Act 3, Scene 20
Aunt May's front room. The television is on. It's another news broadcast delivered by the anchorwoman from Act 3, Scene 1.
ANCHORWOMAN: ...Police Chief confirmed today to the press that, while the NYPD is still holding a warrant out on Spiderman - or 'Bob Hesselmeyer', if you prefer - his status has been downgraded from the all-out manhunt of the past twenty-four hours.
She continues talking but our attention switches to Aunt May and Mary-Jane. May is sitting sipping tea while MJ dries dishes.
MARY-JANE: Can I ask you something, Aunt May?
AUNT MAY: Aren't I obliged to answer a few of my rescuer's questions? Ask away.
MARY-JANE: How did you feel when you...when you knew about Pete.
AUNT MAY: (smiles, putting down her tea)Proud. Oh surprised, it's not something an old woman expects to have a real-life superhero fussing over how heavy her shopping bags are...
MJ smiles.
AUNT MAY: ...but it felt right. It felt like...something that had been waiting to happen to him. I know that's crazy, but that's how I felt. Of course my memory could be a little off...it was almost a year ago now.
MARY-JANE: A year...you've known about Peter since last year?
AUNT MAY: You don't get saved from certain death by a talkative masked man without a few moments of clarity, my dear.
Once again, Mary-Jane, the girl saved repeatedly by Peter as Spiderman who hadn't the slightest clue about his secret identity, has the decency to look embarrassed.
AUNT MAY: There's something's wrong with Peter, isn't there.
MARY-JANE: Yes.
AUNT MAY: You're hoping he'll come here.
MARY-JANE: He knows we'll be here. He has to come eventually.
AUNT MAY: Do we have enough time to wait?
Mary-Jane bites her lip, upset. She walks over to the window and looks out onto New York in the distance. Aunt May rises from her chair behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder.
AUNT MAY: Find him.
MARY-JANE: I wouldn't know where to go.
AUNT MAY: You found me. And you love Peter. Go. I'll be here if he comes.
Mary-Jane grabs her overcoat and throws it on.
MARY-JANE: You call me if he shows up. You call me right away.
AUNT MAY: I will. Good luck.
MARY-JANE: Thanks, Aunt May.
With that she's out the front door and running. Aunt May watches her go from the front room window, before very slowly and deliberately walking to the table, sitting down, and beginning to cry. And not gentle tears either, but big, whooping sobs.
We stay on her for a moment before fading out.