Arachnophobia ⇒ Peter Parker

thirty nine: la hacienda

                                                                         ONE MONTH LATER

     Tony, Steve, Sam, Peter, and I patiently waited as the rest of the group pilled out of their taxis. Peter and I lingered in the back of the group and shyly held hands. Permanently, I was living with Peter and Aunt May, and Tony had become my legal guardian. Many things had become familiar, and I was slowly adjusting. One of the beloved routines that I had come to acquire was unfolding in front of me.

     We arrived at the entrance of the restaurant. A small stairway that dug into the cement led downwards into the main entrance. In front of that, however, a small sign read, "La Hacienda". My heart swelled as I smelt the sweet aroma of my childhood. A soft hymn floated outwards from the door, filling our ears with vibrations of dancing fingers on guitar strings. All of the Avengers glanced over at me expectantly. I walked forward and pushed open the door.

     Ever since the first night in which I had suggested this restaurant, "La Hacienda" had become a ritual for us. Once a week we dropped everything we were doing and crowded around our usual corner table: third to the left, tucked behind the mariachi group. We always ordered the same dishes and drinks. Tony persistently finished his third horchata by the end of the night and Peter would always order flautas with extra creme in his broken Spanish. I would order for the rest of them.

     We would lose ourselves in the triviality of the moment. Wednesday at our favorite place had become sacred for all of us. It was a moment in which we could drop our worries and escape into the comfort of each other and the warm ambiance. Whenever I remember our first night here, a large smile comes to my face. It was as if it was yesterday:

     We were engulfed in the vibrancy of the interior. Waiters weaved in between tables and large groups bustled loudly. The whole restaurant was dimly lit in a warm yellow light. In the back, sizzling ovens and clanking plates buzzed like crickets. In the corner of the room, a mariachi band played "Son de la negra", a traditional Mexican folk song.

     The second it reached my ears, my heart began to race. The sweet melody ran from my head to my heart, pulsating throughout my entire body. The melodic singing told verses of abounding love, and the instruments emitted a rhythmic harmony of gently strummed chords. Conversations floated throughout the room in a deep, romantic tone of Spanish. I had only been without my culture for a quarter of a year, and I had not realized how much I would miss it.

     They sat us down and handed us a menu. The second everyone began to skim over the options, I was flooded with questions. (I explained almost the whole menu, replying as they asked questions like, "What is an horchata?", "What's the difference between an enchilada rojo and an enchilada verde con pollo?", and, worst of all, "What do they mean when they say that all dishes come with arroz y frijoles?")

     A waiter came over to our table cheerily, saying, "Bienvenido a La Hacienda. ¿Que quieren para beber?"

     "Vamos a tomar tres horchatas, dos aguas, quatro limonadas, y una cola," I spoke fluently in Spanish. The waiter thanked me kindly and scurried back into the mass of people and platters. I turned back around to face them with a wide smile on my face. They all stared at me like statues with wide eyes. They wouldn't break their gaze. Peter had even dropped the salt shaker that he had been playing with, leaving a mess of white grains on the wooden table.

     Thor was the first to break the silence. He asked, "Since when did you know Spanish?"

    "Since my infancy...? It's my native language," I replied skeptically. Had not a single one of them realized the accent that I had? I could barely understand my own English when I was yelling. Suddenly, a hand reached in between Sam and Bruce, placing a large basket full of savory chips in the middle. The tostadas were accompanied by an array of three salsas: one was a poignant red with a clumped texture from clusters of jalapeño seeds, another was a diluted green that was brimmed with shavings of a pepper, and the last was a pico de gallo that combined a flavorful mixture of diced vegetables.

     Tony reached forward and grabbed a chip, scoping out a confident scoop the scarlet salsa. I opened my mouth to warn him but the fatal crunch of the tostada rang out. It was too late. Tears collected in his eyes. He blinked them away, trying to hide the fact that his throat burned with the taste of the searing salsa that he had just gulped. Nobody noticed, and I was quick to bite my lip to hide back a string of bright laughter.

     Needless to say, Tony never tried the red salsa again. Tonight was just like any other. Everyone lost themselves in mundane conversation and we all picked away at our dishes. However, one thing had changed. For some reason, Tony's words had sprung from his lips all night with a youthfulness that I had never seen before. The whole night everyone had laughed booming laughter and smiled wild and loud smiles at each other. I had seen all of the team exchange furtive glances. I brought it up to Peter and he nodded, looking suspiciously over at Stark.

     Tony could barely contain himself as he began to speak. He reached his hand out and put it on top of mine before saying, "Rose, we've all been talking. Ever since the situation with the Scorpion, we've been trying to improve the safety of the Avengers. That said, you aren't one of us. You don't have a suit or any super powers. What I'm saying here, Rose, is that what happened a month ago can't happen again. Something has to change."

     I wasn't sure where he was going with his monologue. He glanced over at the rest of the team and received a small nod from each of them. He turned back to me.

     "We want you to become an Avenger."

     My jaw gaped. Had he really just invited me to become a part of the world's most powerful and exclusive superhero union? To think that a month ago I was a traitor and heretic of Stark Industries. If I agreed, I would become one of the most powerful people in the world. I would sacrifice everything and put my life on the line every single day. However, I knew that my everything lay in the people that surrounded me. Now, I had the opportunity to risk everything and give myself to them.

     Tony continued to explain the logistics. He told me about a suit he had designed especially for me. Peter had agreed to join the team earlier that day. I would continue to go to school but, with the principal's permission, would not have to complete any work outside of the classroom. I would be a high school student by day and a crime-fight superhero by night.

     I said, beaming, "Yes. I'll join."

     Tony extended his hand, and I did the same. Our grips laced and I shook firmly. The mere idea that I was now an Avenger was incomprehensible. The rest of the team smiled and Peter rested his hand on my shoulder.

     After receiving a word of congratulations from each other them, the night continued on as normal - aside from Tony's ramblings over my new suit and my role on the team. We lost ourselves in deep conversation.

    It was as that moment that I realized how different things would be in my life to come. I had finally found a place where I belonged.

    I was sitting on the table that was third to the left, tucked behind the mariachi group when I realized how glad I was that everything had happened the way it did. Whether it was the difficult moments when I felt like I had nobody or the wonderful moments that I had spent with a bright smile on my face, I didn't regret any of it. I would never again be that shy girl from Philadelphia, but for the first time, I was fine with that.

    I looked around at everyone else's faces. I watched their smiles illuminate beneath the ivory gold light and their words dissipate into the air with the incense and the aroma. I heard their warm laughter and received their gentle smiles. I saw them bend in to hear my words beneath the soft hum of the mariachi. And we were all together. And things had never felt so right.

    And finally, I had a home.