Chapter 16
MILES
The morning after the incident with the police, he got a pass from his Pop to skip school. His Dad was avoiding him – even though his Pop tried to convince him otherwise – so it was just him and his Pop at the breakfast table that morning.
Emerson hugged him for about an hour when she got home that night. But she was still missing her wife and didn’t come out of her room until about eleven, so he sat with his blonde father, wondering if he was going to punish him for yesterday.
He got a few texts from his friends last night that already had the teenager agitated.
Zack was pissed he did something that stupid and ignorant.
Freddie wanted to know if he was okay.
And Will asked if he ever got the ‘talk’ from his parents.
And apparently he hadn’t meant the sex kind.
No, he remembers texting the group chat back, my white parents never gave me the ‘how to talk to police’ talk.
He didn’t read the rest of the messages until this morning, but needless to say – he didn’t feel fully to blame for this.
As Miles sits next to his Pop chowing down on waffles, he wonders whether he should talk to him or not about it.
But what would he even say?
Hey Pop, did either of you take into account my skin color when you adopted me?
Instead he decided to ask his Pop something else.
“Am I grounded?” The retired super soldier looked at his youngest for a long moment before shaking his head no.
“No Miles, you’re not grounded. I mainly want you to stay home to heal up.”
“Okay…well…” a thought crossed his mind, “could I maybe hang out with Uncle Sam today? If he’s not busy?” His Pop looked at him for another moment, looking like he realized why, before offering him a small smile.
“Yeah, sure. Just be home before dinner, okay? Your Dad and I still need to talk to you about yesterday.”
“Okay, thanks Pop,” he said before excusing himself from the table to take his plate to the sink. After he went to his room, texted his uncle and changed, he came back to the kitchen to find his Pop washing the dishes in the sink.
The teen came up behind the man and hugged him, smiling when he heard the man chuckle in response and pat his arm lovingly.
“Love you Pop.”
“Love you too, Miles. Tell Sam he’s welcome to join us for dinner.” Miles released his Pop with a smile as he made his way to the elevators.
“Look man, your parents are a lot of things – but ignorant isn’t one of them.”
“Okay, well Uncle Sam did your parents give you the talk?” he asked incredulously. The two had just eaten an early lunch together and were walking around the park to continue their conversation.
“Yes, but my parents were also civil rights activists so…I don’t think they can count as the same thing.”
“How can you say my parents aren’t ignorant when the two white men that already had two white children adopted a mixed boy of color?” His uncle gave him one of his famous ‘you’re being an idiot’ looks that confused the teen.
Normally, no matter the subject matter, his Uncle Sam was on his side.
A lot of times it was to annoy his parents or siblings, so him siding with his parents on this matter in particular was perplexing the teen.
“Come with me, nephew,” his uncle said as he grabbed the teen by the shoulder to steer him back to his car. Miles was silent as his uncle drove them around the city.
Until they pulled up to a building Miles had never seen before.
“Uh, Uncle Sam?” he asked as the man put the car in park and turned to face the teen, “where exactly are we?”
“Come on,” he said as he got out and Miles followed him. He walked the two around the building and through the beautiful garden.
“This is the headquarters for the Black Lives Matter movement,” his uncle began as Miles continued walking alongside him. “There’s a small plaque back here I want you to see,” Sam said as he stopped in front a rose bush, pointing down.
Miles followed his finger and squatted down to read it when he saw it.
‘To our most generous donors, Mr. and Mr. Stark-Rogers, who would only accept roses in thanks’
The frustration Miles felt was still bubbling inside him as he slowly stood up to face his uncle.
“So they’re not ignorant for throwing money at a charity?” he asked skeptically as his uncle rolled his eyes in response.
“Alright, back to the car,” the man muttered as he dragged Miles back. They continued driving out of New York and all the way to Baltimore as his uncle simply fiddled with the radio in lieu of explaining himself. Eventually they parked in front of another nice looking building Miles had never seen – except this time he could make out what it was.
Since giant letters spelled out “National Headquarters of NAACP”
“If this is more money throwing…” he began before his uncle silenced him with a sharp look. He silently followed the man inside as they were greeted by a nice older gentleman.
“Mr. Wilson! What a surprise, we haven’t seen you in ages. How have you been young man?”
“I’m fine Mr. Jackson, thank you. Just wanted to introduce my nephew here,” he said as he pulled the teen closer, “Miles Stark.” The man’s smile dropped from his face before it was replaced by an even bigger grin and an outstretched hand.
“I’ve heard a lot of great things about you, young man. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. I’m afraid I’ve only seen your face through the many photos your father has shown me over the years,” the man said kindly as Miles returned the hand shake. Wait…
“Years?” he asked in confirmation.
“Well, yeah. Your Dad serves on our advisory board and is a frequent donor. He has now for…what,” he asks as he turns to his uncle, “seven years?” Sam nodded in response with a small smile. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t stay and chat but I have a meeting to get to. Feel free to roam around, Sam I’m sure can show you the way. It was a pleasure to meet you Miles,” the man said before excusing himself.
Miles took a moment to let that information sink in before turning to his uncle who had a small smile on his face.
“Come on, one more place,” he promised as he wrapped his arm around the teen and walked the two back to the car.
They made it back to the city in record time, still listening silently to the radio as his uncle pulled up in front of the building Miles instantly recognized.
The Sarah Rogers Foundation.
“Okay, what?” he asked, thoroughly confused as his uncle just got out of the parked car and walked into the building. Miles sat another moment before following the man inside.
“Hey Mr. Wilson! So glad you could drop by,” the receptionist said as the two approached the counter.
“Stephanie, how’s your mother doing?”
“She’s out of the hospital! Thanks for asking.”
“That’s great to hear. Steph, this is my nephew, Miles,” the man said pointing to the teen as he saw the woman’s jaw drop.
“The Miles?” she asked incredulously as the teen found himself rolling his eyes fondly – knowing where this was heading.
“The very same, I was hoping to show him the hall? Is it okay if we go back there?” his uncle asked, trying to avoid the inevitable bragging story.
“Oh, yeah, sure! You know the way,” she said before turning to answer the ringing telephone.
Miles followed his uncle, wondering why on earth they were here as he stopped short when he saw it.
He froze for a second as he saw his uncle stop and turn back to him with another warm smile.
Behind him, was a sign that read “The Annette Morales Wing”
Miles mouthed the words several times without speaking them, before his feet moved and he walked closer to trace the sign with his finger.
He hadn’t thought about his mom in a long time.
Honestly, he barely remembers her – which hurts to admit. He does remember a warm, loving voice but wouldn’t remember her face without the few pictures he had of her.
“How long has this been here?” he asks quietly as he suddenly remembers its absence when he occasionally came here as a kid.
“Few years,” his uncle responded in a kind voice. “It specifically reserved for single moms-of-color. There’s even a scholarship set up in her name for those that make it through the GED program.”
Miles absorbed that information for another moment before his thoughts were interrupted by his uncle’s cursing.
“Shit, we gotta get going if you’re going to make it home by dinner. You know how finicky your Papa is about being punctual,” the man teased as Miles wordlessly followed him back to the car, only speaking up as they neared his home.
“Pop said you’re welcome to join us for dinner,” Miles said blankly.
“Next time, little man. I’ve got a date tonight,” his uncle said as he pulled up to park in front of the Tower.
As Miles started to unbuckle, he felt his uncle gently grab his shoulder.
“Hey, that wasn’t meant to guilt trip you, or magically convince you your parents are zero percent ignorant. Cause honestly, no one is. Except maybe Malala Yousafazi. Or Obama, or her husband,” he said, catching Miles off guard as he chuckled at that.
“And feel free to call your Uncle Rhodey, cause I know Tony went to him more often with concerns than Steve did to me and has more personal examples... but I just wanted to show you that they’ve tried. Still do. No parents are perfect, and I plan on chastising them for not being more proactive about police brutality…but I just…wanted you to know your dads aren’t some dumb white saviors who didn’t do their homework. Okay?”
Miles smiled and nodded in response, fully understanding what the man had been trying to tell him. And though it didn’t fully solve the hurt confusion in his heart, he felt more confident about confronting his Dad.
He hugged his uncle before bidding him farewell and thanks, waving at the man as he watched him drive off. He tried to absorb everything that’s happened over the last twenty four hours as he rode the elevator back up to their floor.
He makes his way into the kitchen first, finding his Pop and sister cooking.
“Hey Miles,” his father greeted with a smile when he heard him enter, “Sam busy?”
“Yeah, he’s got a date,” he responds as he looks around. “Is Dad still in his lab?”
“Oh, yeah, but I’m going to go grab him right now,” his Pop began as he wiped his hands on a nearby towel.
“Actually, I’ll get him,” Miles interrupted, standing his ground when his Pop threw him a look of uncertainty. The blonde looked over at Emerson who shrugged in response before turning back to the teen.
“Alright,” his Pop said in agreement, turning back to the stove as Miles walked to his Dad’s lab, steps slowing as he approached the stairs.
He took a deep breath before descending the stairs, punching in the code his Dad had given him to open the door. The lab was silent as he walked in and saw his Dad – just looking at his tablet. Normally he was covered in grease neck deep in one of his antique cars or covered in ash from a lab explosion but he was…clean.
Sitting in a chair.
Looking at his tablet.
Miles stopped short a few feet from the man, wondering if he had heard the teen enter as he didn’t look up.
“…Dad?” he whispered, not wanting to startle the man. His Dad continued staring at his damn tablet while Miles stood there for another second. “Are you still mad?” he asked, immediately regretting it when the man finally looked up at the teen – with anger etched on his face and tears in his eyes – before the man scoffed out a fake laugh.
“Yeah, I’m still pretty fucking furious. But that’s not on you, kid…” he said as he began turning away before Miles felt something snap.
“It’s not on me that you’re furious with me? How? And why are you so mad at me? You’ve done the same thing. So has Pop and so has Peter–”
“–Miles...”
“–so why am I any different?”
“Because…” his Dad said sadly.
“Why?” Miles demanded a little more forcefully, immediately pulling back when he saw the tears in his Dad’s eyes.
“Because you’re…” he paused, where Miles suddenly filled in the blank with the word ‘BLACK’ in big block letters in his head.
Just say it, he thought to himself angrily.
“I’m what?” he voiced, now wanting to hear him say the actual word.
“...Miles…”
“Just say it!” he shouted.
“You’re...my baby,” the man choked out, completely catching the teen off guard. He stood frozen as his Dad began sobbing, hesitating before he reached out to rest his hand on the man’s shoulder. Miles drew back in surprise when his Dad suddenly jumped out of his chair and started pacing.
“Do you have any idea, any idea how fucking infuriating it is knowing I can’t protect you? I could come out of retirement right this fucking second, upgrade my armor and save you from an alien invasion. Or a terrorist attack. Or a goddamn kidnapping!” he shouted before taking a breath and walking over to stand in front of the teen.
“But I can’t save you from a police officer?” he choked out as the teen felt sadness quickly overtook his anger. Miles found himself easily pulling the man into his embrace, scrunching down low enough to bury his face in the shorter man’s neck.
“I’m okay, Dad,” Miles said shakily, unsure what else to say.
“Yeah, for now,” he heard his Dad whine as he tightened his grip, causing the teen to giggle in response.
“Well, I’m your son so I’ll never really be okay,” Miles teased, glad to hear his Dad chuckle as well before pulling back to look at his son.
“You are my son. And I am so fucking proud of you. I just…” the man trailed off as he looked away from the teen. “...wish I could protect you.”
“You can’t protect me forever, Dad.” The genius had a sneaky grin appear across his face before he looked back at his teen.
“Is that a challenge? Cause I’ve been considering some kind of nano-tech/bubble-wrap hybrid…”
“Alright, let’s stop that train before it derails,” Miles said with a laugh before addressing him more seriously. “So. I hung out with Uncle Sam today…”
“Oh yeah? Did he spend the day telling you how much of an ass I am? Because I already have your father to tell me that…”
“No, the opposite actually,” Miles said with a smile as his Dad looked skeptically back at him. He gestured to the couch and followed the man around to sit and continue their conversation - stealing a glance at the tablet that lay on the table, forgotten.
It was a slideshow of Miles’ pictures through the years.