O Brother, Where Art Thou?

“Morgan! There you are. Dad said you ran outside earlier. You look sadder than Gerald, there, chickadee. What’s going on?”

“Do you think I’m ugly?”

“W-what?”

“Brady Groggins said that my hair looked like limp spaghetti cooked in crap and that I’m probably adopted because there was no way that two people like you and dad could have someone who looked like me.”

“Brady Groggins is a jealous twerp whose father lost out on a business deal with your dad because he’s just as vile as his hellspawn.” 

“Mom!”

“If it’s true, it’s true. Come here, trouble.”

“I don’t want to go back to school.”

“Mmmm.”

“Is that an “ok, Morgan, light of my life and beautiful daughter, who I’ll do anything for as long as she asks?””

“You’re two peas in a pod, you and your father, huh? No, sweetie. That’s a, “I hear you, Morgan, light of my life and beautiful daughter, and I’ll do whatever is the best thing for you, even if it’s hard sometimes. Here, we’re already out here. Put these on. Let’s clean his pen together and I can tell you all about Hubert Groggins’s bad business deals. If his son has as bad as breath as his father, I can’t imagine how you’re getting through the day. You don’t have to sit next to him, do you?”

Morgan was happy.

Her dad was awake. Peter was safe. 

Morgan was happy.

Everything worked out. Nothing was wrong.

Morgan was happy. Her breath hitched unexpectedly, as she trailed behind Uncle Steve. Something felt like it was caught in her throat, making it hard to breathe. Walking in the large kitchen, she saw the chocolate chips sitting next to the stove and a couple of mixing bowls beside them. The kitchen wasn’t empty—Uncle Happy and Aunt Nat were sitting at the large table by a window, sharing a newspaper and talking in low voices. They smiled at their entrance, Aunt Nat giving Morgan a searching look before turning back to her conversation. 

“Okay, Missy Galissy, wash your hands and hop up here and help me, huh? We haven’t done this in a while.” 

Uncle Steve didn’t seem angry with her, but she needed to know for sure. 

“Uncle Steve?”

“Yeah, kiddo?” 

She swallowed a few times past the lump in her throat. Her eyes felt hot and wet, and it wasn’t until her Aunt’s thumb was gently wiping under them that she realized it was because she was crying. Uncle Steve looked concerned, as Aunt Nat (who must have been paying closer attention than she thought) picked her up and sat her on top of the kitchen island. Uncle Happy was still at the table, but he had put down the newspaper and was watching them quietly. 

Uncle Steve patted her knee. “What’s up, chickadee?” 

It was difficult to figure out what she wanted to say—how she wanted to say it. Her mind felt really stormy. Her thoughts were jumbled and even though she had excitedly recounted everything that happened with Osborn and Petey and was thrilled her dad was awake, nothing seemed to help the empty feeling that kept trying to claw its way into her chest. 

When she closed her eyes, she could see the Goblin monster Osborn attack Peter and she swore she could still feel his claws touch her face. Uncle Rhodey flew them back to the Compound after Peter saved her—but he was too busy giving Petey medicine and bandages to check on her. 

Then, they came home with the flash drive and Peter refused to get any more medical care until Uncle Bruce and Uncle Rhodey helped him fix their dad. And Uncle Steve didn’t know this, but Morgan slipped away from her cot in the Med Bay and overheard him whisper-yelling at Petey. Her brother called him some nasty names, and she’s pretty sure Uncle Steve broke the door slamming it when he left. 

She had never seen her uncle so angry, and it would make sense that if he was mad at Peter for tricking him, he’d be mad at her. 

“Are you—are you mad? At me?” Morgan hated how she kept her eyes on her knees instead of her uncle’s face, but she couldn’t stand to see him disappointed. It seemed like she kept messing up. And even though she knew Petey and her dad said she was fine and ok and didn’t do anything wrong, ever since Christmas she just felt like Brady Groggins was exactly right. She made stupid mistakes.

Uncle Steve cleared his throat. She didn’t see him exchange looks with her Aunt Nat, but he paused long enough that she could feel her heart speed up like a drum that beat really, really hard.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me?” 

Morgan lifted her head but let her hair fall in her face. It felt safer to look through that than at him directly. 

He tucked it behind her ears anyway, face and eyes super soft and kind. “Of course I’m not mad at you. You’re the best gal I know, Morgan. Why would you think that?”

She mumbled under her breath. “You’re mad at Petey.” His hearing must have picked it up because he sucked in a breath. He paused even longer this time, and didn’t respond until Aunt Nat slapped him upside the head. She heard her whisper, “Quit it. Act your age.”

Uncle Steve sighed. “I was scared, honey. And sometimes when adults get scared, they don’t know how to talk to each other. Your brother was scared for you and your dad, and I was scared for all of you, and I was embarrassed. I made a mistake and I blamed someone else for it instead of taking accountability. Do you know what accountability means?”

Morgan scoffed, “I'm not stupid.” Aunt Nat snorted, and Uncle Steve smiled. 

“No princess, you’re the smartest person I know and I know your dad.” 

Morgan looked down at her knees again. “You made a mistake? Aren’t you, like, really, really old? Dad says you were born when dinosaurs roamed the earth.”

Uncle Steve scoffed like Morgan had. “Well, ‘really, really old’ people make mistakes all the time. I should know better. I got into a fight with your brother but I’m pretty sure he needed a hug instead. I hope he can forgive me. He seems like a pretty cool guy.” Uncle Steve said this louder, and Morgan startled when she heard footsteps come into the kitchen.

Petey was standing in the entryway looking uncomfortable and his eyes were red like he’d been crying or trying not to and he had his fists balled up like he was trying not to use them. He smiled shakily when Morgan looked up at him, and gave her a half wave. “Hey shortstack. Friday told me you were making pancakes? If I remember it right, there’s nothing better than Captain America’s pancakes.” 

He nodded and Uncle Steve nodded back, and adults were weird because that seemed like all they were going to say but the room felt lighter anyway, like the air going out of a balloon. Petey looked like he was still upset about something, so Morgan opened her arms and he walked over to lift her up. She was obviously way too old to be carried, but she allowed it if it made her brother feel better.

“Are you ok?” She whispered in his ear, and he nodded.

“Are you ok?” He whispered back and she nodded.

Somehow, she knew they were both lying.

The morning passed quickly as Uncle Steve flipped and Morgan poured in what her dad always called an “obscene” amount of chocolate chips. Peter sat at the breakfast table quietly. Uncle Happy was saying something in a low voice to him, but he didn’t respond beyond shaking or nodding his head.

MJ walked in right as they were putting the pancakes on the table. She kissed Morgan on the head, and smacked Peter on the head, and then kissed him on the head too, and he gave her a small smile. He scooted over to let her sit next to him and Morgan heard her whisper, “Ned’s been asking about you, loser. He’s fine. He’s worried. Eat and then we’re going to see him.” Peter played with the napkin in front of him, but Morgan caught his small nod and MJ’s relieved sigh. 

Morgan poured half a bottle of syrup on her pancakes until Uncle Happy took it away and ate quietly. The conversation at the table was awkward but everyone seemed ok. Morgan didn’t know why her throat kept closing up.

“You drown your pancakes just like your mom did.” Uncle Steve’s voice sounded loud in her ears. 

Uncle Happy laughed under his breath. “Pepper used to tell Tony that it was her only vice and he was lucky she didn’t use brandy with the way he always drove her crazy.” 

The table was quiet. Peter has started tapping his foot quickly under the table. Morgan could feel the vibrations if she concentrated hard enough. Uncle Steve seemed unaware of it. 

“I remember when Morgan had an ear infection and Pepper swore the only way to get her to take her medicine was with a spoonful of syrup. Tony accused her of wanting an excuse to stockpile it in case of a zombie apocalypse.” 

Morgan’s mouth tasted too sweet. It made her feel like gagging. She heard her fork clatter to the ground and she dived under the table to pick it up. She wondered for a moment if anyone would notice if she stayed under the table, but she slowly got back up.

Aunt Nat was smiling and Peter was mashing his pancake into pancake soup. 

Uncle Steve winked at Morgan and took another bite. He kept talking. Morgan thought his voice sounded ugly and she hated it. The thought surprised her.

Remember when….Remember this…remember, remember, remember…

Morgan screamed and the table stilled suddenly. She pushed her chair down to the ground and heard voices around her, but ran towards the door. 

She didn’t realize she was back in her room crying until there was a patterned knock on the door and she found herself hugging her pillow. 

Spy-Girl, Spider-Man is requesting entrance. May I let him in?

Friday’s voice sounded gentle, as Petey’s secret knock sounded again. “O–okay, Friday.”

“Hey Morgie. Rough morning, huh?” Morgan felt the bed dip, and she turned her head away from him. She only responded with a sniff. 

“I understand how you feel.” Peter sighed and began rubbing her back. “When…when my Uncle Ben…was gone, Aunt May,” he stumbled on her name, “wanted to look at pictures a few months later. I ran to my room too.” 

“It’s not the same.” Morgan mumbled into her pillow. 

“What do you mean, kiddo?” 

“It’s not the same.” She didn’t mean to but she yelled it out. 

“Want to tell me about it?” Peter sounded kind and understanding but there was no way he could understand. Morgan’s secret burned under her skin, and she started pinching herself really hard to keep it from coming out. She started sobbing again—big, hiccuping sobs that made it hard to breathe. 

Petey grabbed her hands but she screamed again. He heard her say something to Friday, but covered her ears with her hands. 

Eventually, her sobs turned just to hiccups, and she faintly felt a heavier hand rubbing her back. A deep voice was murmuring something she couldn’t make out, but it sounded reassuring. Slowly, she took her hands away from her ears and her dad’s voice was speaking over and over again. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s okay, Momo. Let it out. This has been a long time coming, hon. It’s okay.” 

Her face felt hot and sticky. Petey knelt by her bed and handed her a cold washcloth. She hadn’t even heard him leave. His eyes were sad and had tears in them too. When her dad realized she was calming down, he scooped her up against his chest and began rocking her softly. She fell asleep to him humming. 

Morgan woke up some time later—her nose was full and stuffy. Peter was laying next to her, and her dad had pulled a chair up by her bed. His eyes were red and he was rubbing her head gently. When he noticed she was awake, he spoke softly.

“There you are, my brave girl.” 

She smiled briefly, then looked down. Peter didn’t move, but he grabbed her hand and squeezed. 

“My two brilliant kids. You get it from me, you know.”

Peter snorted. Morgan looked up at her dad and he tickled her softly on her face. 

“It’s been a really hard year, hasn’t it?” 

She nodded as he traced the bruises she made on her arms. He clucked his tongue. “Scootch over you two. Let me in.” Peter rolled, and Morgan rolled, and her dad wiggled into bed next to them. Friday had dimmed the lights and there was soft music playing, a tune Morgan recognized from a lullaby when she was younger. 

“You know, I don’t talk about this a lot, but I’m wondering if that’s been part of the problem. Maguna, remember when I told you about your grandpa and grandma? My mom and dad? I was probably Petey’s age when they passed away and I had a really hard year after that. A really hard few years.” Her dad coughed and paused. Peter squeezed Morgan’s hand again.

“It’s hard to talk about but the longer I went without talking about it, the harder it was. I would do things to make it feel not so hard, but those things weren’t good for me. They hurt me. And it wasn’t until Uncle Rhodey sat me down one night and gave me an ultimatum that I realized that hurting myself wasn’t fixing the bad feelings inside. Instead of getting rid of them, it just made my outside feel just as bad as my inside.” Peter’s breath hitched and Morgan heard him sniff. Her dad rolled over to look at both of them. 

“I want to help, but you need to talk about it, peanut. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out. I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you? The Three Musketeers.” 

Morgan sat up and hugged her knees. Both Peter and her dad sat up next to her and rubbed her back. 

“I…I haven’t told you something.”

“That’s alright, Maguna. Do you want to tell us now?”

She nodded. It hurt to keep it inside. 

“I don’t remember.” She shivered and her brother pulled her closer. 

“Remember what, bug?”

“What mommy’s voice sounded like. Or what…what she smelled like. I didn’t talk about her for forever and now I’ve forgotten her and I’m never going to remember again and I’m a bad daughter.” She said it all in one breath. 

Both her dad and her brother started speaking. “Absolutely not, sweet pea.” “No you aren’t, Morgs. Not at all.” “It’s ok.” “It’s ok.” “That’s fine.”

“I mean, I remember her.” Morgan was desperate for them to understand, “I remember what we did and things she told me, but I don’t know what she sounded like. Why can’t I remember that? What’s wrong with me?”

Her dad sighed and took her hands in his. “Sweetie, look at me. That’s normal, alright. You have been through so much and are carrying so much. Our brains aren’t like video cameras. We’ve talked about that. Brains are what?”

“Weird.” She scrunched her nose.

“Weird. That’s right. And just because your brain is having trouble knowing what someone sounded like or smelled like doesn’t mean your brain doesn’t love them.”

“Morgie.” Peter drew pictures on her back, “Dad is right.” Her dad put his hand on his chest and sighed dramatically at that. They both laughed. “No one remembered me for the longest time, but you still looked for me. You still loved me. I don’t care about the remembering as much as the hugs.” He tickled her and she giggled. 

They were quiet for a bit. Her dad spoke after a while. 

“You know, I was so worried about bringing your mom up that I never talked about her after everything happened. I don’t think that was the right call, kiddo. I’m so sorry. I know Lego lady was a disaster but we probably need to try again. You and me both.”

Peter lightly touched the bruises on her arms. “Me—me too.”

Her dad’s voice cracked. “Yeah, bud?”

Petey nodded. He grabbed a tissue that was on her nightstand and rubbed his eyes really fast. “Yeah.”

Morgan’s dad smiled, and reached around her back to rub his head. 

They fell into silence as Friday played another lullaby over her speakers. 

Morgan felt lighter than she had in a long, long time. 

“By the way, Pete. What did you say to Cap? He looked delightfully scared of you.” 

Peter laughed and Morgan knew everything would be alright.