How'd You Get This Number? // mamaspider

4 - welcome to the group chat

*CAW CAW has created a group chat with Spy*

CAW CAW
hello

Peter
what is this

CAW CAW
I figured that since spy already knows I messaged you then a group chat was our only option

Spy
This is a horrible idea

Peter
this is a wonderful idea :D

CAW CAW
how was escuelando peter

Peter
It's escuela
and it was good

CAW CAW
im pretty sure it's escuelando
I took Spanish my freshman year so ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Peter
1) that emoticon is just slightly different than it's supposed to be and I hate it
2) i'm in ap spanspan my dood

Spy
AP Spanish? Wowowo

CAW CAW
we have an Einstein on our hands ladies and gentlemen

Peter
hey brb I'm bouta exuent the outdoors and enter the abode in which I reside

CAW CAW
You mean go inside ? 😂

Spy
why are you saying bye if you're just walking inside your house?

...

CAW CAW
he's already gone nat

Spy
yes Clint
yes he is

____

I think one of my least favorite parts of my day is going home. I just hate to see May like she always is.

May never recovered after Ben's death. She's still my aunt, she still tries her hardest...but she isn't quite normal, I guess? Then again, I am part spider, so who really gets to define the word 'normal' here?

When I walk in, I see May leaning forwards against the countertop, a glass of wine in hand. She's staring down at a picture. I don't even need to see the picture to know what's in it.

"You miss him." I state, rather than question. The fact that she's having wine at 3 in the afternoon is a little disconcerting, first of all. But it's not unexpected.

Now, do not get me wrong—May is not an alcoholic, okay? She just has things she needs to work through and I guess alcohol helps her do that...?

"I do." She murmurs and takes another sip of her white Chardonnay. Ever since I was bitten by that radioactive spider, my senses had been constantly dialed up to, lik, 17 bajillion. I've generally learned how to handle the intense feelings, sounds, tastes—whatever. But the one smell that my enhanced senses are not able to handle is alcohol. It either sends me vomiting all over everything within a 4 foot radius or I end up doubled over with a sensory overload. And hate to say it, but the entire apartment reeks of alcohol. It has since the day Ben died. Whether it be 5 glasses or just 1, May has a drink everyday. Coming home is sensory suicide for me.

I've never told May this, of course, because alcohol seems to help her cope with Ben being gone. I know he died a little over 3 years ago, so it's been a while, but I mean people grieve in their own ways, right?