𝒱𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝓊𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓃𝑜𝓋𝒶 - 𝒢𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉~𝒮𝓅𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇

〖IV〗

"Do you think that being a superhero is worth the fame?"

"I'm not sure Mark, I think it surely has its ups and downs. I feel that, superhero or not, with fame you risk a lot of things."

"Hmm an interesting response coming from you Spider-Woman, as we wrap up this interview, is there anything you would like to say to our audience tonight?"

"Remember that you don't have to have superhuman powers to be a hero and goodnight!"

Seeing her on TV versus in person was so foreign, the small flatscreen made her seem more confident. Or maybe that's how she chose to appear on television? The following afternoon she broke into my apartment she left me a note with some money attached, I hadn't even noticed her enter despite being home all day. The note apologized for the intrusion and the damage done to my property, in addition to her mentioning she spoke to the owner of the apartment complex. I should use Ghost Spider as an excuse more often since Mr. Willis offered to pay for the entire extent of expenses. But she still felt bad for breaking my window and believed she nonetheless owed me some money. I sifted through the cash, counting the total. There were a few hundred dollars, meaning I could have a few good meals the next week.

This was incredibly generous of her, but considering she might be rich this might have not been a big feat for her. I felt the least I could do is go the extra mile in supporting her as a person, and not as a fangirl.

The following morning went as usual, I got up and left for classes. Columbia is one of the top colleges in New York and I learn there, what a privilege. It was frosty as usual at this time in New York, with snow everywhere you looked and fifty accidents on some of the main roads: Classic New York, but good coffee.

"The usual please," I asked, watching the new barista insert my order into the machine.

"Two eighty-three." She said as I slid my credit card into the reader, getting accepted, and removing it. Only moments later my peppermint mocha slid across the counter. As I picked it up, I realized there were marks on the sleeve of the cup. I turned the cup to admire the black Sharpie drawn across the cardboard, reading the message that wasn't thoroughly planned out. I glanced at the barista, then back at the cup.

"Meet me at the window."

- ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️ Ghost

There was a space between the dash and Ghost that was plainly written over, and or blacked out, like someone who put down the wrong name.

After classes I found myself wandering back over to my apartment, I wasn't given a time for the window appointment I had with her. So loitering seemed to be the reasonable thing, and later typing up that paper I was working on for one of my classes. Well, typing was an exaggeration. I was instead staring at a blank white document, watching the mouse subtly blink. Just waiting for me to input a single character into the program, but I didn't. I sat mindlessly, at a loss. My computer started to die before my eyes, the battery slowly slipping away each time the mouse blinked.

At around five o'clock, my phone started vibrating aggressively, it was as if my Mom was yelling at me to pick up the phone. Which I did, sliding the phone near my ear. My eyes didn't move from the blank screen.

"¡Hola Vivian! ¿Cómo está mi hija favorita hoy? ¿Estás disfrutando del nuevo apartamento?"

("Hello Vivian! How is my favorite daughter doing today? Are you enjoying the new apartment?")

The same excited tone she had with every call had once again presented itself, but something was different. Something was off, she always tries to hide the techniques in her voice and always fails.

"Ambos sabemos que no soy tu hija favorita, y sí, el apartamento me parece encantador, por decir lo menos."

("We both know I'm not your favorite daughter, and yes, I find the apartment lovely, to say the least.")

My accent was almost always present whenever I spoke Spanish, with the occasional few hiccups.

"¡Eso es genial! Hablando de tu apartamento, me preguntaba si podríamos venir por Navidad y echarle in vistazo. Después de todo, lo estamos pagando."

("That's great! Speaking of your apartment, I was wondering if we could come in for Christmas and check it out. After all, we are paying for it.")

Shit. I was expecting this after all, but with everything going on, I've entirely disregarded my family's yearly Christmas party. That included decorating and shopping, and this self-invite meant I would have to be here before they showed up. But I can never say no to my mother. The last time I said no to my mother, it didn't go as planned.

"Sí, está bien. Puede que tengo que limpiar un poco, pero está bien. ¿Cuántas personas estarían aquí? ¿Y a qué hora?" ("Yes, it's good. I may have to clean up a bit, but that's okay. How many people would be here? And what time?") I asked, to judge how much horror I would be in, and how much work I would have to do.

"Probablemente Nochebuena, pasaremos la noche en un hotel. Lo más probable es que yo, tu padre, tus hermanas, mi hermana y mi hermano, sus hijos. ¿Así que quince personas?" ("Probably Christmas Eve, we will spend the night in a hotel. Most likely me, your father, your sisters, my sister and my brother, their children. So fifteen people?") My mother said. She seemed pretty unsure of how many people total.

Fifteen people? Was she serious? My mother was consistently bad with estimates, so fifteen people meant thirty. I spun around in my chair, looking out the window, secretly hoping she was there. She was not, instead, I was staring at the apartment complex next to mine. I crossed my legs, unwinding somewhat in my office chair from IKEA.

"Suena manejable." (Sounds manageable) I lied between my teeth, thirty people in this apartment are tightly packed. I can see it now, and I see pain.

"Gracias Vivian, estoy seguro de que puedes manejarlo. Tienes dos meses, no tengo dudas sobre ti. Esta es una lección valiosa, para cuando realmente comienzas a organizar fiestas en ese apartamento como lo hacen los estudiantes universitarios normales".

("Thanks Vivian, I'm sure you can handle it. You have two months, I have no doubts about you. This is a valuable lesson, for when you really start hosting parties in that apartment like regular college students do.")

"Gracias por el recordatorio, mamá. Ahora tengo que irme, tengo cosas que hacer hoy. Dile a papá que le dije hola, te quiero, madre."

("Thanks for the reminder, Mom. Now I have to go, I have things to do today. Tell Dad I said hello, I love you, mother.")

I hung up the phone, turned off my computer, and sighed.

My mother would never be nervous about Christmas, so what was she worried about at the beginning of our call?