The Briefcase
I hesitantly reach out for another bite of May’s lasagna, taking it onto my fork. Should I risk eating it? At a glance, I see her watching from across the table. Shit. I shovel the food into my mouth, trying not to shudder. When will she learn that takeout is better? I guess she couldn’t help it though, given the person sitting on the third side of the table. I turn to take a glance at Mr. Stark.
He’s cleared his plate already. Impossible. I look from him to his plate, making eye contact. He just raises his eyebrows and gives the tiniest smirk. I roll my eyes and turn back to May. “Sorry, what’d you say?” I ask.
“I was just telling you not to go spidermanning after dinner, okay?” she says. “Tony only comes over once a month.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, taking a sip of my water.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t go out tonight,” Mr. Stark says.
May grins. “Thanks, Tony.”
I try not to roll my eyes again, instead turning back to my questionable food. It’s like they’re co-parenting. May’s a helicopter parent, and Mr. Stark is like a cool dad. Is he like my dad? The thought makes me a little excited. Wouldn’t that be awesome? I mean, it’s not like I remember my real dad. And Uncle Ben’s…gone.
Mr. Stark leans forward, putting his elbows on the table. “What story were you going to tell about little Peter, May?”
Oh, no. “Um, May?” I ask. “Please no?”
She laughs and talks anyway. “So we were at some school supply store when he was going into kindergarten, right? Well, he liked to eat crayons back then.”
Mr. Stark looks at me, and I put my head in my hands.
May continues. “So he comes up to me with a packet of crayons, and says, ‘can we buy all of them except the blue ones?’”
“Why the blue ones?” Mr. Stark asks with a chuckle.
“He liked the yellow ones. The blue ones were too tart,” May says, dissolving into laughter. I look up at her, glaring.
“Why would you tell him that story?” I hiss.
“Hey, Pete, want me to get you some yellow crayons?” Mr. Stark says, barely containing his own laughter.
“Oh my god.” I slam my head into the table. “I hate you all.”
May calms down, and says, “Okay, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
I straighten. “No,” I say with crossed arms. A smile still creeps its way onto my face, and she gives one back.
“Okay, how about I give you a breather? Why don’t you go get that photo album from my room? The red one?”
I frown. “You’re not talking about the one with my middle school pictures, are you?”
“Please?” She sticks out her bottom lip.
“Fine,” I groan, pushing back my chair. I walk around the table and just as I enter the hallway, Mr. Stark calls,
“Thanks, Pete!”
“You’re welcome,” I say back. The walk to May’s room takes barely any time at all, and in a minute I open the door. Her room is messy as always. It’s been that way since Ben died. He was always cleaning up, and now that he’s gone, there’s clothes everywhere, and the bed in the center of the room is unmade. I don’t even want to look inside the closet to my right. I smile. I like May’s messiness. Makes this place feel more like home than it already does.
“Hey May?” I yell. “Where is it?”
“Under the bed,” she calls to me.
“Thanks,” I say loudly, then step over clothes until I’m beside the bed. Kneeling down, I glance underneath. God, it’s a mess down here. It’s like a tornado of shoes, clothes, photo albums, and…a briefcase?
Wait, what?
I pull it out, blowing on it to clear off dust. It’s a plain, brown leather briefcase with a buckle that reads: RP.
RP? Who’s that? Ben’s initials are BP. So who…?
The briefcase drops from my hands. RP. Richard Parker. My father.
“Peter?” May’s voice reaches me, and I jump. Quickly I scan under the bed, finding the red photo album. I stand and walk to the door, but on impulse grab the briefcase. As I walk down the hall, I open my door and shove the briefcase inside, closing the door behind it.
I reach May and Mr. Stark, holding out the photo album. May takes it from me with a smile that I return, but through a daze. That briefcase sticks in my mind. Where did it come from? How long has May had it? What’s in it? Damn, I forgot to check.
She opens the book, and shows Mr. Stark a picture of me with braces. He laughs and points to another one of me and Ned, with MJ in the background. My heart skips a beat at the thought of my girlfriend, but my mind quickly returns to the case.
May leads us all over to the couch, where we plop down. I sit in middle, with May on the right, and Mr. Stark on the left.
“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” she says, turning to the first page. It’s a picture of me, holding up a peace sign next to Midtown Tech’s front doors. “Aw, this was his first day of middle school. Isn’t he adorable?”
Mr. Stark nods, and I sigh. This is going to be a long night.
Still, I can’t help but wonder about that case. When Mr. Stark leaves, I’m going to look inside.
I don’t have many memories of my parents. There’s a few images, but nothing clear. A smile here, a laugh there. Toys they gave me, maybe. What I know, I know from May. They walked out the door when I was four years old, and never came back. She says they died in a plane crash. I wonder where they were going.
Oh, well. I can find out when I look tonight.