Spider-Woman: Origin

Chapter 2

My fingers gently grazed the leather binding of the book before me. I took in the feel and the small ridges as my hand went down the length of the photo album. It had a smooth texture with intricate patterns along the spine. I pulled the book open and sniffled while also reaching for a tissue on the far corner of our coffee table. I struggled but my mother provided assistance by pulling the box closer within my reach.

"Thank you," I muttered, sounding stuffed with my blocked nose.

 The three of us sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch after deciding to browse the family photo album together.

My attention shifted to that of my sister on the other side of me as she let out a snicker. I turned to her and I found her peering down at the photo album laying open on the table before us. I finally looked to view a photo of the both of us when we were ten and five, dressed up as a hotdog and french fries for Halloween. I began to laugh with her despite the hollow feeling within my chest.

"Who came up with the idea for these costumes?" Jordyn wondered.

My laughter died down and I turned to her with my eyebrow raised. "Hotdog and fries, name a better duo," I challenged. I couldn't feign seriousness for long. She glared at me a moment before chuckling and I followed behind her almost immediately.

Our eyes reverted to the photo album again once the room fell into silence with our laughter winding down.

My eyes danced between the photos within the album, reminiscing the memories in them of the family dynamic we used to have. My father was in most of the photos, his burly figure immediately catching my eye with every photo I viewed. Some of the events within the photos replayed in my mind and I found myself trying to remember the sound of his voice and laughter but to no avail. I sighed in frustration and focused on something else.

Flipping the page, I decided to think about the awful jokes he used to make and his poor attempts to make us laugh. He was corny and he was kind. He was my best friend, but first and foremost -- he was my dad.

With every page after that point, my mother, sister and I began to reminisce the moments we shared together as a family, with my father being at the forefront of the things we shared. From family trips to things we did at home, we recalled and shared fond memories of him.

We laughed hard until we were clutching our stomachs and cried out of pure happiness and joy at the honor of sharing a life with such a man. Loss of a family member was something I knew was inevitable but nothing I was prepared for. Nevertheless, I was going to honor my father and remember him as he was.

I flipped to the last page remaining in the photo album to find a photo taken the day of my seventeenth birthday dinner. My eyes glanced around the entirety of the photo, from the restaurant in the background to all of our happy faces, unaware of the events that were going to take place that day.

My father, towering over us all, had a finger pointed at me while glaring at the camera. Meanwhile, my mom was staring at my father, oblivious of the bunny ears my sister created behind her head. And I was grinning from ear to ear with my eyes closed. My heart stilled at the sight and the realization of that being the last time we were truly a family.

A lump found its way to my throat. My attempts at swallowing it down were futile. Tears brimmed my eyes. "I miss him," I choked out. With those words, the tears fell. The women beside me quickly wrapped their arms around me. I welcomed their comforting gesture and clasped a hand on their arm.

For what felt like the thousandth time that day, I cried. My mother nor sister tried to silence or stop me, instead, they allowed me to feel every bit of emotion coursing through me.