I’m Not Becoming Spider-Man - Chapter 32: Dinner Time (Patreon)

“You've probably seen it, Gwen. My room is right next to Peter's.”

“Wait, right next door?” Gwen turned toward her.

“That's right. We're neighbors.”

“So you grew up together?”

“Well, we weren't born in the same delivery room,” Mary Jane said, tilting her head. “Why? Jealous?”

“Wouldn't you be?” Gwen replied. “You've got a wonderful friend. He's smart, capable, considerate, and he actually listens to you. Meanwhile, I don't have a single person here I can talk to.”

“What about your parents?” Mary Jane asked.

“My mom died giving birth to me.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize, Mary Jane. I never knew her. All I have are my dad's stories and some photographs. It's hard to feel anything real for someone I've never met.”

“Then what about your father? He seems pretty nice. He takes you to school and picks you up every day.”

“Oh, God. I'd rather he didn't! It's so embarrassing. He never respects me or understands me. He still treats me like a little kid...”

Mary Jane said nothing. She sat with her hands on her knees, quietly letting Gwen unload her frustrations.

Only after Gwen had said almost everything she wanted to say did Mary Jane venture, “Maybe things aren't quite as bad as you think...”

“Oh, Gwen, you're home already... Who's this?” George had just opened the door. Still in uniform, he was surprised to find a redheaded girl sitting on the couch.

“My friend, Mary Jane,” Gwen answered.

“Oh. Well, why didn't you tell me you were having a friend over?” He looked flustered. His police uniform was wrinkled, and he smelled distinctly unpleasant after work.

“Do I have to report every little thing to you?”

“All right. Do you girls want anything to drink? Is she staying for dinner? I could pick something up when I go out to buy food...”

“Enough, Dad. Aren't you working overtime tonight?”

“Uh, yes. Yes, I am.” George agreed in a hurry. He didn't want to intrude on Gwen's time with her friend. Perhaps he'd be better off going back to the station for the evening.

“But couldn't you stay for dinner first?” a voice came from the doorway before it had even closed. Peter raised the bags of meat and vegetables he'd bought. “I picked up plenty.”

...

Bubble, bubble!

A pot simmered noisily in the kitchen. George sat on the couch while Gwen watched television with her arms folded. The news was covering questions raised during the military's year-end audit. Lawmakers were demanding to know where all the defense money had gone and calling for spending cuts.

Gwen clearly wasn't paying attention to the report. She simply didn't want to speak to her father, leaving Mary Jane trapped awkwardly between them.

George couldn't find a good opening, either. Eventually, the silence grew too uncomfortable. “Gwen, how... how have your grades been lately?”

“Same as always. You don't have to worry about them.”

“No, I meant...”

Peter leaned out of the kitchen. “Hey, George, could you give me a hand?”

“Oh, of course! Absolutely.” George seized the excuse and practically sprang off the couch.

Mary Jane looked toward the kitchen. Peter gave her a pointed lift of his chin. She sighed and turned to Gwen. “So, have you thought of a name for the band yet?”

“Oh... What do you think about...”

The kitchen felt strangely unfamiliar to George. He could remember when he used to cook for Gwen, years ago. But as his duties grew after his promotion, and Gwen spent more and more of her time at school, he'd gradually stopped using it.

These days he barely entered unless he was cleaning the entire apartment. Gwen probably opened the refrigerator far more often than he did.

“Just slice the cutlets, dust them with starch, and then add the crushed garlic...” Peter explained. “Anyway, if anything's unclear, ask me.”

“Right. Of course.” George picked up the knife and got to work. Delicious aromas rose from the bubbling pot. He'd almost forgotten how brightly the kitchen lights shone, since he rarely switched them on anymore.

“Oh, and George, would you like an apron? Better not get anything on your uniform.”

“Good idea. I know there's one around here somewhere...” George rummaged through the kitchen until he found an apron. He dusted it off and put it on, though it was a little too small and looked rather ridiculous.

“Looking good,” Peter said with a nod. “Raising Gwen on your own must be hard.”

“Oh, not too bad. It's just...”

“She's stubborn and rebellious sometimes, right? She's at that age.”

“Exactly. One moment she was little, and the next she'd grown so much I couldn't understand her anymore.” George found the boy surprisingly easy to talk to.

“She does have some immature habits,” Peter agreed. “To tell you the truth, there are times when even I can't put up with her.”

“See? How am I supposed to stop worrying about her when she acts like that? She's always...” George began complaining to Peter as freely as though they were friends of the same age, rather than decades apart.

Peter occasionally agreed with a word or two. Between the conversation in the kitchen and the chatter in the living room, Gwen's apartment came alive. It felt busier than it did at Christmas.

“She's been talking about moving out and sharing an apartment with friends,” Peter said. “I imagine you already know.”

“Of course. It's been giving me a headache. So you've come to talk me into letting her go?”

“No.” Peter shook his head. “I'm not here to convince you, George. What would I gain from that? I just want you and Gwen to communicate properly. Do you know what she says when she talks to me?”

“What does she say?”

“That you don't understand her, that you won't give her freedom, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, I've already given her plenty! She's still a child. How can I be comfortable letting her go out on her own?” George replied. “If you were her roommate, Peter, I wouldn't worry. But there are always going to be things she can't handle by herself.”

Peter didn't argue with him. He simply asked, “Would you like to take a look at the apartment, George?”

George hesitated. “Well... I suppose... I really should see it.”

“She needs your encouragement, George.”