desiderium | m. o'hara

thirty

  It's nice to do something mundane surrounded by mundane people for a change. The Spider-HQ is fascinating, but sometimes I wish I had my normal co-workers back with their normal office drama. Whose yogurt was stolen is far less worrying than the state of the messed-up multiverse.

  Rosalina pings to her feet. "Done!" She rushes to the door and grabs my hand along the way.

  Miguel's on patrol, so it's just us O'Hara girls heading to the festival. Rosalina's wearing sunglasses that are a tad too big for her that she has to keep hitching up. On her feet are her new favourite Spider-Man sneakers that Peter bought her - they match with Mayday's teeny pair.

  We take the subway to Central Park, since attempting to drive and then find a carpark would be a nightmare. Rosalina admires her new shoes and tells me about how she's making a 'lesson plan' to teach Peter Spanish. She'll start with food, of course.

  The festival is already in full swing by the time we arrive. Crowds clog the walkways and trample the grass into dirt. A Ferris wheel is set up, and so is a small roller coaster and bumper carts. Rosalina insists that we ride on all of them.

  We're halfway through munching down on some lunch between carnival games when my phone buzzes with a text. I hold my hotdog in one hand and pull it out of my pocket.

Miguel:
Are you two at home?
Sent 12:26pm

Me:
nope. at festival
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Miguel:
Be careful when you leave. Crimes bad up here recently
Sent 12:28pm

Me:
sir yes sir
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Me:
hey how do u think abt a big stuffed pony named dolores for your station at work
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Miguel:
🙄
Sent 12:29pm 

Me:
i'll take that as an enthusiastic yes
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  "Papita, smile for papa." I lift my phone to take a selfie of us. She beams at the camera and brandishes her cup of fries like it's a trophy. As soon as I drop my arm, she grabs a handful and stuffs her face with the salty, ketchup-y goodness. I snap another photo of our troublesome daughter.

  Snickering, I send the photos to Miguel. His response is instantaneous.

Miguel:
Cute
Sent 12:31pm

Me:
she gets it from me
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Miguel:
I know. My cute girls
Sent 12:31pm

  My heart flutters too fast for me to make a response. I tuck my phone away with a flustered smile and turn my attention to Rosalina, who's scooping out the last of the little fried nuggets at the bottom of the cardboard cup with the same intensity as a squirrel hunting for winter.

  "Where to next, Rosita?" I ask.

  Lunch finished, she takes my hand and leads the way through a row of festival games. We stop at each booth - throwing darts, shooting plastic guns, guessing which of the three cups holds a coin. It's a flurry of fun, and by the time the sun begins to dip low, both her and I are exhausted.

  I carry Dolores the pony and a few other carnival wins in my over-stuffed bag as we exit the park with a crowd of equally tired festival-goers. Rosalina snacks on a candied apple and holds my hand. I ponder what I might make for dinner - I hadn't organised anything this morning, and I imagine that Miguel's been busy all day. Rosita's probably thinking of more exciting things.