Redamancy | Harry Osborn

f i f t e e n

    Angelica trotted up the stairs of the hospital with a smile smeared on her face. It was now around five in the afternoon, and Harry had just gone on his way from visiting Aunt May.
He and Jolie had spent a good hour sitting and talking in his car, until he finally decided it was time to leave and talk to his father.
She finally made it to floor 2, slowly dragging her feet along the green and white flooring tiles, all the way until she was standing in front of room 236. She cracked the door open and slipped through, sighing deeply and she turned her body to face the window.
Instead of the room being almost vacant with a lifeless body centered in it, it surprised Angelica to see a man sitting on the love seat in front of the window.
Her jaw dropped slightly, and she tilted her head, "dad?"
He was watching her. From the second he saw her brunette hair through the window up until now, "Angelica, hey."
"Where have you been, dude?" The words slipped just slipped. She could've been nicer about it, she could've asked if he was okay. But she didn't.
"Your grandparents' house," he nodded slowly, as if he was trying to convince himself. "I'm sorry, this town was just eating me alive. I need to get out for a while."
"Everyone was worried about you. Dylan's on her fucking death bed, you missed thanksgiving. Sammy, poor thing, has a more unstable life than a fucking crack whore."
"I figured we weren't doing thanksgiving, you know," he gestured to Dylan, "with all that's happened."
Angelica shrugged and sat across from him in her designated blue seat, "we didn't, really."
"Figured Nate would've been with his parents, and you with your friends."
Jolie shifted uncomfortably. She wondered what would've happened if Bruce would've been at Thanksgiving. Would he have stuck up for her, too? "So, why are you here now?"
"I've finished clearing my head," he answered. His voice was unusually calm, and he didn't seem as on edge as the last time Jolie saw him.
"Well, what do you want?"
"First off," he sat up and leaned his elbows on his knees, "I want to say I'm sorry. Like, really sorry, Angelica. I have been treating you and Dylan differently these past years. And you've helped me realize that."
Jolie was shocked. To her core. Her father, Bruce Oldbrooke, was sitting in front of her, apologizing?
"When your mother left, I saw two things. A little girl who didn't understand what was going on, and a little girl who knew all too well what was going on. I focused on your sister more, and didn't realize how it affected you."
"I get that," Jolie mumbled. All of her bickering seemed pointless now. She seems so selfish now.
"I'm so proud of you for the job you've gotten, and the place you call home now. I just got upset when I realized that I've let you slip away too fast. And now you're all grown up, and I feel like I've missed it all," he stood, and Angelica followed his movement.
"Dad," she breathed, and inched closer to him, wrapping her hand around his neck and pulling him in for a hug. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way. But if it makes you feel better, I feel like I grew up too fast, too."
Bruce cleared his throat and stepped back from her, "how's Guppie?"
Angelica nodded, taking her seat back in the chair, "he's fine. Still staying at your house. I go to feed him and take him out before and after work. My apartment has a strict 'no pet policy'."
"And your work, how is it?"
"Slow, but interesting. We're building a set for Peter Pan right now," Jolie answered, twiddling with her thumbs. "How's grandma and grandpa?"
"They're fine. They miss you; they're still waiting for you to write back to them," Bruce told.
Angelica groaned, "why can't they get a phone? I don't want to sit there and write them essays every time I want to talk to them."
"I think they were disappointed you didn't come to thanksgiving."
"I wasn't invited. And we had a friend-thing here. At the boys' apartment," Angelica got up again, slowly walking in circles around the room.
"Oh? That sounds fun, who all went?" His eyebrows furrowed as he watched his daughter pace around.
"Harry and Peter, obviously, Aunt May, me, Mary Jane.. and Mr. Osborn," she answered, now leaning against the concrete walls.
"How'd that go?" Again, it was never a secret that Norman was the killer of fun.
"Uh..." how should she answer this? "Not good, to be honest. Mr. Osborn left early. So did I."
"You left early? Oh, god, what did he do?"
"He was just being a jerk to Harry. As usual," she lied, making a stick figure with her index and middle finger and having it walk on the walls.
"I hope you still got to have some of May's sweet potato casserole," he took note of her ADHD acting up again, something he and her doctor had diagnosed her with from a young age.
"Yeah," she nodded. "Peter brought me some."
"So.. what about this whole situation?" He gestured towards Dylan. "What the hell happened?"
Angelica got up from her leaning spot and began walking around the walls of the room, "Oscorp held their Unity Day bullshit, and this crazy green motherfucker came flying in the sky. He threw these bomb-looking things on the balcony where we were. They exploded, and then all of a sudden Dylan was falling off the edge. Spiderman tried to save her, but he only caught MJ. Now here we are."
"You we're with her?"
"I was walking inside, she was near the edge. It was a date thing, so she was with her 'date', Mary Jane. Nate had to work," she remembered, now smoothing down a 'how to wash your hands' poster. The edges were curling upwards.
He nodded, "a green motherfucker? What does that mean? Who was it?"
"That's the thing," the edges weren't seeking to stay in place, "we don't know. People, Jameson, has started calling him the Green Goblin. Like a street name, or something. It's bullshit, the asshole almost kills my sister and now he's walking around with a new fucking nickname."
"And Spiderman?"
"He's pretty cool. He saved MJ, he tried to save Dylan. He saved some people from a burning house on thanksgiving, I heard."
"Jameson doesn't seem to like him," Bruce commented.
"Jameson is like the 'Flash Thompson' of adulthood. He's not going to like anyone, especially someone who's stealing the spotlight from him."
Bruce nodded and leaned back, "how's my Sammy?"