Spider Woman: Origin

Spider-Woman: Reminisce

My fingers grazed the leather binding of the photo album resting on the coffee table, tracing the intricate patterns along the spine. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and reached for a tissue, my throat tight and my nose stuffed. My mother nudged the tissue box closer, a silent gesture of support.

"Thank you," I muttered, sniffling as I wiped my eyes.

The three of us sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, the air heavy with both grief and warmth. We had decided to browse through the family photo album together, a way to remember what was lost.

Jordyn let out a snicker, drawing my attention. I turned to find her peering at a picture of us dressed as a hotdog and fries for Halloween, me at ten and her at five. The memory tugged at my lips, and I couldn't help but laugh despite the hollow ache in my chest.

"Who came up with those costumes?" Jordyn wondered, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"Hotdog and fries—name a better duo," I challenged, unable to keep a straight face. We exchanged playful glares before laughter erupted between us, filling the space where sadness had lingered.

As the laughter faded, our gazes returned to the album. Each page turned was a window into our family dynamic, with my father's burly figure dominating most of the photos. I tried to conjure the sound of his voice, the warmth of his laughter, but the memories slipped through my fingers like sand. Frustration welled up in me, and I focused on something else.

I flipped the page, recalling his awful jokes and corny puns, the way he would lean in close, eyes twinkling, as if waiting for our groans to turn into laughter. He was my dad—my best friend, always kind, always there.

With each photo, we shared memories—family trips, lazy Sundays, the little moments that stitched our lives together. We laughed until our sides hurt and wiped away tears of joy, cherishing the life we had shared with such a remarkable man. Grief was inevitable, but I was determined to honor him by remembering him as he was.

The last page revealed a photo from my seventeenth birthday dinner, a vibrant snapshot of happiness. My father towered over us, pointing at me with a mock glare, while my mother looked at him, oblivious to the bunny ears Jordyn had created behind her head. I was grinning, eyes squeezed shut in joy. My heart stilled as I realized this was the last time we were truly together as a family.

A lump formed in my throat, and I struggled to swallow. Tears brimmed my eyes. "I miss him," I choked out. The moment those words escaped, the floodgates opened. My mother and Jordyn quickly wrapped their arms around me, their embrace a lifeline in the swirling sea of grief.

I cried freely, allowing the emotions to wash over me, unfiltered and raw. My mother didn't try to hush me; instead, she held me tighter, offering silent comfort. Time blurred as we sat there, only the soft sounds of sniffles punctuating the stillness, the tissue box beside us nearly empty.

Eventually, the tears subsided, leaving a quiet heaviness in their wake. My mother leaned forward, her eyes lingering on the last photo we had shared. "Maybe this shouldn't be in here," she suggested, her fingers brushing the edge of the album.

"No," I interjected. "That day was a good day. I want to remember it for what it was—our last happy moment together." My gaze met hers, and I saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

She closed the album, the words The Drew Family embossed on the front cover. I stared at it, my heart heavy with the weight of the past few years.

"Are we going to be okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

My mother wiped away the tears on her cheeks and nodded firmly. "We're going to be just fine."

Jordyn added, "There isn't a day that goes by where I don't miss him, but it gets easier. Now there are three of us to lean on each other." A small smile broke through her sadness.

I sighed, pondering her words. It had been two years since my father's death, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had missed so much. I returned thinking I'd find the same family I left behind, but everything felt shattered.

"What about school?" I blurted out suddenly, the thought striking me. My mind flashed back to my old life before everything changed.

Jordyn chuckled beside me. "Didn't peg you for someone eager to go back to school."

I grimaced, waving off her comment. "Trust me, I'm far from eager." Leaning back into the couch, I noticed my mother lost in thought, her eyes distant.

"Do you have the pamphlet?" she asked suddenly.

Jordyn nodded, rising to retrieve it. I watched curiously as she left the room, then turned back to my mother, who returned to her spot with the photo album, fingers tapping thoughtfully against its spine.

"One thing that helped me was returning to our normal routine," she said, her voice steady. "Stability is necessary for coping. I think you should consider going back to school in a couple of days."

I frowned at the idea, dreading the thought of suppressing my emotions all day or pretending everything was fine when it wasn't.

My mom cupped my cheek gently, her expression serious. "I want school to be your distraction, but I don't mean for you to ignore your feelings. Be honest about what you're experiencing, and reach out to Jordyn or me when you need to."

I held her gaze, her sincerity washing over me. Instead of arguing, I nodded, though inside I felt a storm brewing.

My mother enveloped me in a hug, the warmth wrapping around me like a shield. "I love you, Jessica."

My heart leapt at her words, the first time I had heard them since returning. I never thought I'd have this moment again. I wrapped my arms around her tightly, absorbing the love that surrounded us. "I love you, too."

Footsteps echoed in the quiet room as we pulled away. I turned to see Jordyn returning, a pamphlet in hand, her expression a mix of excitement and determination.

"Before you say no, at least consider it, okay?" Jordyn urged, extending the pamphlet toward me.

I took it, glancing at the cover: Midtown School of Science and Technology. Inside were images of happy teens engaged in various STEM activities. I hesitated, flipping through the pages, scanning the information.

"This is in Queens," I noted, trying to dismiss it.

"It's only a twenty-five-minute subway ride," Jordyn declared, a hint of victory in her tone.

I blinked, processing her words. "Wait, you go here?"

Her lips curved into a smile. "Since a year ago."

I glanced back at the pamphlet, anxiety gnawing at me. Meeting new people felt daunting, and the thought of standing out in a school focused on science and technology made me cringe.

"Think about it," Jordyn urged. "And don't say anything about being too dumb. You're smarter than you think."

It was unsettling how well she seemed to read my mind.

"Agree to tour the school and then decide," my mother encouraged.

I groaned, shifting between the two of them as they watched me expectantly. I was ready to resist when an idea struck me. "If it's been five years, then I'm technically twenty-two. Shouldn't I be applying for college—"

"You look twelve," Jordyn quipped, laughing. "No one's admitting an infant into their institution of higher education."

I feigned hurt at her words while chuckling along. The thought of college faded as I looked back at the pamphlet. Maybe a fresh start was just what I needed.

"I'll tour the school," I declared, surprising myself.

My mother's face lit up with a smile, and Jordyn jumped for joy, enveloping me in a tight hug. "They won't be able to handle the Drew crew!"

"Just a tour," I reminded her, though I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

She broke away, bolting from the room. "I have to tell my friends!" she shouted, leaving me to share a bemused look with my mother.

"Wait, she has friends?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.