked at her nephew who was looking suspicious at her while he was eating.
"Waz wong?" he asked with his mouth full of sandwich in a callous sort of way.
May looked at him with surprise and laughed, "Oh my word Peter! Nothing's wrong! I'm just so glad to see you, that's all." Peter raised his eyebrows in agnosticism, "'Oh no," he muttered under his breath, "Here we go again."
"You know, you never visit me Peter," May stated, rearranging some magazine on the coffee table in nervousness, "But I understand, your studies go first."
Peter rolled his eyed and placed the plate on the table, "Oh, no Aunt May. Things have been really chaotic, especially last week when the toilet overflowed and Harry and I had to get an emergency plumber before the whole flat collapsed." Peter tried to smile a genuine smile as he looked at his aunt. "Look, I'll come more often for now on. School is less hectic and we fixed the toilet. So, I'll visit and do the lawn- and stuff."
May smiled and nodded, "Yes, that would be nice; the lawn needs something. It's hard to find someone to do it for minimum pay."
Peter frowned and got up from the couch swiftly which alerted May instantly. She looked at him with puzzlement. "Peter?" Aren't you going to finish your sandwich?"
Peter started to head to the stairs when he turned around. "When are they supposed to be here?" he said stoically.
May continued her puzzled look, "Uh, ten minutes." As Peter headed up the stairs, May called out to him.
"Peter?"
Peter turned around and smiled a fake smile, "Yes?"
"Why don't you wear something a little better for canning? I put some pants and a shirt on your bed. Wear those; the clothes you're wearing could get dirty."
"Yes, Aunt May."
As Peter reached his bedroom, he angrily threw his carry-on bag on his old worn-out bed. He saw that also his room hadn't changed either which disgusted him. He flopped on the bed with a heated look upon his face, 'I guess I can't do anything right' he told himself. It angered him that his aunt thought that he was abandoning this fragmented and torn-apart family. It also sickened him that the whole house had not changed in the two years that he has been gone. 'Will I ever be on my own?'
He looked on the other side of the bed and a pair of his worn-out jeans and an old, overlarge after school program t-shirt. He shook his head, 'I'm twenty and she's still bossing me around.' A few minutes later, he had on his jeans and large shirt on and he took a couple of minutes to sit on his bed and think.
He looked around in his room and he remembered the good, old days where he wasn't Spider-man or wasn't 'technically' a freak. A few tears rolled down his eyes as he looked across this room and saw the bedroom window of Mary Jane Watson next door. He will always remember watching her getting ready in the morning brushing her hair and putting on her 'mask'. He also will remember that day at Norman Osbourne's funeral the vow of revenge from Harry and the haunting kiss from MJ. More tears rolled down his cheeks, 'I will never have a normal life'.
All of a sudden, the doorbell rang and Peter looked out his window again looking through MJ's abandoned room and residence and callously wiped some stray tears running down his cheeks and lips. He walked out of his room and headed downstairs in order to start canning with everyone. As Peter continued to wipe his face with the back of his hand, he walked into the kitchen to meet Aunt May's friends.
"Peter!" Aunt May said as she hurriedly walked over to Peter who had just arrived. "Peter, this is Emily Watson and her fiancé Rick Thompson."
'Watson?' Peter asked himself. 'Watson as in-?' Just then he got his answer. A gal walked into the kitchen with a large box of Mason jars. The gal was Mary Jane Watson.