Webs In Ink

I had never been faced with a dead loved one or a dead pet before. So, grief never came easy to me. Not in books. Not in movies. It was something that was sad, but never something I truly got to experience first hand. It was almost like this taboo thing in my life. My dad never kept it away from me, but we never talked about it.

So when we found out Ben had died, I didn’t know what to think. Especially if Peter was there. I had never seen May so distraught. She dropped the phone and clung to me like a koala. I didn’t know what to do and it took me by so much surprise that we ended up falling to the floor together. I just held her as she cried, far too stunned to truly understand what was happening.

When the police officers came to drop off Peter and talk to May, I helped her up off the floor and into a stable spot at the dining table. Peter was silent when he walked through the door and his hands were covered in blood. The first thing I could think to do was to hug him but he beat me to it.

I felt my heart break even more when his body started shaking from his silent sobs. My own tears started falling when he started whispering how it was his fault. He was almost inconsolable with how tight he squeezed me. The only thing I could do was rub his back, run my hand through his hair and tell him it wasn’t his fault. There was nothing that he could’ve done to save him. It was just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When the police officer was done talking to May, he showed her the sketch of the man that killed Ben. Peter and I had moved to stand nearer to his aunt. He leaned on the entryway into the dining room and I held his hand, resting my head against his shoulder.

“Hey, can I have that?” Peter asked the officer as he began to leave. The officer nodded and handed him the sketch of the suspect.

“Theres one other thing. He has a star tattooed on his left hand,” The officer said before walking out of the house. Peter and I looked at the sketch numbly. Then, I took note of the dried blood still on his hands.

He looked up as May put her hands in her face and silently started crying harder. I pursed my lips, letting go of Peter and walking over to May. I wrapped my arms around her shaking body, feeling her begin to cry harder at my comfort. I sighed, trying to suppress more tears from falling.

I felt another set of arms fall over me. I felt Peter’s face fall into the crook of my neck, his tears dripping onto me and soaking my shirt. That’s when I finally realized the weight of the situation. In Between my best friend and his aunt, consoling them after the death of his uncle. The only father figure in his life. And I was their only rock right now.

I had to just pretend like I had the modicum of strength for them right then. But in reality, I didn’t. I was just as distraught as them. And I wasn’t sure how I was even able to keep it together, but I did. And that was all that mattered.

I’m not sure how long we sat there, but we pulled away when they had finally calmed down. Peter wiped his eyes and his gaze lingered on my shoulder. May sniffled a few times, getting up from the dining table.

“Do you want me to get something for you?” I asked her softly. She shook her head slowly. I turned to Peter and nodded as to ask the same question. He shook his head and crossed his arms.

“No, sweetheart, thank you… I’m just… tired,” She said, sniffling again.

I nodded, reaching to grab a hold of her arm. “Let me take you upstairs.”

She nodded and let me begin guide her upstairs. I glanced back at Peter and he nodded to me with his lips pursed. I bit my bottom lip as I brought May upstairs and helped her slowly shuffle to bed.

When I finished tucking her into bed, I went to go turn off the lights. But when I was about to, she stopped me. I turned to her worriedly before she leaned over and turned on the lamp on her nightstand. Then she nodded and I turned off the light, leaving the room.

I looked into Peter’s room to see if he had decided to join us upstairs. When I didn’t see him in there, I quietly made my way downstairs. I looked into the dining room, noticing Peter looking at the sketch angrily. His hands were still covered in blood.

I called out his name cautiously. “Peter?” He looked up at me, tears starting to well up in his eyes again.

“This is my fault, AJ…” He said quietly. I sighed, beginning to shake my head. “No, it is! I could’ve done something to stop it. I really could’ve…but instead, I was too bitter to help the stupid store clerk.”

“Don’t do that,” I pursed my lips as I shook my head at him. “You can’t blame yourself for this. Look, you didn’t pull that trigger. That man did.” I pointed at the sketch. “It isn’t your fault he went out to find you, he decided that himself. Did you tell that man to run out there and kill your uncle?”

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the sketch. I continued, “So, get that terrible idea out of your head. He wouldn’t want you to think that way…”

“I can’t believe he’s dead,” Peter said quietly. Setting the sketch on the table. He glanced over at me. “I just… I saw…”

“I know, Peter.” I consoled, stepping closer to him and wrapping my arms around him. He hugged me tightly again, breathing deeply into my neck and letting them go as shaking breaths. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I walked with Peter up the stairs and into the bathroom. I grabbed a washcloth from the closet in the hallway, bringing it back to get it wet and help Peter get the blood off his hands. He looked numbly at the shower curtain as I ran the cloth over his hands repeatedly. It was a cycle of wiping as much off as I could, running it under the water to wash it off. Once his hands were clean, I noticed the smeared blood on his jaw.

I reached up with the cloth and gently wiped it twice to get the dried, bright red colour off his face. His darted up, the change in his expression causing me to actually look at his face. He was looking at me now, his eyes were devastated and pensive. Two emotions I had never really seen on him before. My hand froze and my eyes darted between his eyes.

“I love you,” he said, catching me off guard. “I really do. I'm sorry I made you get Aunt May. I should've been there…”

“You didn't make me do anything,” I told him softly. He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning down to touch his forehead to mine. I scolded myself for getting butterflies in that moment. But his proximity was too unexpected.

“Still…” He whispered. “I should’ve been there…”

“But you weren’t. And we are not blaming you,” I responded, hesitating for a moment. I closed my eyes as well. “And…Ben wouldn’t blame you either.”

I felt Peter let out a heavy breath. The breath fanned out over my face and I didn’t say anything. I just let ourselves exist there. It seemed like that was what we needed.

School the following day was just as hard to get through. Everyone was whispering when we walked down the hallway, looking at us weird. And when Peter and I went different ways, they had to courage to come up to me and ask what happened. Never if Peter was okay. Never if I was okay.

The few times through the day when Peter and I were able to meet up, we didn’t say anything to each other. We just sat together in silence. Peter didn’t even seem to be present, emotionally. His face was stone cold the whole time and I sat there silently, letting him start the conversation if he wanted. He never did.

“Okay, you need to email me,” Mr. Kwasnicka said as he pulled out hs lunch from the bottom drawer of his desk. A tupperware with salad. I was surprised that a sixty year old would still want to eat salads.

“But yesterday you said you wanted me to come and talk to you after class,” I recounted to him. He paused for a moment and presumably thought back to yesterday. My shoulders sagged as this went on for longer than ten seconds. “Look, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll email you.”

“Alright, Alina,” He said, nodding as he pulled the lid off the tupperware container. I looked at the salad strangely when I realized it was only lettuce and spinach. Somehow he had managed to make a salad look dry. “See you tomorrow.”

I nodded, “Yup,” and turned to leave the room. But just as I was about to walk out, Mr. Kwas stopped me again.

“Oh, Alina,” I turned and looked at him inquisitively. “Send my condolences to your boyfriend. Peter, was it?”

“Oh… of course. But he’s not my boyfriend,” I said awkwardly. Mr. Kwas made a face of confusion. I expected him to say something, ask a follow-up question but he didn’t. “Alright, Mr. Kwas, see you tomorrow.”

I walked out of the class, not hearing him say anything back to me. I huffed as I took the route to my locker. It was the short way if you’re coming from Kwas’ class but the long way if you’re in any other part of the school.

Walking through the halls was almost impossible without people looking at me. I just put in my earbuds and blasted my music as I made my way through the school. As I walked through that part of the school, I was reminded of how long I had truly been at this school. It felt like decades at this point and I was so glad it was finally my senior year. I could get out of here and never look back.

I turned the corner to the hallway with my locker and saw Peter hugging Gwen. I slowed my steps and then I realized his arms were at his sides awkwardly. Peter made eye contact with me and pushed out of Gwen's arms. He sped walked over to me and threw hs arms around me. I was taken aback but nonetheless reciprocated to hug.

“Can we go,” He whispered shakily from the crook of my neck. I nodded and he pulled away, quickly grabbing my hand and began pulling me away from the hallway.

“Wait, I need to get my textbooks,” I told him before we could make it far. He turned around and looked behind me into the hallway. His eyes were red and welling up with tears. “Actually, it’s fine, let’s go.”

“No… I’ll meet you on the bleachers.” He said, not waiting for me to say anything back. I watched him walk away for a second before quickly walking to my locker. I noticed Flash a few feet away watching me strangely.

I ignored the feeling of people watching me and grabbed out my journalism binder, replacing it with my Physics textbook. I looked at the locker for anything else I needed and closed it. I zipped up my bag and thew it over my shoulder, pivoting towards the exit. When I turned, I saw Gwen standing a few feet away. I waited for her to say something but when she didn’t, I simply greeted her with a nod and moved past her.

As I made my way out to the bleachers, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw it was my dad calling.

“Hello?” I answered, swerving past people.

“Hey, I just landed, the bikes at Pete’s house, right?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah, but you should call May first.” I confirmed as I reached the field. “You shouldn’t just come unannounced after… last night.”

“What happened last night?” He asked as I heard a car door close in the background.

“Oh, right…” I sighed, remembering how I held Peter as he shed silent tears throughout the night. I couldn’t believe he was even up to going to school. “Uncle Ben…he died.”

“What?” My dad asked in disbelief. “How?”

“He was shot,” I recalled from what Peter and the police officers told us. “Look, it’s a long story. Peter still came to school, so I’m just tryna help him get through the day.”

“He did? I’m so sorry, baby,” He said lowly as to console me. “You’re a good friend…I’ll see you later at their house.”

I sighed, spotting Peter on one of the top benches of the bleachers. His hood was pulled over his head and he had his feet up on the row of seats below him. “Okay, love you.”

“Love you more, baby.” He said back before I hung up the phone and started making my way up the bleachers.

I walked through the rows of the bleachers, finally meeting Peter. I sat down next to him and he silently placed his head on my shoulder. I gently rested my head on his and he reached between us and grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together.

“Flash told me he was sorry,” Peter said after a while of sitting there in silence. My eyebrows furrowed at the idea of him actually saying something. “I know… I thought he was gonna be an asshole like always, but he didn’t.”

I hummed in thought, “I didn’t think he had it in him,” Peter hummed this time. “Maybe that’s why he was looking at me weird when I went to my locker.”

Right when I thought that was the end of the conversation, Peter spoke again. “I can’t stop seeing it. Every time I close my eyes… I just see him .” I squeezed his hand as his voice wavered a few times. “It’s all I can think about. I don’t even know if I can get that image out of my head. Or if I ever will…”

I felt my heart ache for him. I couldn’t imagine seeing the person who was practically your father, die. The pain of losing someone and feeling the guilt that you could have done something. How was I supposed to comfort that?

“I’m really sorry this happened, Peter,” I said quietly. He didn’t respond. “You know I’m here for you. Whether it’s to distract you or to give you really shitty advice,” He laughed a little at that. “Or just to listen and cry with you… You’re my best friend and, really, I’ll never leave your side.”

Peter sniffled and I felt a warm tear fall onto my shoulder. He let go of my hand and lifted his head off my shoulder. I examined his face, taking note of the redness around his eyes and nose. His eyes were puffy as well and his mouth was in a frown. I couldn’t help but want to hug him.

Peter and I walked into his house quietly, seeing my dad and Aunt May sitting at the dining table. My dad smiled at me as I walked over to him. I heard Peter walk up the stairs silently as I hugged my dad.

“Hey, baby,” My dad said quietly, pulling away from the hug. “Go get your stuff, I'm just gonna talk to May a bit more.”

I nodded, smiling at May before taking myself upstairs. I walked into Peter’s room and saw him sitting at his desk, looking down at the police sketch. He didn't look up at me as I pulled my suitcase out of his closet and started tryna find any clothes I missed.

“Stop beating yourself up,” I said, zipping up my suitcase. Peter shook his head before setting down the piece of paper and looking over at me. I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I rested my chin on his shoulder. “Do you want me to stay with you a bit longer?”

I felt him shake his head, holding onto my wrists. “It's okay, you should… you should go with your dad.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, pulling away and looking at his face. “I don't think he'd mind if I stayed a little longer.”

He shook his head, squeezing my wrists. I let him play with my hands, squeezing and rubbing at my skin. He ran his thumb over the deep scar on my knuckle that ran over the back of my hand, right above my wrist.

It formed when we were kids and Peter had dropped something through the stairs of the basement. Him and Harry convinced me to reach through and on the way out, my hand got caught on a protruding nail. The image of them freaking out while I cried is one I can never forget.

At that moment, it only made me cry more, but now, it's really just funny. Peter couldn't stop apologizing for the next week for not getting it himself. And Harry didn't stop blaming Peter for the month, making Peter get things for him when the chance arose.

“I’ll be fine…” Peter finally said, letting go of my wrists. He turned with his chair and hugged me. I hugged him back in the awkward position. He pulled away and nodded. “I just need to think.”

I watched him carefully as I nodded and reached for my suitcase. “Okay… I’ll see you at school?”

“Yeah,” He nodded. “I’ll see you at school.”

My dad and I had this tradition of eating at this chinese joint near the apartment instead of taking it home. We usually went here when my dad got back from trips, we really didn’t feel like cooking, or when I was coming back from staying at Peters. And this time it just so happened to be all three.

The place was always empty with the exception of one or two people and the old man who was always sleeping in the corner. The owner, Mrs. Guo, knew us and our order like it was second nature by this point. She had even met Peter and loved him so much that she asks me where he is every time we come around without him.

One of the best things about the restaurant is that, truly, no one is in there. And no one listens to what you’re talking about. We know Mrs. Guo listened to our conversation, but she never told anyone. Mostly cause she felt like it was rude to tell people about our lives when we respected her and she respected us.

“Remember when you asked me about my source,” My dad asked as I took a sip of my sprite.

“I remember you not telling me,” I said bitterly, taking another bite out of my egg roll.

“Annie was my source,” He said, digging for a piece of shrimp in his shrimp fried rice.

I looked at him, confused as I chewed some more. “She willingly told you the person she was representing illegally tested on people?”

“I logged into her computer…while she as asleep. And I saw an email with confidential documents,” I kept my eyes on him blanky, slowly taking in what he was saying. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I asked, not changing my facial expression.

“Like, this is the first time i’ve fucked up,” My dad said, crossing his arms. I narrowed my eyes at him, taking in his appearance. The usual wrinkles in his brow were more prominent now than the last time I saw him. His eye bags were more defined as well. He hadn’t shaved either.

“Did you get suspended?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing as I watched his expression. “Anne was pissed last time I talked to her. And there is no way fuck-his-face didn’t find out you basically insulted Carlton Drake to his face. I mean, you said it yourself, that man is powerful .”

“I didn’t get suspended,” He said shrugging. My head cocked to the side as I waited for him to explain that miracle. “I got fired.”

I felt my heart drop. I blinked a few times, trying to just take in the information. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like eating anymore. I sat up straighter and let go of the eggroll in my hand. My dad was avoiding eye contact with me. It definitely was not a miracle.