The Daughter of Iron Man

The September Foundation

It was dark backstage, and I tripped over too many things to count.

Originally, I was planning to watch from the audience. But because of safety reasons, it was decided that I would have to stay backstage.

So instead, I hid from the audience behind a curtain to watch as close as I could.

On stage, my dad presented a piece of technology he wanted to create when he was an MIT student. It would allow you to relive a memory, or to re-experience something in a different light. 

Although as an MIT student, he didn't have the money and no one was willing to fund his project so he wasn't able to do it then.

I watched curiously, since the memory he presented with was of the last time he saw his parents.

Unfortunately however, it was very difficult to see everything on stage, which is why I wanted to sit in the audience in the first place. Although, I managed to see most of it by watching at a weird angle from the side. 

My dad never really talked about his parents. He never showed me pictures, all he ever told me was that his relationship with his father was complicated. 

The presentation started with a woman playing the piano and singing. Her voice was calming, though I had to fumble with the curtains awkwardly so I could see her. 

Luckily, the room was dark so no one could see me. 

"Wake up dear, say goodbye to your father." She said, no longer singing as a man with impressively white hair entered the room, though she continued to play piano.

"Who's the homeless person on the couch?" The man asked, lifting the red blanket off the couch to reveal a young man with a Santa hat. 

He emerged from the couch, and at first I didn't recognize him. But when I realized it was my dad without facial hair, I smiled. 

"This is why I love coming home for Christmas, right before you leave town." The young version of my dad told his father, and I realized his voice sounded mostly the same. 

"Be nice dear, he's been studying abroad." The woman told her husband. She was mostly focused on the piano, but she still pitched in to the conversation.

I wish I could hear her sing again.

"Oh really, which broad?" The man with white hair asked exasperated, straightening his spine to show dominance over his son. "What's her name?" He added as he pulled off the Santa hat. 

"Candice." He replied, though I couldn't tell if he was still being sarcastic. 

"Do me a favor, try not to burn the house down before Monday." The man said, sounding rather annoyed. Even though it was just a memory, I was getting annoyed with him as well.

"Okay, so it's Monday? That is good to know, I will plan my toga party accordingly." Young Tony Stark replied, and I had to refrain from laughing. 

I highly enjoyed seeing how my dad interacted with his parents, though I silently wished they were all closer. 

Clearly annoyed with his father, my dad walked away from him to join his mother at the piano who was still paying little attention to the conversation. 

"Where are you going?" he asked, shoving his hands tightly in his pockets. 

It was almost weird seeing him in such casual clothes, even if it was around 20 years ago. 

"Your father's flying us to the Bahamas for a little get away." She replied.

"We might have to make a quick stop." His father said, wedging himself back into the conversation.