Spider-Man crouched against the wall, hanging to the side of the building fifty stories up. He clenched his teeth in frustration as he clutched his left hand with his right. Wincing with the pain, he slid off his glove and frowned at the dark bruise spreading across his wrist and the back of his hand. It was already swollen.
"Broken," he muttered angrily. "So much for that." At least he had managed in taking down the criminals. Somehow, he always came through… no matter what happened.
"But the issue now," he told himself as he glanced around the alley to get his bearings. "Is getting this wrist taken care of. That, and actually doing what I set out to do in the first place. I hate getting sidetracked."
It was already two hours since he had left on what was supposed to be a twenty minute trip. Wondering if he would actually make it before nightfall, he swung back, one-handed, to where he had left his clothes and changed quickly. The only option he had was to take care of the injury himself… something he hated doing, especially when it involved an injury that required two hands to fix and he only had one. Stopping at a corner drugstore, he grabbed the things he needed and retreated to an alleyway to form a clumsy, makeshift splint. He thought of MJ as he worked, still puzzling over their encounter a few days ago… that is, if it really had been MJ. He had never been entirely sure… somehow he just felt it had been her. Although that made absolutely no logical sense. She was just an old classmate he hadn't seen in years. She had no connection whatsoever with Spider-Man.
So why had it felt so familiar… so right… to be with her? It was as if he had always been with her… and that dream he had… that vision. It had been so real… He pulled the necklace from his pocket as he sat there in the alley, turning it over and over in his hand. There were no personal marks, no clues whatsoever… and yet it seemed so significant. Just a plain, empty silver heart locket with his spider symbol etched into it. What did it mean?
"What you're doing here," he snapped at himself as he stood, shoving the necklace back into his pocket, "is overthinking this. You're way overthinking this. None of this can possibly mean anything, other than you've had a few bad dreams and some random woman found you in the alley and took pity on you." He shook his head as he said the words, for he didn't believe them. He knew something terribly important was going on and it frustrated him more than words could say that he couldn't figure it out. His mind felt foggy as though something was holding it back… obscuring the truth.
He walked the rest of the way, hoping the slow travel would somehow clear his mind. He was always moving too fast… he left no time to stop and think… to pray.
Be still and know that I am God.
His heart ached at the meaning of those words. Maybe he had just been overlooking the answer all along. But he had no more time to ponder it just then. He was standing at Aunt May's door.
She opened immediately to his knock, her entire face glowing with excitement when she saw him standing there. In less than a minute, he found himself sitting at her kitchen table, wolfing down chocolate chip cookies like a starving man.
"You never come around anymore, Peter," Aunt May admonished, grinning. "Work and school keeping you pretty busy?"
"Yeah." He couldn't explain it… the feelings of frustration and confusion and longing that swirled through him night and day. And yet, he wanted her to know somehow. She was the only anchor in his life… his only source of encouragement. She would know what to say.
"I've been…" he sighed, running his good hand through his hair. So far she hadn't seemed to notice the crude splint on his left hand, and he was relieved. "I've been… struggling… lately…"
"Oh?" Aunt May looked up from the tea kettle she was heating on the stove. "Anything you want to talk about?"
"Yeah. No… I mean…" He groaned. "Yeah. There is. I just… don't know how to say it…"
She sat down across from him, reaching across the table to clasp his hand in hers.
"Try, Peter. I'll understand." She smiled at him, encouragingly. He took a deep breath, racking his brain for the right words.
"It's just that… I'm… I've been feeling… empty. Lately, I mean. The past couple months or so. And I can't understand it. As far as I can remember… I was fine before. But… I just have this feeling of something missing… like a piece of me is gone. The… the most important piece. And I don't even know what it is." He paused, glancing up at her. She didn't speak, her eyes silently urging him to keep going.
"I've been having dreams…" he continued. "Dreams about a girl. A beautiful girl… with… with red hair. I see her and she knows me… and I feel like she loves me and I love her. Like we have this bond with each other… like… like soulmates. And then something happens… she falls off a building, or she dies in my arms… or…" he bit his lip, grimacing at the memory. "Or she's in the grip of a monster… a monster with yellow eyes that… laughs… this sounds crazy, doesn't it?"
"Dreams are always crazy," Aunt May spoke solemnly. "But that doesn't mean that they're empty nightmares. Sometimes… God gives us dreams to reveal something to us. Please, go on, Peter. I know there's more." She smiled.
"Yeah. Do you remember… Mary Jane Watson? The girl who lived next door… back when we lived in Queens?"
"Of course I remember her," Aunt May's face lit up. "Who could forget her? You once said she was like a living song… music personified. I think you were in the ninth grade then. I couldn't believe you could be so poetical."
"A living song…" Peter mused.
"I'll never forget the first time you saw her," Aunt May continued, her smile widening. "You were just six years old. She stepped out of the car and you grabbed me and said "Aunt May! Aunt May! Is that an angel?" I had always hoped that you and her would… well… what's the use of regretting the past?"
"That's just it," Peter shrugged. "She's been on my mind lately, and I don't understand it. I mean, I haven't even spoken to her in absolutely years. But I keep thinking of her… the girl I'm dreaming about… she looks just like her, Aunt May."
"And?" Aunt May prompted gently.
"And I think all this somehow has something to do with her. Something's wrong, Aunt May. I don't know what, but I can feel it. Something is terribly wrong." He stopped, clenching his eyes shut in frustration as he dug through the tangle of shadowy memories in his mind. "I'm lonely, Aunt May," he whispered, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. "Terribly, achingly lonely."
"Peter…" Aunt May smiled sadly at him, her eyes seeming suddenly to look right through him to his heart. "I know."
"Huh?"
"I know who you are."
"What do you mean?" he panicked suddenly, his mind completely thrown off track by the swift change of topic.
"My nephew, the hero of New York," Aunt May continued softly. "Yes, Spider-Man, I know who you are." He only stared at her in astonishment as she spoke. "I know who you are, and I know how hard it's been. I know you've been struggling. And I know you've been in pain." She reached over the table to gently touch his injured hand. Her eyes were filled with tears as she looked up at him.
"How did you…"
"I've raised you from a child," she grinned. "I know you maybe even better than you know yourself. Think you could keep a secret like that from me?"
He laughed slightly, shaking his head.
"I want you to realize something, Peter," she grew serious. "Life is hard. And maybe it's been harder for you than for most people. But life comes with blessings too. Sometimes you just have to wait for them. You have to go through the bad times to get to the good times. Just remember, it's always darkest before the dawn."
"You think so?" Peter smiled half-hopefully, believing and yet not believing.
"I know so." Aunt May rose, bending over him to hug him tightly. "I'll pray for you, Peter. I know you'll make it through this dark time. Just hold on a little while longer."
oOo
"This is crazy," Mary Jane sighed to herself as she rummaged through the box of papers. "I don't know why on earth I would think it's still here, when everything else has just… vanished… but if the diary was in this box, maybe it is too…" With an impatient gesture, she turned the box over, dumping its contents over the floor. And there it was, at the very bottom of the box. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it and she lifted it gently, tentatively, as if afraid it would vanish like a shadow.
"It's here," she whispered in awe. A photo album in red and blue, with a silver frame. Inside the silver frame was a wedding photo. Mary Jane felt her lip trembling and her eyes filled with tears as she stared at the picture. And two happy pairs of blue eyes stared back. That precious moment… frozen in time…
She bent her head to press her lips on the cover and for one brief moment, a faint memory flitted across her mind. Christmas morning… a fire crackling in the little gas fireplace… a little tree ablaze with colored lights. Both of them… together… sitting cross-legged on the floor in matching pajamas, sipping hot chocolate… laughing at something that wasn't even funny, just because they were so happy. He had handed her a somewhat clumsily-wrapped box, his eyes shining in eager anticipation. She had thrown herself into his arms and kissed him.
She sighed sadly at the memory, afraid to believe that it could ever be right again. For hours she sat on the floor, flipping through the pages of the album again and again, staring at the pictures as if she could suddenly bring them back to life. It was like rereading her forgotten story in pictures rather than words. And his notes scribbled on every page… each one brought tears to her eyes all over again. She must remember. Somehow, she had to remember! She would force herself to remember.
Outside the sun had set and the night was dark, in spite of the city lights. The moon was shadowed by the clouds, the stars blotted out in inky blackness.
"It's always darkest before dawn," MJ murmured, pressing the album against her heart as she stared out the window into the black sky.
