I ducked just in time as my mother's phone sailed over my head and stuck solidly into the opposite wall. A spiderweb of cracks in the plaster splintered from the epicenter, nearly reaching the floor and the ceiling. I stared at the wall, then back at my mother. The fury on her face had turned to shock that mirrored mine.
"Siri..." she said, her voice full of remorse.
I ran.
Bilbo, my neurotic, ginger-colored cocker spaniel poodle mix, followed closely at my heels, tail between his legs. He was bonkers around other dogs and most people, but I wanted his company. I grabbed his leash on the way out the front door, winding it tightly around my hand and we headed aimlessly towards the center of town.
My mother had always had a temper, but it had gotten much worse since I had come home from New York. Talking to her on the phone in Stark Tower, was just a preview of her fury. I knew that my temporary disappearance wasn't the only reason she was so out of sorts.
Thor had been on Earth, and Loki. It was all over the news. My Asgardian brothers had been here, so close to her hiding spot.
She didn't know that I knew the truth that she was hiding. She didn't know that I knew that she had lied to me for almost twenty years. She didn't know I knew that she was keeping the fact that she kidnapped me, after stabbing me as a child, then exiled us on Earth, used magic to conceal our location.
I had come home to keep her happy, though that didn't seem to be working. Still, I tried. Because despite everything, the lies, what she had done, and her temper, I still loved her. It was down to my bones that I loved her. It was my very being, and there was nothing I could do to stop loving her. She was my mother.
It was a little bit of disbelief, too, on my part. S.H.I.E.L.D. was convinced she was this insanely powerful enchantress. Ok, so maybe she was Asgardian and had magic to hide us from Odin. Maybe she could live longer and heal herself if she got hurt. I could believe that. But Coulson's list was hilariously over the top: Spellcasting, energy projection and shields, teleportation, levitation, illusions, transmutation, life force absorption, time disruption, telepathy, telekinesis. Oh, and supernatural seduction. Of course, I laughed in his face.
I shivered despite the warmth of the late afternoon sunlight. I had wandered down to the rugby field. A huge man with huge hair and huge calf muscles wearing a polka-dotted uniform grabbed one of Aspen's rugby team members by the back of the neck and threw him down with little effort. The whistle blew. Right. It was Ruggerfest.
I sat down in the damp grass and pulled Pogo into my chest. He licked my chin gratefully. Gabe, dressed in the red and black stripes of the Aspen Gents was hunched over, hands on knees, breathing hard at the other end of the field. He'd gone to Australia for one week and then had turned around after finding out how cold it was during our summer months.
I hadn't watched any of his games this summer, and I had promised him I would watch at least one. The yearly tournament Aspen hosted called Ruggerfest seemed as good as time as any.
Golden aspen leaves fell on me when the wind rustled the trees overhead. The mountains towering over town were mottled with changing colors—reds, yellows, and oranges mixed in with the shades of greens. The sky was blue like only a Colorado sky could be. I breathed deeply, glad to be out of the house, away from my mother. I wished it felt good to be outside on such a nice autumn day. But I hadn't felt good, or warm, for months.
My leg had healed quicker than humanly possible, but my mind hadn't. Every time I tried to dance, I had a panic attack. I'd go to rehearsal or class, and as soon as the music started playing, I would find myself crippled with anxiety. It left me filled with shame to know that the other dancers, choreographers, and the director of the company had seen me multiple times, run out of the studio for seemingly no reason.
After a couple of weeks of daily panic attacks, I officially took the rest of the summer season off. That left me nothing to do, nothing to fill my days with, no purpose or anything to look forward to. Which, as you can probably guess, did not help my mental health. It was the worst I had ever felt, the lowest in my life.
I was mad at my fellow company members, the artistic director all telling me that it was ok to quit dancing. I was mad at myself for not being strong enough. And I was especially mad at my mother for what she would not tell me.
She wanted to know what the problem was. One season of missed dancing wasn't the end of the world. I had to persuade her that it was just dance-related depression, not stemming from a deep-seated fear that I had made the wrong decision to stay on Earth. I am not generally a great liar, so I distanced myself from her.
The distance scared her, and in turn, made her angry. The further I pulled away, the harder she clung. Me coming home to keep her happy was a joke. We were both miserable. All my decision to stay on Earth had gotten me was a fear of my own mother, loneliness, and an ulcer.
When I told her I had decided to move to New York she threw her phone at me.
Another Gent fell yards from where I sat. I heard the bodies smack one another as men piled on top. I still didn't quite understand the rules of the game. I got that it was a bit like football, but the problem was, I had no idea how football worked either. Rugby was rough. That much was clear. Gabe had broken his collarbone three times over the years of playing on the Gents' team.
The greasy hot smell of french fries and hamburgers wafted over from the over-priced, local-beef-using burger joint. It made me want to gag. My stomach already hurt enough as it was.
Bilbo watched, concerned, as the shadows of the leaves flitted over the grass, tracking where each one fell so he could destroy it later. He squirmed out of my arms and began to pull up mouthfuls of turf, tossing them to the side with pig-like grunts. His tail went wild. At least he was happy.
I pulled my legs into my chest, wrapped my arms around, and rested my chin on my knees. The sunlight played over my heavy closed eyelids.
The crowd clapped and cheered and Bilbo barked. I opened my eyes to see a blackbird had landed not five feet away. It was huge and its iridescent feathers reflected daylight. It perched, not startled by the racket my dog was making. It cocked its head, staring me down creepily.
Just what I needed, an ominous sign.
Bilbo pulled at his leash that was attached to my wrist in a sudden burst of energy. I closed my eyes again, ignoring the bird and all the black thoughts it brought me. Bilbo fought bravely against his leash, plucking my arm away from my legs in inches.
"Hi there buddy," a male voice intoned. Bilbo yapped more vigorously and I opened my eyes again, ready to reel my dog in before he peed on another stranger.
I didn't believe what I saw. My heart dropped, squeezed out all the blood, and then turned over in my chest. It was a trick. Or a nightmare. No, a dream come true. Anything but real. It couldn't be. I blinked into the sunlight, trying to get a better look at the man standing above me. It was just a trick of the light, I told myself. Not who I thought it was.
Bilbo gave up on trying to be ferocious and rolled over for a tummy rub. The man bent to comply.
It was no trick. It was Steve.
"Siri!" Another male voice called to me. It was Walter, my sixty-five-year-old step-father in his plaid old man shorts and a polo shirt with a beer in one hand, waving at me from down the sidewalk.
I stood up in a rush, and Bilbo twisted out from under Steve's hands to sit on one of my feet nervously, tail thumping. Steve stood up too, just as Walter arrived.
"Siri," Walter said again. He and I hardly talked, let alone in public. It was almost as strange to have him grinning at me with his dentures as it was having Steve freaking Rodgers petting my dog.
"Hi," I managed, turning to Walter, prepared to introduce Steve.
"Siri, I want you to meet, Steve Rodgers," Walter said, his face practically glowing with pride.
I froze. I wasn't sure if I had heard him right. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. My dorky billionaire grandfather-aged step-dad knew Steve Rodgers. He knew Captain America. When had they happened?
"Pleasure to meet you." Steve stuck out his hand. I stared at it.
Walter, sensing my hesitation but interpreting it the wrong way, clapped Steve on the back. "This here man is one of the greats. A real golden age hero." The old man waggled his eyebrows at Steve, who smiled reluctantly and put his empty hand away.
I wondered if this was actually happening. Had I finally cracked and gone insane? My heart had traveled into my throat. I tried to swallow it down.
"And this here, my dear, is Tony Stark, from Stark Industries." Walter shifted and Tony stepped into view. I hadn't even seen him, what with being distracted with the sky falling. And pigs flying.
Not only was Steve here, crashing my regular life, but Iron Man was here, too.
"I knew Tony's father way back. Howard. I told you about Howard Stark, didn't I, hun? He and I actually have the same name. His second middle name is Walter. Isn't that ironic?" Walter's grin was huge. I had never seen him so happy. I didn't have the heart to tell him that irony had nothing to do with it.
"Also, as a side note, I am Iron Man," Tony said.
"And his friends Bruce and Natasha, is it?" Dr. Banner smiled and nodded at Walter. Natasha Romanoff's eyes sparkled at me, enjoying this giant joke of a meeting.
"Siri?" Tony did not offer his hand. "Like the magic voice on the iPhone?"
"What's that?" Walter asked, inclining his head towards Tony.
"It's nice to meet you," Dr. Banner took my hand and gave it a squeeze and a pump.
"Pleasure," Romanoff...Natasha said, smiling a small private smile.
"Yeah," was all I could come up with. I licked my lips. My eyes darted between the four of them then stuck on Steve. I couldn't read his expression.
"...are here for Ruggerfest." Walter gestured to the field. I knew this had to be a lie. Bruce Banner was the only one who was watching the game knowingly.
The five of us turned as someone scored. I took a moment to breathe, check that my heart was still beating, that Bilbo was still there. To try to pull myself together. Okay. So people I thought I would never see again were here. And they knew Walter. And they were apparently best friends. And they were pretending to not know me. And they were here. Why were they here?
I noticed Gabe standing in the middle of the field, completely distracted by the group of men and one very attractive woman surrounding me.
The awkwardness went completely over Walter's head. "I thought we would take them to Brexi for an early supper. It's Emelia's favorite," he explained.
Oh yeah. Sure. Let's invite the Avengers to dine with my totally freaked enchantress of a mother. That wouldn't look fishy to her, right? The people who associated themselves with the god of thunder visiting her hiding spot. That's a fun combo.
"Sounds lovely," Bruce said, distracted by the game.
"Oh, she is!" Walter laughed at his own joke.
This couldn't be happening.
My mother was going to take one look at Iron Man and explode. And then the Hulk would probably explode, too. And then they'd demolish Aspen on accident.
But I couldn't think of what to say. Walter didn't know that I knew them. Walter didn't know his wife was an alien, either. Or did he? Did she know that Walter knew the people she hated and feared most? It was hard for me to keep it straight in my head; who knew what?
As if this couldn't get any more bizarre and complicated, Gabe half limped half jogged right off the field, towards us. Angry shouts from the other Gents and the coach followed him. Another player ran out to replace him, giving Gabe the bird.
"Gabe my boy!" Walter called him over, waving his hand. I had never seen Walter like this. It was like he was ten years younger, excited about life for the first time in years.
This was too much to handle. All the facets of my life, including the secret, uncomfortable ones, were crashing and overlapping, making things blurry.
"Hey!" Gabe's face dripped with sweat. He flung an arm over my shoulder, knocking me forward with its weight. I got a great whiff of armpit before I shrugged out from underneath.
"Who's your buddies, babe?" I scowled at the casual use of the pet name reserved for couples. Which we were not. I had to keep reminding him we were not together.
"Tony Stark," said Tony.
Gabe, the goofball he was, didn't recognize the name or the face. "Oh, cool, dude. I'm Gabrielle, angel of death. Of the great game. Of rugby." He said dramatically and then bowed awkwardly at Natasha. We stood silently, trying to figure out what he meant.
"Bruce Banner." Bruce shook his hand, breaking the tension, keeping the peace. "And my friend Natasha."
Steve eyeballed Gabe, from his hairy, beefy calves to the short athletic shorts, and the sweat-drenched jersey, and the ridiculous band he wore that pulled long hair off his face.
"Steve."
"Gabe." Gabe's chest puffed like a bro, trying to match Steve's size as they shook hands.
"Well, we are off to super. Tell your old man hello for me." Walter said, taking a long gulp of beer and sticking his free hand in his pocket to jingle loose change uneasily.
"Will do, Walter," Gabe said but didn't look away from Steve. "See you, babe." He leaned forward as if to peck me on the lips, and I leaned away just in time. There was a massive awkward moment between all of us until turned around and ran back to the sidelines to explain just why he had abandoned the game during the most important tournament of the season.
"Cute kid, babe," Tony said.
"Real cute," Steve added.
"Oh yeah. He's a good boy." Said Walter, finishing off his beer.
Steve and I walked up the steep hill towards the base of Aspen Mountain. Bilbo trotted behind Steve's ankles, forcing him to be careful where he put his feet. We were dropping the dog off at home and picking up my mother for dinner. Walter, Bruce, Natasha and Tony had gone on to the restaurant to pre-game the dinner at the bar. I couldn't stop looking at Steve as he matched my pace, despite the high altitude. I wasn't trying to walk fast; I wasn't in a hurry to show my mom what I found. Who I found. Steve was comfortable with my silence and the vigorous pace, taking in the sights of the circa 1900s brick buildings.
"Your leg looks better."
I snorted.
"So," he tried again, "how have you been?"
I bit the insides of my cheeks and ducked quickly behind an apartment complex, into an empty garden courtyard. A central fountain trickled happily. Leaves floated in the small pond underneath. I turned to face him.
"You want to know the truth?"
He took a step back, taken completely aback by the question and my sudden change of direction.
"Yes?"
"Fine. The truth is you were the one who drove away. And I lost my job to an annoying understudy. And I haven't slept more than four hours a night for months."
I hadn't been planning on doing this. I was going to keep myself together, pretend that I was fine here, that we were all just best friends for life. But months of stuffing everything inside for fear of my mother's temper and fear of S.H.E.I.L.D. had turned me into a land mine. Steve just stepped on me.
"So what about you, Steve? Hmm? What are you doing here? Why are you doing this? Don't you get how crazy my mother is? As soon as she realizes that Thor's buddies are here, she is going to freak. And I don't even know what that will look like."
When I was done, Steve was still standing, hands clasped behind his back, stony-faced. He had survived the explosion, indestructible as ever.
He stepped closer, impeding on my personal space. I stood my ground. He had only to incline his head a couple of inches to look me right in the eye. Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me to him.
"I'm sorry." I felt the words rumble in his chest, vibrate through me and warm me. I did not return the embrace. He didn't let me go, though. "It hasn't been a great summer for me either. But it's going to be ok, Siri. We will figure this out. She isn't going to hurt anyone, We won't let her. That's why we are here."
"What do you mean?" I pushed away from him reluctantly. "That's why you're here?"
"Fury sent us to scout her out and check on you."
"What!? Scout? What does that even mean? Like to see if you can take her out?! Don't you dare touch her. She is my mother."
"We aren't going to take her out. At least not until we have reason to believe she is a threat."
I was about to explode again.
"Hey, take a breath. I promise nothing is going to happen tonight. We are on our best behavior. Walter is our alibi. He worked with Howard Stark and helped start The Brotherhood of the Shield and was a part of the V-Battalion"
"So you are here...to what? Catch up?" I sighed. "If anything goes wrong—"
"It won't."
I tried to trust him.
Walter did a good thing, picking Brexi. The restaurant was my mother's favorite. It was also in public, so she was forced to behave. Well, let's just say she wouldn't throw her phone at anyone. Hopefully.
She was actually excited to see a handsome man, a friend of Walter's, escorting her daughter to the front door. It was as if our argument and the ensuing phone-throwing had been forgotten, though I saw Steve eyeing the cracked wall and small crater, now missing the phone. I was beyond relieved that she didn't recognize him as Captain America.
And Steve knew how to turn on the charm. He held doors, and called her Mrs. Eisen, and complimented her earrings. He flexed his arms when he caught her staring and put his hand on the small of my back, guiding me out of the dangerous street as we walked to the restaurant. He kept up polite conversation with her the entire walk. And she flirted back shamelessly. It was almost as if they'd both forgotten I was there.
Her good mood melted away when we arrived and she recognized Tony Stark sitting at the bar next to Walter. I could see the emotions play across her face: disbelief and shock. Did Walter betray her? Or was he just ignorant to all these connections? Her eyes narrowed, suspecting foul play.
"Emelia!" Walter stood when he felt the front door bring in the cooling evening air. He kissed her full on the lips. "I want you to meet my old friend's son."
Tony smiled a tight-lipped nod of a greeting.
"This is Howard's son, Tony. Tony, this is my wife, Emelia."
Dr. Banner stuck his head around Tony. "Oh! And his friend, Bruce. Here for Ruggerfest. Dropped by to say hello to an old friend. And his friend Natasha."
I tensed. My mother wouldn't recognize Bruce as being Hulk, but she might have seen Natasha's face on the news. She glared at Walter as he spoke, then suddenly switched gears. She pulled her shoulders back, puckered her lips slightly, and played with her hair, smiling at Bruce.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," said my mother, suddenly dripping with the essence of a woman I hardly knew. Right in front of Walter.
I gaped at her, but no one else seemed to react to the embarrassing display. No one except Banner, who looked like he was stuck in between feeling confused and flattered. He blushed and breathed a sigh of relief when she directed her attention at Tony.
She touched Stark's shoulder and batted her eyes while she told him what great work he does. He seemed unaffected. He thanked her politely, winking at Walter, and took a long sip of scotch. He drank two more after we were seated at our preferred table, and seemed more annoyed at the overall situation than ready for a fight.
Walter was either ignorant and blind or very forgiving. Or he pretended not to see. I squirmed in my seat trying to figure how to walk this tight rope. Part of me was selfishly glad to git to sit next to Steve again. I thought about reaching for his hand, like that morning after the attack on New York.
"So how do you guys know each other, exactly?" Natasha asked Walter, taking a sip of red wine and smiling at me with just her eyes. At least she was having fun.
"I was an intern for Stark Industries my sophomore year of college. Well, it wasn't called Stark Industries then. It was just Howard in his basement, being a genius. I helped subsidize the Industries. You could say I bought my way in." He laughed in Tony's direction. Tony looked like he wanted another drink. This was the quietest I had ever seen him.
"Howard wouldn't give me the time of day, at first," Walter continued. "A young green buck studying mechanical engineering. I had a thing for Howard's robots, though, and I knew I had to get in on it. We called it the Arsenal, the robots." Walter trailed off, staring through the walls of the restaurant, reminiscing.
We all sat, stunned. All except Tony, who just looked uncomfortable at the unearthing of his father's past. And my mother, who clenched and unclenched her jaw rhythmically.
The waitress knew our first names and our favorite dishes. We were a family of habit, coming here often and ordering the same plates. After ordering a salad, Natasha spun the conversation into motion again.
"Siri, I hear you are moving to New York."
My mother dropped her fork on the tiny appetizer plate, and food flew onto the floor. I knew this was a bad idea. I pinched Steve's arm, about to tell him I told you so, but waited a breath for her to flare up. She just stared at me, lips white.
"That's the plan," I squeaked.
"Our little bird is leaving the nest." Walter chuckled and leaned to one side to pull his wallet out of a back pocket. "That reminds me." He slipped a folded piece of paper out, unfolded it, and handed it to me. It was a google map printed out. It took me a second to figure out it was Manhattan. He had circled a block of the map in pencil and drawn lines to other spots on the map, starting at the circle and moving outward to spots he had underlined.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Your new address," Walter said.
"My...what?"
"I found an apartment in the West Village. It's out of range of the disaster zone, in a really artsy part of town. And safety rating is through the roof. The guy I bought it off was selling it for two-thirds of the original price. He just couldn't stand being in New York anymore. Not after the attack. But it's furnished and paid for."
I gaped at my step-father for a second. Then did what I had never done before: I hugged him.
"I thought I told you," my mother said at Walter through gritted teeth. "It's too dangerous for her."
"Nonsense," Walter forced another chuckle bravely as I sat down. "That's why I wanted to introduce you to my friends from New York. They've agreed to keep an eye out for her."
"Oh have they now?" My mother purred. "Isn't. That. Just. Cozy." She said stabbing her fork into Tony's salad and taking a bite.
"Everything tasting ok?" A waiter asked, breaking the tension. I looked up in shock. It was Coulson, with a twinkle in his eye.
"Mines a little cold," Tony said pointing to his salad. Walter laughed heartily at the joke.
My mother wasn't having it. "New here?" She asked Coulson.
"No, miss," he said. "Just returning. Took a trip to Tahiti. What a magical place."
"Everything's great, thanks," Walter said dismissively with a smile. Either he was a really good actor, or everything was just going right over his head. Coulson retreated, leaving a silence over the table.
I gathered my thoughts like sand. This was my chance to go to New York and pursue a dance career. Or at least try to dance again. This was my chance to be near Steve. This was my chance to get out from under my mother. I was not about to let it slip by me. Not again.
"You guys flying out tonight?" I said, avoiding my mom's eyes.
"As a matter of fact," Tony checked his watch. "We are leaving in two hours. Would you like a ride?" He stared directly at my mother as if daring her to argue.
"I can help you pack," Natasha offered.
"Yes please," I said.
"Absolutely not," my mother said at the same time.
"Emelia, honey, she's gotta go sometime," Walter said.
My mother looked like she wanted to set Tony on fire.
"Mom," I said, putting my hand on her arm. "I'll come back to visit all the time." She looked at me and seemed to soften, just a tiny bit.
"Besides, I've outgrown Aspen Santa Fe Ballet," I lied. It was an excellent company I was extremely lucky to be a part of. Had been. "Imagine coming to see me dance at the Met."
She covered her face with her hands. I was worried she would start crying, and guilt racked me. But before I could pull her into a hug, she smoothed a terrifyingly calm expression over her features.
"I see I'm outnumbered," she said. "You're an adult after all."
Everyone visibly relaxed and began eating again. Everyone except me and my mother.