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Peter’s and May’s morning routine began before the sun rose, so it was completely dark in May’s room when she opened her eyes to the beeping of her alarm clock. She groaned and rolled over to her husband’s side of the bed, which was still warm, and stretched. It was not overstating it to say she was dead on her feet, but it was Friday, and she would take Peter to get a popsicle after school, and his excitement over something so small would brighten her day. She pushed her glasses on her face and stumbled out of the bedroom and into the living area, where Ben sat on the couch, drinking hot tea and reading the newspaper. A singular floor lamp illuminated the room with warm, yellow light.
“Morning, my love,” Ben whispered. “Going to wake up our Pete?”
May and Ben Parker never wanted children of their own. A cat would have been satisfactory, if their landlord allowed it, but not a miniature human. They worked too much and still didn’t make enough money to give a child a life they deserved, they liked having date nights once in a while and May liked going to the bar with her friends after a long week of work. Somehow, a child did not fit into their lifestyle.
They of course made room for Peter when they gained custody of him: May started working from home, Ben turned his office into a little boy’s room, complete with glow-in-the-dark stars and Star Wars lego sets, and the apartment slowly began to fill with Peter’s presence. Goldfish crumbs were left on the table and blanket forts were built in the living room. And although May’s life felt more complete with Peter in it, raising him was hard, even after almost an entire year of doing it.
August of 2007 brought forth a new set of challenges. The makeshift family celebrated Peter’s sixth birthday at Chuck E. Cheese with his new classmates, which ended with May sitting in the backseat with him as he bawled in his booster seat and Ben sending guilt-stricken glances at her in the rearview mirror. Peter was shy. He still found it difficult to talk to his aunt and uncle, let alone other children. May and Ben had both agreed that the party would get him out of his shell a bit, but after that experience, they stopped pushing him so much about making friends. Peter’s well-being came first, even if May was worried sick.
May just about met her match when Peter started kindergarten. There was a whole new routine that she needed to help Peter adjust to, there was packing a lunch box because Peter wouldn’t touch the school food, and there was worrying about him after school because of how little energy he had left. “Is it this hard for every kid?” May whispered tearfully to Ben when they crawled into bed at night. “Not every kid has gone through as much as he has, love.” Ben said, “Give him time.”
And she did. All the time that Peter needed, May would give.
“Pete, baby, time to wake up, it’s picture day!” May said softly into the dark room. She made her way over to Peter’s bed, her eyes adjusting enough to make out his sweet face. She brushed some curls off of that face and thumbed at his eyebrow until his eyes fluttered open sleepily and he raised his little arms to the pillow and stretched. “You ready, tough guy?” May whispered, tapping his nose.
“Ready, tough guy,” Peter repeated, as if he was seeing how the words felt on his own tongue. May smiled fondly and carried him out of bed and to the bathroom sink, where she set him down on the step-stool and loaded his Ironman toothbrush. Peter stared up at her with big eyes. He hated brushing his teeth, but he also hated the feeling of dirty teeth. It was a lose-lose situation, she guessed, and usually ended up with Peter in tears either way, but May could make anything a bit more tolerable. “Which song are we singing today, Pete?”
Peter didn’t need but a second to think: “Sing Sunshine, May!” Peter opened his mouth and let May brush his teeth as she started to sing the lyrics to You Are My Sunshine.
She tamed his curls without much effort, and before long the two were back in Peter’s room so he could change out of his pajamas. May turned on his lamp and placed him on his mattress, where he hummed and bounced on his toes and fell backwards onto his back. May laughed with him as he began to giggle uncontrollably. “Alright, you little wiggle worm, time to get dressed.” Peter sobered immediately, looking over to the red button-down shirt and the corduroy pants. “Can I just wear my tee shirt, May, please?”
At the beginning of the school year, May and Ben had gone shopping for Peter. Along with his school supplies, they had bought him a few pairs of nice clothes to wear. When May changed him out of his pajamas and into these clothes on his first day, he began to panic and cry, tugging off his pants and locking himself in his closet. May had to call the school to inform them that Peter would be a couple hours late, and she was nearly in tears herself when she finally calmed him down enough to change him back into his comfy clothes and shush his sobs while he laid with his face pressed into his baby blanket.
The worst part was, May didn’t know why Peter reacted to things so intensely, she was so confused. When she asked Peter(who was donned in a Star Wars tee and soft, worn sweatpants) what had happened later that day he shrugged, eyes on his tennis shoes. “The buttons were cold.” He muttered. “and I didn’t like the sleeves.”
Back in the present, May sighed resignedly. “Can we just try these clothes, baby? The school wants you to be dressed nice.” Peter hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly, “Okay.” He agreed.
Peter didn’t start crying this time, but May could tell he was uncomfortable. He held his arms out slightly, as if he didn’t want to touch his own body, and he walked stiffly so as not to rub his legs against the pants. May grabbed his hand as they descended down the elevator into the lobby.
“Thank you, Pete. You look so handsome, you know that? I’ll bring you a change of clothes after your pictures if you want them.” Peter didn’t say anything, but leaned his head against her side. After the two clambered into the car, and Peter was safely buckled in, May asked, “What song is it going to be today, captain?” Even though she already knew the answer. Peter giggled, replying with his usual, “Play Sunshine, please!”
You Are My Sunshine was played on repeat for about twenty minutes each school day(add another hour or so if he decided to pull out his CD player at home). May didn’t mind it, the song made Peter happy. She glanced at him in the rearview mirror and saw that he was absently singing, swaying to the beat as he ran his fingers up and down along the edge of his seatbelt. She smiled softly to herself.
Dropping Peter off at school was another area of hardship, mostly because May found it so difficult not to scoop Peter up and bring him back home with her. Peter’s hand held hers like a lifeline on the way to his classroom, and when they arrived, his teacher leaned down so she could be face-to-face with him, and Peter looked down to examine his shoelaces.
“Good morning, Peter! You ready to have another amazing day?” Said Mrs. Johnson in a sing-song voice. Peter hummed in the positive and raised his head to look at his aunt, which she took as a sign to bend down and engulf him in a bear hug. When she pulled away to look at her boy’s face, his bottom lip was wobbling and his eyes gleamed with unshed tears.
“Hey,” May said in a gentle voice, “I’ll see you this afternoon, baby. Smile big in your pictures for me?” Peter nodded. “Love you, May.” He mumbled, wiping tears away as he stepped foot into his classroom, his backpack strap tight in his fist. May stands up again and sighs, meeting Mrs. Johnson’s gaze. “Does he have any fun after I leave?” She asks, somewhat desperately. The teacher smiled kindly and seemed to be choosing her words carefully.
“He’s. . . anxious. Really creative, though. I think he’ll improve as the year continues.” May thanked her even though her words didn’t really bring any comfort.
The ride back home was spent deep in thought. About Peter, who could not make dinner table conversation for the life of him, but could chatter for minutes about how Ironman’s suit worked. About Peter, reduced to tears by the ambience of a restaurant. About Peter, who felt happiness so intensely she thought he might explode with it.
May Parker was at a loss even by the time she pulled into the apartment complex. She supposed that other children could be exactly like Peter: it wasn’t like she had much experience in the children’s department anyway. The only references she had were other parents, who somehow made it all seem so easy.
What was she doing wrong?
Was she a bad guardian?
Why was this so hard?
May entered their little apartment again, finding it empty and peaceful. Morning light shone through the linen curtains and she opened them, finding the familiar, fantastic view of the city below. She went to Peter’s room and turned the brown noise off before opening his curtains as well, and then pulled his Star Wars comforter neatly over his mattress.
After tidying his toys, she decided it was time for her to get to work. Before Peter, May was a nurse at a small local hospital; but she quit that job so that she could find a remote opportunity.
(A.N. I have absolutely no idea what remote nursing jobs she could find in 2007 but as Peter said in NWH their tech is advanced. I’m rolling with it.)
About ten minutes to noon, May’s phone began to ring. It was Peter’s school. Oh no. What happened? She picked up, pressing the phone to her ear.
”Hi, is this Ms. May Parker?” The secretary asked, sounding as if she was reading her name off of Peter’s contacts.
”Hi, yes. This is she. Is Peter okay?” May answered frantically.
”He’s okay, physically at least. He’s staying in the counselor’s office right now, and she thinks he’s going to be too upset to head back to class today. Are you available to come pick him up?”
May stood up and grabbed her purse immediately, heading toward the door.
”I’ll be there in a few minutes. What happened?”
The secretary paused. “I don’t know, ma’am.”
May really tried not to be a reckless driver on the way to Peter's elementary school, but she couldn’t help laying on her horn when a car took too long at a stoplight, and tailgating whatever poor person was in front of her. When Peter was on the line, nothing else mattered. She pulled up to the school and clambered out of the car, hair askew and nearly tripping over her own feet in the hurry to get to her child. She burst into the secretary’s office, her shoes clacking on the tile floor. The secretary, who was a tall, pale woman with curly hair tied in a knot at the back of her head, said immediately: “You must be Peter’s mom,”
“Ye—es,” May stammered, realizing what the lady called her, but then shook it off. “Where’s my kid?”
”He’ll be right down that hall, first door on the left.” May smiled briefly in thanks, and the secretary flashed a kind grin back at her. But the sound of Peter’s sobs wiped that relief right off May’s face. She knocked as gently as possible and opened the door. She instantly spotted her boy, who squatted behind a potted plant in the far corner of the room. His arms wrapped around his head, covering his eyes and ears, his cheeks were splotchy and red and wet with tears. Every time May saw him cry, her heart broke a bit. The counselor sat at her desk, completely ignoring Peter and reading a book. May cleared her throat(somewhat passive-aggressively) to get her attention.
The counselor’s head snapped up to look at her. She was an older woman, with dark, graying hair and a wrinkly face. “Oh good, you’re here. Peter, mom’s here to pick you up, time to go.” The little boy’s sobs did not subside, Peter didn’t process what was said.
”Is anyone going to tell me what the hell happened here?” May said, fire licking at her insides.
”He’s having a tantrum, I couldn’t get him to tell me what’s wrong.” The lady shrugged. ”Best to just ignore him, he’ll learn he doesn’t always get what he wants. Had to tape the light switch, he kept turning it off while I was trying to work.”
”I’m sorry? Have you been ignoring my kid while he’s like this? You know anything about him? No? I’ll let you in on some things. I’m Peter’s aunt, actually. Both his parents were killed in a car crash eleven months ago. He’s also really sensitive to things, like lights. I’m just saying, it might have helped him calm down if you actually paid attention to what he needed when he was trying to communicate with you.”
The words rushed from her like venom, and she didn’t wait for the counselor’s reaction before going to Peter and scooping him up as gently as possible. Tears and snot began to cover her shirt, but she didn’t care. She paused at the doorway, holding Peter with one arm. With the other, she tore the tape of the light switch and flipped them off before exiting the room. (A.N. We love May)
May signed Peter out at the secretary’s desk, flashed her a half smile, and carried him to the car. His forehead rested on her shoulder so that tears soaked her shirt, and she could feel his breathing, which was much too fast. She wondered briefly if he was having a panic attack. She set him in his booster seat and attempted to buckle him in, but Peter only cried harder, mumbling, “No, no, no, off,” May stopped trying to get the seatbelt buckled and turned her attention fully on him.
”Pete, you have to wear a seatbelt to be safe. How can I make it more comfy?”
Peter responded by tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Off,” he said, voice quavering. Oh, yeah! His clothes are itchy. Thought May, and she looked around desperately until she saw a throw blanket on the floorboard, which Peter sometimes uses on car trips.
“Okay, baby. Itchy clothes are coming off.” She unbuttoned his shirt and pants, and, making sure to stand directly in front of him so no one could see, helped him shrug off the clothes before wrapping him tightly in the blanket so the seatbelt wouldn’t rub against his skin.
On the way home, Peter’s sobbing subsided into quiet tears and sniffling, and he went into May’s arms without hesitation when they got to their apartment complex. Carrying a swaddled six-year-old warranted a few odd looks from neighbors, but May didn’t give them the time of day. She switched to holding Peter with one arm again to unlock the door, and waddled into the apartment for the second time that day. She set her boy down on the couch and drew the curtains so that the room was dark and quiet, a safe space. Then she walked back to the couch, finding Peter curled into a ball under his blanket, chewing on his thumb. His tears had dried up, but his eyes were exhausted and red.
”Hey, baby. You wanna tell me what happened?” May asked, thumbing at his eyebrow. Peter hesitated, seemingly not able to find the words. His face scrunched up again and a whining sound came from his throat, and May felt bad. She hadn’t meant to upset him again. “Hey, shhh, it’s okay, Pete. Later, okay?” The little boy relaxed. “Do you want to stay here or lay in your bed, baby?” May asked quietly.
”Here,” responded Peter, his little voice gravelly from crying.
”You want a movie, tough guy?”
Peter nodded vigorously, and so May picked out his favorite from their collection of DVDs, which at the time was Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. After the Star Wars theme song started to play at a low volume, May went back to sit at the end of the couch, next to Peter. She tried hard not to fall asleep, she really did, but the room was dark and cozy, and the quiet sounds of the movie lulled her until her eyes drooped. She woke up to Peter shaking her arm, whispering, “Aunt May, Aunt May, May, Ben’s home!”
May’s eyes squinted open. The end credits of the movie were playing, and Ben Parker was closing the apartment door as quietly as he could, glancing around at the dark room. Peter jumped up, practically hopping to his uncle in his underwear, shaking his little fists happily.
”Hi, Uncle Ben! We watched Star Wars! You missed it!” Peter exclaimed, reaching his arms up to him. Ben bent down to pick him up. “I did? Aw Man, how come Aunt May got to watch it with you and not me?” Ben asked, smiling at his nephew. Peter giggled. “Because you weren’t here!” May watched the interaction fondly. Leave it to Star Wars to make him happy again.
She never imagined that this life would be hers, that she and Ben would have a six-year-old to look after together. But now, she doesn’t know what she would do without her boy. As she thought it, his bright brown eyes turned to her.
”May, it’s popsicle day! Can we go, please?” Peter asked excitedly. May laughed. “Yeah, we can go, Pete. But not in your underwear.”
Peter belly-laughed, before taking off down the hall, screaming “Catch me!”
May was on her feet immediately, yelling after him. “You better run! You can’t escape me!” She called, fully intending to pretend to not be able to get him.
Life was wildly unpredictable and wonderful. She and Ben decided against having children, but the universe thrust Peter into their arms anyway, and it did not make a mistake when doing so. May’s life had never felt more full, and she knew that Peter was safe, happy, and loved unconditionally with her and Ben.
It was hard, yes. It was so hard to see Peter struggle when they just want him to be happy, it was hard to understand him and what he needed at times, but they always figured it out.
And as she chased Peter around in his underpants, laughing so hard that her stomach hurt, she knew. We’ve got this.