Peter sounded a bit apprehensive and shocked as he looked at the bump on my
head.
"Normally I would say that the bump on your head is making you wacky, but
it wouldn't explain how you know my name."
I could tell he doubted me; maybe he thought I was obsessive with Spider- Man and found out his identity and made this all up.
He let out a sigh and then said to me, "Have you told anyone my identity?"
"Not in this world."
He let out another sigh at the comment and raised his hand to touch his head in confusion. "Do you have anywhere to go?"
"Uh no! Like I said, I don't belong here."
"I'm gonna take you to my apartment to get cleaned up. Is that ok uhhh....?"
"Eileen, Eileen Samson."
"Oh, like the..."
"Yes just like the song."
"Hey I wasn't going to break out in song and dance or anything," he said holding his hands up in defense.
Well at least he trusts me enough to take me to his apartment.
I sat on the bathroom counter waiting for him to return from his apartment with bandages and the stinging antiseptics. I looked at the bathroom walls noticing that it needed a paint job badly and the tile could use a good scrub. Peter just needs to get out of this place as soon as he could afford it.
Then I heard the creaking of the door knob and knew that Peter was back with the first aid kit.
He still looked at me apprehensively. I think he's contemplating on what to believe or not to believe.
He took the rubbing alcohol out and dabbed some on a cotton ball.
"I bet you're a pro at this," I said trying to break the uneasiness.
"So uh, Eileen in your world where do you live?"
"I live in California. And no not the OC and no I don't see celebrities daily," I said smiling.
"Well you got your bases covered with that question."
"Ya, well I get that a lot when I go to different places."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a college student; I'm hoping to get my degree in business. I'm also a band manager, or was."
"What do you mean?"
"My friends were all in the band, it wasn't like they were well known but they were a great local band."
He moved my strawberry blonde hair out of my face to dab the cotton swab saturated with rubbing alcohol.
"What do you mean by wer-."
I cut him off by sucking in air between my teeth because the alcohol was stinging my bump on my head or that was a good reason to cut him off.
"Sorry, it's gonna sting a bit. You know, now that I look at this, it seems more like a gash."
"Call it whatever you want, but all I know is that it hurts."
He chuckled a little bit. "Wait until we get to your arm."
"Wow! I got a laugh out of you."
"It's just nice that I'm not on the other side of the cotton swab."
There was another pause of uneasiness.
"So do you have any family back home?"
"No, not really, I never knew my dad; and my mom was in some bad situations and split when I was little. I moved from foster home to foster home until I was finally eighteen."
"Oh I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't mean to pry."
"It's ok; it could have been a lot worse. I'm thankful that my mom had enough sense to know she couldn't raise me right and I give her some credit for that."
Then I heard foot steps climbing the stairs outside and distant tapping on Peter's door.
"Peter? Are you home?"
"Is that Mary-Jane?"
He looked at me a bit surprised again that I knew another big detail of his life.
"Oh...um...ya, hold on a second."
He walked out closing the door behind him. It really didn't matter if he closed the door or not. The walls were paper thin and I could hear everything if they talked at the right volume.
Then I heard the chirpy red head talk. "Hey tiger! Did I catch you at a bad time?"
Peter's voice sounded a bit distracted as he answered. "Naw, I...it's just..."
"It's just what?" She sounded concerned. I got up from the counter and walked over to the door so I could hear better.
"It's this girl," he said continuing, "that I met today. She was in an alley and I was chasing these robbers; but she was caught in the crossfire and when it was all over she was telling me these crazy things."
"Like what??"
"Like she shouldn't be alive and that I was just a comic book character, or a part of a franchise. I didn't bring up the subject again; I didn't know if I should just patch her up and take her to the hospital or have her hang around for a while to see what else she says and decide what to do next."
Great he wants to ship me to the funny farm. I gotta think of a way to prove to him that I'm telling the truth. But how can I? All I have is my word.
Whenever I get nervous I kinda dig my hands in my pocket. Then my finger ran across a thick piece of paper. That's it!! I opened up the door before he had time to say anything else.
"I have a way to prove that I'm not wacky." I pulled out the ticket stub from the Spider-Man 2 movie.
He took the ticket stub from between my fingers. He looked shell shocked.
"What is it Peter?" MJ asked.
"It's a ticket stub to a movie called Spider-Man 2," he replied with his mouth open.
I could tell he doubted me; maybe he thought I was obsessive with Spider- Man and found out his identity and made this all up.
He let out a sigh and then said to me, "Have you told anyone my identity?"
"Not in this world."
He let out another sigh at the comment and raised his hand to touch his head in confusion. "Do you have anywhere to go?"
"Uh no! Like I said, I don't belong here."
"I'm gonna take you to my apartment to get cleaned up. Is that ok uhhh....?"
"Eileen, Eileen Samson."
"Oh, like the..."
"Yes just like the song."
"Hey I wasn't going to break out in song and dance or anything," he said holding his hands up in defense.
Well at least he trusts me enough to take me to his apartment.
I sat on the bathroom counter waiting for him to return from his apartment with bandages and the stinging antiseptics. I looked at the bathroom walls noticing that it needed a paint job badly and the tile could use a good scrub. Peter just needs to get out of this place as soon as he could afford it.
Then I heard the creaking of the door knob and knew that Peter was back with the first aid kit.
He still looked at me apprehensively. I think he's contemplating on what to believe or not to believe.
He took the rubbing alcohol out and dabbed some on a cotton ball.
"I bet you're a pro at this," I said trying to break the uneasiness.
"So uh, Eileen in your world where do you live?"
"I live in California. And no not the OC and no I don't see celebrities daily," I said smiling.
"Well you got your bases covered with that question."
"Ya, well I get that a lot when I go to different places."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a college student; I'm hoping to get my degree in business. I'm also a band manager, or was."
"What do you mean?"
"My friends were all in the band, it wasn't like they were well known but they were a great local band."
He moved my strawberry blonde hair out of my face to dab the cotton swab saturated with rubbing alcohol.
"What do you mean by wer-."
I cut him off by sucking in air between my teeth because the alcohol was stinging my bump on my head or that was a good reason to cut him off.
"Sorry, it's gonna sting a bit. You know, now that I look at this, it seems more like a gash."
"Call it whatever you want, but all I know is that it hurts."
He chuckled a little bit. "Wait until we get to your arm."
"Wow! I got a laugh out of you."
"It's just nice that I'm not on the other side of the cotton swab."
There was another pause of uneasiness.
"So do you have any family back home?"
"No, not really, I never knew my dad; and my mom was in some bad situations and split when I was little. I moved from foster home to foster home until I was finally eighteen."
"Oh I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't mean to pry."
"It's ok; it could have been a lot worse. I'm thankful that my mom had enough sense to know she couldn't raise me right and I give her some credit for that."
Then I heard foot steps climbing the stairs outside and distant tapping on Peter's door.
"Peter? Are you home?"
"Is that Mary-Jane?"
He looked at me a bit surprised again that I knew another big detail of his life.
"Oh...um...ya, hold on a second."
He walked out closing the door behind him. It really didn't matter if he closed the door or not. The walls were paper thin and I could hear everything if they talked at the right volume.
Then I heard the chirpy red head talk. "Hey tiger! Did I catch you at a bad time?"
Peter's voice sounded a bit distracted as he answered. "Naw, I...it's just..."
"It's just what?" She sounded concerned. I got up from the counter and walked over to the door so I could hear better.
"It's this girl," he said continuing, "that I met today. She was in an alley and I was chasing these robbers; but she was caught in the crossfire and when it was all over she was telling me these crazy things."
"Like what??"
"Like she shouldn't be alive and that I was just a comic book character, or a part of a franchise. I didn't bring up the subject again; I didn't know if I should just patch her up and take her to the hospital or have her hang around for a while to see what else she says and decide what to do next."
Great he wants to ship me to the funny farm. I gotta think of a way to prove to him that I'm telling the truth. But how can I? All I have is my word.
Whenever I get nervous I kinda dig my hands in my pocket. Then my finger ran across a thick piece of paper. That's it!! I opened up the door before he had time to say anything else.
"I have a way to prove that I'm not wacky." I pulled out the ticket stub from the Spider-Man 2 movie.
He took the ticket stub from between my fingers. He looked shell shocked.
"What is it Peter?" MJ asked.
"It's a ticket stub to a movie called Spider-Man 2," he replied with his mouth open.