Chapter Text
That day was mostly a bad day.
Rain dripped all around. Normally a cause for a little celebration, the weather had predicted sun. So I wore my dry weather shoes. Halfway through walking my mail route and I could feel every terrible wrinkle on my soaked feet. My breath puffed out in the rainy February chill. I was substituting for another carrier who normally took this route. He had been recently assaulted. I shook my head, I just wanted to finish my route and go home. To be honest, I was more angry than scared. Of course I was sent on the dangerous route, and of course I was prepared for sunny weather, and of course it was pouring. In a mental rut thinking over and over about how miserable today was, I decided to cut through an alley just to make the day end sooner. Anything to escape the rain and make it home.
A group of men turned in behind me from the main Street. Suddenly wet socks and cold weather was a little less of a worry. I tensed, but continued walking at a brisk pace forward. Maybe these guys had legitimate reason to be here and I was overreacting. Just because the last mail carrier was assaulted did not mean I would be for certain, right?
“Hey!” One of them yelled. My heart sank. I clutched my bag close and ignored him.
“Hey I'm talking to you.” The man jogged to catch up to me and grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to turn and look at him.
“Excuse me?” I said, trying to make sure my voice sounded strong and sure.
“Think you got a lot of Valentine's cards in there?” He gestured to my mail bag. His hand still dug into my shoulder.
“I have to get going.” I said. My voice faltered. I pulled free my shoulder and began to run further into the alley, hoping to reach the other side.
“Hey!” One of the other men yelled. All three broke into a run after me. “Just give us the cards,” he said “we only want the cash in them!”
I squinted my eyes a little while I ran. Who thinks that Valentine's day is a holiday where people send cards with cash?
A quick glance behind let me know that the three men were catching up. I needed to make a decision. Would I let the men steal my mail bag, have to call my boss, file a police report and maybe get fired for not going along the safe recommended route? Or would I try to fight back, maybe knock one of them out, then get my bag stolen and get fired? Either way ended bad for me, but honestly it had been a bad kind of day. I pulled my bag off my shoulder. I turned my momentum into an abrupt turn. With my entire body focusing into one move, I pulled the bag around by the handle directly into the closest man's temple. Thirty pounds of mail reinforced by hard cardboard threw the man to the ground. The other two stopped with me. The larger man cracked his knuckles, while the other bared his teeth in a grimace.
I forced my whole body to push up into a yell for help, praying I would catch the attention of absolutely anyone from the main Street. The smaller man pulled up his fists. I raised my bag between us. He lunged forward. A sharp airy noise sounded behind the man and he was pulled back. And up.
Before I could make sense of what I saw, the man was rising back along the wall, struggling and grunting. I followed the cord which led from his back up to see the force at the other end. A sight known to anyone in New York, Spider-Man stood at the top of the building. His red and blue suit stood in defiance of the grey-tinged city.
While I gawked, the larger man took his opportunity to strike. His fist connected directly with my eye socket. He grabbed my bag. I fell back to the opposite wall.unable to see, I could still hear the small thud of Spider-Man touching down on the alley floor, and the much larger thud of the Spider-Man taking the large man to the ground.
My eye throbbed. I stood up completely and clutched it with both hands, hoping pressure would keep away the pain. It did not. I could hear the windy sounds of Spider-Man's webs, I assumed he was more thoroughly subduing the muggers. I felt a hand on my shoulder again.
Unable to see very well out of one eye , I flailed my hands back to try and discourage my attacker.
“Hey, uh Spider-Man!” I called to him. My hand hit something. Red and blue blurs danced in front of me.
“Hey, hey! Sorry, it's me, I'm Spider-Man” he said “Sorry- sorry I was trying to… are you okay?”
I took a step back, panting. The eye the larger man hit was swelling beyond my ability to see out of it easily, but my other eye was fine- as long as I didn't have my hands in front of it touching my other eye. Spider-Man stood before me, his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. One hand held my mail bag. I realized, I had never seen Spider-Man in the flesh before. Of course living in New York meant that everyone heard about him often, even seen articles with pictures of him. But in all my years of living here I had never yet seen him in the flesh.
“I, uh…” I started. What kind of thing are you supposed to say to a superhero that stopped muggers from stealing your mail bag? “Yeah, I think I'm okay. Thank you.”
“Eeh, it's what I do.” He shrugged. “The police are on the way for these guys. How is your eye?” Spider-Man pulled in closer to inspect. He smelled like wet spandex.
“It will heal up, it doesn't feel like there's any lasting damage.” I said. The hot pain of being freshly punched had subsided a little bit, but there was still pain there.
Spider-Man stepped back again. “Are you sure? Can you see out of it? Dizzy at all? I can take you to the hospital if you need it.”
“Hospital? Oh no no, it hurts a little bit but it's really not that bad. It's just a little swollen” I said. “I don't want my postmaster to know I took this alley, anyway. If he knew I took a shady shortcut and got jumped he might fire me.”
“Maybe a little got jumped.” He said. He nudged the man I knocked out with my mail back. “Maybe a little bit did the jumping.” I could hear his smile in his voice. “That was pretty brave of you to do that. Maybe a little stupid, but still pretty brave.”
My face felt warm. “I’ve just had a bad day. Maybe I wanted to take my anger out on something.”
He stood for a second, quiet. “Been there.” He said. “I could help out, could I take some of the mail and get it out quicker?”
I laughed. “I appreciate that, I really do, but I don't think that's allowed. Also unless you're a mailman under that suit you'll do it wrong.”
He handed me back my mail bag. “I guess you're right. Better leave it to the professional. I hope you have a better day from here on out.” He said. He bent his knees, and then leapt right up to the third-story roof of the building. He disappeared from view, and then popped his head back out. “Never use meat on a black eye” he yelled down to me. “You might get an infection. Use a bag of peas instead.”
I waved my hand. “Thank you! For everything” I yelled back to him. He left again. I exited the alley and decided it was probably best to continue my route as recommended, no more shady shortcuts.
After I finished with my route, I decided to celebrate not losing my job by stopping at a coffee shop on the way home. I stopped to look at the menu apparently too close to the register, as people began to line up behind me. A little panicked, I stepped back and gestured to the man right behind me to go forward.
“I'm sorry, I really don't know what I want yet, I haven't been here before.” I said.
He took the place at the register. Most of the line passed before I decided what I wanted. I started to walk to the back of the line.
“Excuse me, miss?” A man near the front said while waving to me. “I saw that you were here before me, you can go in front of me if you want to.”
“Oh, thank you.” I said stepping in front of him.
“It's no problem.” He said. “You look like you've had a rough day.”
“I appreciate the thought, and it started out that way, but it turned out not terrible.” I said, smiling. “I met Spider-Man today. He saved me from some muggers.”
As popular a figure as Spider-Man was, several people in line looked at me when I said that.
“Did he give you that black eye?” An older man a few places back in line asked in a serious tone.
“No, no.” I said. “I was stupid and tried to fight three at once. Spider-Man is the only reason I'm not in the hospital right now.”
My turn in line came up, and I made my order. Many little conversations arose debating whether Spider-Man was actually good for New York or not. I reached to pull out my wallet.
“What is a good name for that order, miss?” Asked the barista at the counter.
“Ava.” I replied. As I pulled out my card the man behind me cut in.
“I can get that for you. I’m sure Spider-Man would appreciate you speaking up for him.” He said, placing money on the counter.
“Oh, are you sure?” I asked. He nodded, smiling. “Thank you so much.” I said.
“And can I get a name for your order?” The barista asked, handing back change for my order.
“My name is Peter.” The man said before ordering.
That day was mostly a good day, I decided.