Chances

Chapter One

Chapter One: The Family

"Nothing is predestined. The obstacles of your past can become the gateways that lead to new beginnings." -Ralph H. Blum

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 "Hey, Monica," Grandma yells from the back porch, "Your mom called; she's on her way."

 "Okay!" I shout back from the garage.

 I start to put away my tools. I was hoping to be able to work with my suit before mom got here, but my grandpa needed the flood lights for the back patio fixed. With a bit of tinkering, the lights will now turn off after 30 seconds of detecting motion instead on 30 years. As soon as my tools are back in my tool box, I push a stray hair out of my face and head towards the house.

 "Mon, you have to get cleaned up! You have oil on your face," Grandma exclaims with one glance at me. "I can't have your mother thinking we don't take care of you!"

 "Grandma, she lives with the world's greatest tinkerer; I think she would be a bit used to a bit of motor oil," I chuckle but still head towards the bathroom.

 I wet a wash cloth and scrub the black streak of oil off of my cheek. I run a brush through my dark hair. I hear a doorbell ring downstairs. With a quick adjustment of my flannel over-shirt, I hurriedly rush through the hallway and head back downstairs.

 "Mom!" I cannot attempt to hide the smile stretching across my cheeks. 

 "Monica," My mom embraces me in a tight hug.

 "I've missed you," I mumble into her shoulder.

 "I've missed you too," My mom releases me from the hug.

 "Hey! It's Pepper!" Grandpa bellows, walking into the foyer.

 "Hey, Dad," Mom hugs her father.

 "Your mom is cooking dinner-"

 "Dinner's ready!"

 "Never mind, it's ready," My grandpa pushes his glasses up on his face.

 "There's my beautiful daughter," My grandma hugs my mom as we enter the dining room.

 "Mom, how long are you staying?"

 "Four nights," My mom answers as we sit down at the dinner table, "Tony is in DC for this week and I told him I had a business meeting in Seattle."

 Grandma brings in a big pan of lasagna and sets it in the middle of the table. A basket of bread is served as a side as we load up our plates.

 "So, Pepper, how was recovering? I hope you got our get well basket," My grandma asks, referring to when my mom was injected my Extremis.

 "Well, and I did. The chocolate, flowers, and movies really were perfect for recovery," My mom nods as she takes a bite of pasta, "Tony even decided to have the pieces of shrapnel removed from his chest."

 "Finally!" My grandma comments enthusiatically, "What was he waiting for?"     

 "I don't know," My mom responds as she secures a piece of lasagna on her fork, "Monica, how is school?"

 "I'm still taking the online courses for my bachelor's degree in mechanical engineering," I nod.

 I had graduated high school almost 3 years ago. I couldn't help I exceeded most of my 18 year old senior classmates at just the age of 15. My mom said I had gotten my brain from my father's side of the family; my love of engineering and outstanding grades didn't prove otherwise.