I’m Not Becoming Spider-Man - Chapter 29: Preparations for Moving Out (Patreon)

Thompson came home and felt a weight lift from his chest. Jessie wasn't sitting outside the door today.

Inside, his mother, Rose, told him to eat something first.

“Jessie already ate and went to rest,” Rose said. Thompson had cereal with milk, along with some bread and salad. His mother sat beside him, watching as he ate.

“Your father's working late tonight. He won't be home until much later, so go to bed early when you're finished,” Rose told him quietly.

“Okay.”

“Oh, and one more thing...” Rose took several torn scraps of paper from her pocket and carefully arranged them on the table. “You led your football team to victory? Why didn't you tell me?”

“I... didn't think it mattered.” Thompson kept his eyes on his food.

“Oh, sweetheart, you should have told me. I'd have come to watch.”

“It was just a friendly game. Some of the games I played in middle school were more interesting,” Thompson said. “It's nothing you need to worry about.”

“How could I not care?” Rose reached over and stroked his cheek. “Look at this picture. It came out so well.”

“No, it didn't. I look terrible,” Thompson grumbled.

“Listen, Thompson. You're growing up. You need to know how to take care of yourself.” Her voice softened. “And don't become like your father.”

“I won't, Mom.”

“I repaired the other photographs and put them on your desk. Please don't throw them away, all right? I don't think I've seen a picture of you like this since elementary school.”

“I know, Mom.”

Thompson was nearly finished eating, but he still couldn't work out how to say what was on his mind.

“Something bothering you?” Rose asked.

“I... I want to move out. Some friends and I have talked about sharing a place.” He rushed the words out, afraid she might reject the idea. Besides, living elsewhere would surely cost money.

“That's all right, Thompson. You can move out.” Rose didn't hesitate. “Just don't tell your father.”

“Okay...”

But even after telling his mother, Thompson faced another problem. How was he supposed to ask Peter and Harley to let him join them?

...

“I'm planning to move out. A friend wants me to share an apartment with him.”

Peter made the announcement at the dinner table.

“Oh... Were the pancakes I made tonight not crispy enough? Oh, goodness...” Aunt May's face fell. “How can you say something like that, Peter?”

“No, Aunt May. It's not because I don't like living here...”

“I think he means it,” Uncle Ben said between bites of his meat-filled pancake. “He's reached an age where he should try living on his own.”

“Oh... but can you really take care of yourself?” May asked, still worried.

“Of course I can. I know how to cook, and I'm not lazy. Please stop treating me like a baby, Aunt May.”

“I support him,” Uncle Ben said. “Not because I'm trying to kick him out, mind you. He's just growing up.”

“All right...” May still looked miserable, but she gave her permission. Peter was a sensible child, after all, and he'd never given them much cause to worry.

“So am I coming along?” asked the other young woman at the table.

“Of course, Mary Jane. Unless you want to keep staying in that room?”

“Absolutely not, Peter. Not for a second.”

“Well, I suppose I'll have to take on a couple more jobs,” Uncle Ben remarked.

“Uh, you don't have to. I can pay my own living expenses,” Peter said immediately.

“So can I,” Mary Jane added.

“Fine, fine. Guess this old man's no use anymore,” Ben muttered. “Kids having to support themselves! I thought that sort of thing only happened in my father's day.”

“Uh... was it really that long ago?”

“Sure was. My father sold newspapers at the train station and mixed concrete on building sites. Things only got a little better after he enlisted. Of course, you two can't sell papers nowadays. Construction crews won't hire you, and you can't enlist for another couple of years.”

“Maybe Peter should open a little restaurant,” Mary Jane suggested, resting her chin in her hands. “He might make a fortune.”

“A place of your own would cost plenty,” Ben cautioned. “If you need money, come to us. And don't try to face any trouble alone.”

“I know my limits, Uncle Ben,” Peter assured him.

“Good, good.” Ben nudged Peter's shoulder. “Whatever happens, look after Mary Jane, okay?”

“Of course.”

After dinner, Peter went upstairs to his room. Mary Jane followed him.

“So, Mary Jane, what do you think?”

“About what?” She sat on his bed as comfortably as if it were her own.

“The apartment, obviously. Harley took me to see it. It's nice, and the school's really close... Uh, Mary Jane.” Peter gently pried away the arms she'd slipped around him from behind.

“Hmm?”

“Let go a minute and listen. I'll even pay your part of the rent, as long as you...”

“What? Are you trying to buy me?” Mary Jane asked, leaning against his shoulder. “So later you can use the rent to threaten me?”

“Do you honestly think I need that to threaten you?” Peter got to his feet, slipping out of her embrace. “You should spend more time talking with Gwen and Harley. You need friends of your own, instead of clinging to me all the time.”

“So you're tired of me?”

“That's not what I'm saying.”

“Fine, fine. I'll leave right now. I'll get out of your way.” Mary Jane marched toward the window.

“Hey, wait, Mary Jane!” Peter caught her arm. She turned expectantly, as though he might finally say what she'd been hoping to hear.

“It's safer to use the door.”

“That's enough! Peter, are you made of wood?” Mary Jane shook his hand off and folded her arms, looking at him with tears welling in her eyes.

“First, I should point out that every character in this book is an adult.”

“Who on earth are you talking to?!”

“Okay, Mary Jane, calm down. Nobody likes a noisy heroine. I'm a shameless womanizer. I fall for every woman I see. Got it?”

“Then why aren't there any of those magazines under your bed or in your closet?”

“You've been searching under my bed and through my closet? When?!”

“When you weren't around, obviously.”

“Ahem. Just because I don't keep adult magazines doesn't mean I'm not an adult.”