Webs We Weave



Chapter Six

DISCLAIMER :: This tale blends together aspects of Peter Parker/Spider-Man and Gwen Stacy/Ghost Spider/Spider-Gwen from Marvel Comics, Marvel Television, and Marvel Studios. Fanfiction? Sort of. The world and characters are mine, but they may seem familiar.
Author's note: Ready as it's gonna be for now. Hope it's up to snuff.

Standing on a hill with some of the best views of Manhattan in the five boroughs, my eyes fell on a simple, rectangular headstone. The inscription read: Maxine Elizabeth Parker; (née Stacey); February 6, 1967 - September 29, 2000; Beloved Wife, Mother, Sister, and Teacher. Tears flooded my eyes and threatened to burst free from the confines of my eyelids.

“Hey, Mom,” I managed to say through a huge frog in my throat. “Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve come to see you.”

My weak knees buckled and I kneeled before the headstone. On impulse, I brushed away all debris obscuring the stone and inscription. The last time I had visited was her birthday in 2020, right before the pandemic consumed the world. Technically, I was now the same age she was when she died, though I didn’t look it anymore.

My mom was a high school science teacher. She worked at the same place I graduated from. There was a lot of commotion around a superintendent of a neighboring district who was being investigated for financial mismanagement. I had made it home and was the only person in the apartment for the longest time. My dad was held up by some idiot who decided to slam into the police station that night. My mom had been held up by a staff meeting. Dad insisted on getting her a car because of all the animosity towards the NYPD at the time. She only managed to make it to Utica, where a drunk driver ran a red light at high speed and T-boned her car. Dad was excused by his lieutenant from the idiot thing after they learned about Mom. He came back home and brought me to Interfaith. Everything happened within six blocks. Mom was pronounced “DOA” at the hospital.

She was buried here at The Evergreens Cemetery a little over a week later.

Before the pandemic, I would visit a few times a year. I was here for her birthday, Mother’s Day, the anniversary of her death, and other reasons. When I landed in the same high school she taught at, I discussed how weird that was. The faculty all knew her. Having your high school teachers feel sorry for you is another way to get ostracized. I visited when I graduated from high school. Even after enrolling in MIT up in Boston, I would make routine trips down to visit Mom and let her know how things were going. I came straight to her gravesite after getting my Master’s and showed it off. I’ve had so many one-sided conversations with her. I liked to think she heard everything.

“So,” I began with the frog still in my throat, “I know I don’t look or sound the same as I did last time. Something happened to me that I can’t yet explain. So far, I know this: a pulse or wave of energy struck the Earth a couple of days ago. It changed a few things. First, the obvious thing is that I’m female and apparently a teenager again. Second, I’ve got superpowers. I still need to test to determine which ones, precisely, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything Spider-Man does, which is crazy.”

I inhaled a deep breath. “Something I’ve never really talked with you about, Mom, is that I’m not even mad that I’m a girl, now. Not even a little bit. It’s weird that I’m a teenager again, though.” I shook my head. “Let’s go back a step. I’ve always felt… different. Maybe you noticed. Maybe you didn’t. I think Dad did. He was an asshole about it. I wish…” Tears built up and the frog got bigger. “I wish you were there to talk to about things. I’ve had to bottle things up for so long. I could always tell you how I was feeling. I don’t think Dad ever understood that.”

“I’m pretty sure I was never your son, Mom. It was always in the back of my mind. I could never express it and, most of the time, I didn’t even know how to define it. Dad and the rest of the world have tried to crush it. I even thought I could overcome it for the longest time. This whole thing that’s happened is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Mom.” Tears rolled down my face. “I’m a girl. I’m your daughter. I’ve got a chance to be that now. I wish you were here because I am so lost. I wish I could be in your arms as you held me and told me everything was gonna be okay… even if it’s not.”

“There’s been a lot of times, even if I didn’t bring it up, that I’ve thought about a name. They’ve been few and far between. The past couple of days, I’ve been wondering what you would have named me. Would it have been something popular like Ashley or Jessica? Would it have been more Irish, like Aileen or Patricia? Maybe you would have named me after you, with Maxine or Elizabeth. I can’t really know for sure… unless I ask Dad, but I’m not ready to talk to him. I wish I could ask you instead of him.”

In all the years since I lost her, I don’t think I’ve ever missed my mom more. The silence around me was deafening. The symphony of the city seemed so far away. It had been almost twenty-five years since she was killed and it felt like it had just happened yesterday. I needed her, but instead I had to talk to a headstone that would never respond.

When I pulled out my phone, the screen flickered and the browser with the tabs with names was the open application. I sat there for a while, continuing to flip through names. I liked a few, so I opened those as separate tabs. There were fourteen open tabs that featured baby girl names and their meanings. I had only made it to the E’s before I gave up.

“You know what’s funny, Mom?” I began my soliloquy once more. “I don’t really feel like my degree from MIT is all that big of an achievement. Sure, it was a big thing, but where has it gotten me? By the time you were my age, you had a job you loved going to every day. You had a career. Dad’s been with the NYPD since he graduated high school. You guys weren’t rich, but you were at least happy. I haven’t been happy in a long time.”

I turned around and lay down right on top of my mother’s grave and looked up at the stars. There weren’t many visible because of the light pollution from the city, but there were five prominent points of light in the sky: Jupiter, Arcturus, Vega, Capella, and Mars. To the casual observer, they’d always be points of light randomly scattered on the black velvet sky. To my mother and me, they had meaning.

“This is a great view,” I stated softly. “There’s the largest planet in our solar system, the brightest star in the northern hemisphere, the star featured in Contact that you always complained they pronounced wrong, something we see as one star but is actually four in a double binary system, and the planet covered in iron oxide. There’s a star between Arcturus and Vega that is supposed to be visible as a supernova soon. You would probably have invited me to a rooftop viewing as soon as it was visible.”

My thoughts were all over the place. I let out another long breath. “Truth is… I finally have a chance to be happy, Mom. I’m gonna take it. I’m sure some day they’ll be able to explain what the hell happened a couple of days ago. Maybe I’ll be able to join the research team. For now, though, I’m just going to be content to be me. No more hiding. No more scurrying around when Dad’s not looking. No more pretending to be something I’m not.” A sigh escaped my lips as the whisper of a name that had been echoing in my mind most of the night came to a crescendo. “I know what name I’m gonna use, I think. Worked it out in my head.”

I stood up and grabbed my backpack, then slid it over my shoulders. Slipping my phone into my pocket once more, I glanced down at the headstone. “Good talk, Mom. I’ll see you again soon. Mother’s Day is coming up. I’ll bring some flowers. Maybe I’ll even wear a dress. I don’t know. What I do know is that I’ve gotta get back to The Village.”

With that said, I waved and made my way out of the cemetery. It was a fairly long walk from my mother’s gravesite to the entrance. There was plenty of time to think. My phone never left my pocket. I had worked things out in my head while speaking at my mother’s headstone. Once I left the cemetery, though, the phone did come out but it was to play some music. From the entrance, it was a short walk to the Broadway Junction station where I lost myself in the crowd once again, pulled out my MetroCard, and got to the platform to ride the A train back to Manhattan. It was getting late, so the express seemed to be the best option.

My thoughts wandered back to the events earlier in the evening. Specifically, the confrontation with those guys. I’ve never seen that kind of malice in someone’s eyes. I’ve never seen a coordinated effort to victimize someone before. I’ve never felt that kind of fear or vulnerability before. Sure, the streets are dangerous because they’re dangerous in any big city where there’s high poverty concentration. That event was different somehow. I couldn’t help but remember Ms. Maven’s words before I left: “Not in that form, you didn’t. Mind how you go, love.” The difference was that I had the body and face of a sixteen-year-old girl. Questions started popping up in my mind.

To answer them, I pulled out my phone again and started scanning crime statistics. I probably shouldn’t have done that. About 77% of women under 40 had been followed like I had that night. Somewhere around 62% of those happened between 5 pm and 9 pm, roughly the time I had the run-in with those guys. More than 54% of women had experienced some form of physical altercation along with cat-calling nonsense. According to the statistics, the city might be getting safer on paper, but not for women and girls. These sorts of incidents were actually on the rise. It’s the sort of thing you should hear on the evening news, but never do.

That’s when some words of wisdom echoed in my brain. I had proved that night I can do some pretty amazing things. I would have to practice them and get better, which had been made obvious to me. However, the words that echoed in my mind were: “When you can do the things that I can… but you don’t… and then the bad things happen… they happen because of you.” The words were from a movie and I’d watched a lot of movies. In that moment, I knew what I had to do. Naturally, I had no idea how to pull it off, but you bet your ass I was going to follow the example of Mark Watney and science the shit out of it.

Impatience was the name of the game from that moment forward. All of a sudden, the express train just wasn’t traveling fast enough. The only thing I wanted to do was get back to the community house and spend some time in my room with my re-acquired laptop. The minutes seemed to crawl by and the stops seemingly lasted longer every time. When we finally arrived at 4th Ave & Washington Square, I nearly leapt out of the seat and out the doors. A few people gave me odd looks, but I didn’t care.

It must have looked hilarious to watch some little ginger girl rush through the station and practically run through the streets. The bag on my back wasn’t heavy at all to me. It probably should have been with all the electronics inside, but it was more awkward to carry than anything. Thankfully, I didn’t have very far to go. Soon, I found myself on the tree-lined Jones Street and climbing the steps of number twenty-six. The moment I opened the door, the excitement ceased. Maven stood leaning against her desk with her arms folded. Her eyes communicated something I was already feeling: I was in trouble.

“Where the devil have you been, girl?” She snapped at me. “I instructed you to return at eleven. You’re nearly twenty minutes late.”

I threw my hands up in surrender. “Whoa, no need to read me the riot act. I actually rushed back from the subway.”

“Are your effects in that blindingly red sack?”

“Yes, they are.”

“Where were you? I’ve been worried for you.”

“It took some doing to get my things from my place in Bed-Stuy. Last time I was there, my roommates threatened to call the cops on me, remember?”

“You weren’t so forthcoming about that.”

“We haven’t actually discussed much about what happened that night.”

“Fair enough. That can’t be the only thing that kept you. Where were you?”

“I…” My brain stalled and my body slumped. “I stopped to visit my mom… ’s grave. I needed to process some things.”

Her disappointment and indignation turned to concern. “You all right then, love? Did she pass suddenly?”

“Yes. In the year 2000. When I was nine.”

“Been a long time, then. Seeking the wisdom of your ancestors, were you?”

“Something like that.”

She took in a breath. I couldn’t decipher the meaning. “The hour’s late. Off to bed with you. Don’t forget we need a name for you by tomorrow at supper.”

“I’ve got the name. I’ll tell you in the morning. Okay?”

“Certainly, love. Now, up the wooden hill with you.”

Ms. Maven’s little colloquials were sometimes hard to make sense of. Nodding in her direction, I made my way through the oak doors and up the stairs. There was a quiet conversation happening on the second floor that hushed as I passed, then resumed as I continued upward. I had yet to see whether or not the other two rooms on the third floor with me were occupied or not. At that time, I didn’t pay much attention. My singular goal was getting back to my room. Thankfully, that was achieved fairly easily.

Once inside, the bag began to be unpacked. The bedspreads were just piled onto the bed for the time being. The TV found a home atop the dresser. The gaming console, an older one, found a home on the desk in the corner so that it was close to the TV. The chargers and various cables found a home on the desk for the time being. Once all that was done, I put the bedspreads back into the bag. Finally, I sat on the bed I’d been given with my laptop and started putting thoughts down.

Those thoughts were relatively simple. They included things like ‘Am I seriously contemplating the idea of becoming a superhero?’, ‘What would being a superhero in 2025 mean?’, ‘Is this gonna piss off the cops?’, ‘I really need to figure out the limits of these powers.’, ‘Is building a suit a dumb idea?’, and ‘How would I even build a suit in the first place?’. Simple to ask. Complicated to answer. My resolve was generally focused on the idea that I didn’t want what could have happened to me earlier in the evening to happen to anyone if I had the power to stop it.

Setting my laptop aside, I flopped backward onto the bed and sighed. “Comic book logic is broken,” I told myself aloud. “How would anyone make this happen in the real world? I’m seriously nuts for even thinking this is a thing.”

I fell asleep in the clothes I’d been wearing, too tired to change out of them.

The next morning was Saturday. No school. I had two choices: face the music or hide in my room all weekend. The former was an idea that scared me the most. Mingling with a bunch of teenagers and maybe trying to convince them I was one of them was a frightening idea. I was thirty-three, old by their standards. I also didn’t speak the language. Even in the “oughts”, we had our own lingo independent of the ‘90s kids. The latter idea wasn’t great, either. I was already hungry and wanted some coffee. I did have my laptop and gaming system to occupy myself with, but biological imperatives couldn’t be avoided. Physiologically, I could feasibly go without food all weekend. The human body can do that without too many consequences. I could get water from the shared bathroom, but I didn’t have a cup.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I got out of bed and changed clothes. Covered in a T-shirt and jeans, I opted to leave the room. Regardless of being consumed by trepidation, I made my way down the stairs. Having not checked the time on my way out of the room, I could only judge what time it was by the angle of light pouring into the building from the windows. It was still somewhat early morning. Several voices had been echoing from the cafeteria the whole time. I took a deep breath before I rounded the corner.

Where chaos was expected, I found a relatively calm environment. There were a couple of lively conversations occurring between a few people, but nothing to write home about. My eyes wandered from face to face. They were all just kids, but there was something in their eyes that connected them all. I couldn’t put my finger on it in that moment, but it would come to me in time.

I had to get through the awkward silence that took over when I entered the room. My heart skipped a little. I had never been a fan of being the center of attention. My eyes darted to the floor and I made my way over to the food and coffee. The breakfast was waffles. I grabbed a couple with some butter and syrup, then prepared a cup of coffee with some bland creamer. It wasn’t my favorite, but it was something I didn’t have to pay for.

I settled at an empty table. I kept my head down and minded my own business. The awkward silence ended and conversations sprang up again. It was my hope that I could just eat my meal and have my coffee undisturbed. The kids had other ideas. One of them approached me. He was a tall, lanky black kid that moved in a manner almost like a girl. I tried not to make assumptions, but his movements and wardrobe told me he might be gay. He sat at my table with a beaming smile on his face.

“Wussup, New Girl!” he greeted. “You just get in?”

I finished chewing a bite and prepared the next one. “Yea.”

He smiled and extended his hand. “I’m Matcha, your welcome wagon.” I noted that his accent sounded close to mine. “Well, I’m everybody’s welcome wagon, actually. I make it a point to do it and be a friendly face for the newbies. You want the tea, you come see Matcha. You got beef, you come to me. I don’t tolerate no drama llamas, understand?”

“Got it,” I plainly stated, then readied another bite to shove in my mouth after asking my question. “Your sound is familiar. Where you from?”

“Originally, Bed-Stuy. The Village is my home, now. You sound familiar, too.”

I finished chewing before responding, “Crown Heights. Born and raised.”

“No shit? Small world!”

“You go to ‘The High’?”

“Nah. My parents wanted me to become a CEO or something, so I had to go to Bedford Academy. Hated every second. What about you?”

“That’s probably why I don’t know you. I had to go to ‘The High’.”

“Pretty white girl like you? Really? I’m sorry?”

I shrugged and popped some more waffle in my mouth. After chewing and swallowing, I met his eyes. “It was no biggie. Kept to myself.”

“How’d you end up here, then? Most of us are queer, by the way. Plenty of disaffected youth up in this bitch. I got kicked out ‘cause I had the nerve to tell my pastor dad that I was fruity as a cocktail. He wanted straight up beer, no chaser.” He rolled his eyes.

“Sounds like my dad. He’s a cop.”

He nearly jumped out of his chair as he recoiled dramatically. “The kid of a cop went to ‘The High’?! How are you not dead?!”

“Keeping to myself.” I took another bite and started chewing.

His eyes widened. “You’ve got more balls than most guys. I don’t think I’ll ever have those kinds of stones. Wow.”

I shrugged again. “Not really. Mind your business and nobody messes with you.”

“Droppin’ truth bombs, girlie. You ain’t answered my question, though: how’d you end up here?”

I let out a sigh, giving myself the opportunity to think for a moment. Looking down, I poked my waffle with my fork. My thoughts moved quickly and there was really only one way to answer without giving away too much, “I wasn’t who they thought I was, so I got kicked out. Ms. Maven found me on the C train.”

“Nobody here calls her that. It’s either just ‘Maven’ or ‘Aunt Mae’. She’s good and genuine people, so we get pretty close to her. Don’t cross her, though. She gets mad and yells at you in Irish that only sounds more scary ‘cause you got no idea what she’s saying.”

I finished chewing another bite. “Noted.”

“So, what’s your name?”

For half a second, I froze. That was the moment I was worried about for the last few days. The name I’d finally decided on bubbled into my surface thoughts. I offered a short smile. “I’m Saoirse.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Government name? No street name?”

I shook my head. “No. Haven’t been out here that long.”

He offered a small shrug. “All right, then. Good to meet you, Saoirse.”