The Tangled Web | Peter Parker

Chapter 9

The next two weeks went by in a blur. It felt like I was stumbling through each hour, not consciously processing anything that was happening. My mind was on autopilot, numb to my feelings, and going through the motions without thought. Most of my time consisted of helping May tie up loose ends. I vaguely remember making calls, sitting on hold, and waiting impatiently for a human to pick up the phone to help change accounts into May's name. Somewhere amid the phone calls, paperwork, and tears, we made arrangements for Ben's funeral. May and I planned a small, intimate ceremony that we would be attending later today.

The two of us spent almost every waking hour in communication, making sure the other had showered and had enough to eat for the day. It was easier to take care of someone else rather than focus on the immense pain we were both feeling.

Mom had stopped by one morning before her shift at work, giving May her condolences. She tried to talk to me about Ben's passing, but I wasn't receptive to the conversation. Reflecting back, I probably could have been a lot nicer about it. I know it isn't her fault that she's always working, but she's never around. We aren't exactly what one would call close.

Ever since my dad left when I was six, it's just been us. With the challenges of being a newly single parent and adjusting to only having a single household income, she had to pick up a lot of extra shifts, often working overnights at the hospital. This resulted in her having to rely on the kind hearts of our neighbors to watch me while she was away. Sometimes, it truly does take a village.

Over the last eleven years, I had spent the majority of my time with the Parker family. May was like a mother to me. She had been with me through so many of life's milestones, which is why I felt the need to stay by her side and help her through one of hers. And Ben, he was the closest thing I had to a father. I know the two of them struggled over the years, trying to find a balance between being an authority figure, parent, and friend for both Peter and me. They tried their best. For what it's worth, I think they did a good job.

Despite our last interaction, I tried to not hold any negative feelings toward Peter. I kept reminding myself of May's words, that grief shows up in different ways and that he just needed space to work through his emotions. It didn't mean it made it any easier on either of us. He was so withdrawn from everyone lately, sneaking out every night to god knows where. Probably to see Gwen if I had to make a guess. The two of them had been spending a lot of time with one another.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't pain me to see the two of them together, happy. It's not like I could be mad at him for it though. Gwen was amazing; she was one of the kindest people I knew. It hurt that he wasn't accepting my attempts to comfort him, but I was glad he was at least allowing someone in. Knowing that he was with someone else was painful. For over half our lives, it had always just been the two of us. Sure there were other friends, but they came and went. The one constant thing in our lives was each other.

I knew I couldn't exactly rely on Peter for any sense of emotional support right now. He was doing his own thing. He was allowed to have a life outside of me and our friendship. It was weird to see him with someone else though. I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about it. Honestly, I tried to not think about it, not knowing how much more hurt my heart could take. Besides, I had Flash, right?

We ended up postponing our date to another time. We hadn't rescheduled or put anything on the calendar, knowing we would eventually go out. He was respectful about the whole situation, not wanting to push me until I was ready. It was sort of like this unspoken thing between us, this mutual understanding that we were both interested in pursuing things together. Every night he would show up outside of The Bugle to walk me home. Sometimes we talked about events from the day, sometimes we walked in comfortable silence.