chapter 8

“Do you have any syrup, Aunt May?” Peter asked.

Peter sat at his Aunt’s table, looking at a stack of wheatcakes. It had been a few weeks since Peter gone to the gym for the first time. He never went back.

Pete’s Aunt was near the front door, occupied with a stack of envelopes from the mail. “Oh, I must have left it in the kitchen,” she replied.

“Oh, I’ll get it,” Peter said.

Peter went to get up from his chair at the table, but couldn’t get his heavy body up on the first try. He grunted as he tried again, successfully getting to his feet. As he reached the swinging door to the kitchen, one side of his belly bumped into the door frame. He noticed how his huge form almost completely filled the narrow doorway. His stomach growled before he had time to reflect further on this.

It took some time for Peter to find the syrup, searching through the fridge and the cupboards. While he was doing this, he heard the doorbell ring. With syrup in hand, and growing terribly hungry, he pushed through the door, into the dining room. What he saw there stopped him in his tracks.

Mary Jane stood inside the front door, talking to Aunt May. When Peter appeared, their conversation stopped abruptly. MJ’s eyes opened wide.

Peter walked, or rather waddled, toward his ex-wife.

“Um, I have some… things I have to clean up,” Aunt May said, and quickly retreated into the kitchen.

“Hi MJ,” Peter said softly. “You look great.”

He could see MJ’s gaze traveling up and down his body.

“Peter,” she said after a long silence, “what happened to you?” She met his gaze, and her eyes held a tremendous sadness. “What have you done to yourself?”

Peter forced a smile as he shrugged. “I guess you noticed that I may have put on a little weight.”

“A little weight?” MJ said, her tone incredulous. She reached out and placed a hang on the bulge of his gut. “Are you trying to eat yourself to death, Peter? May told Aunt Anna that you had put on weight, but I… I never expected this.”

Peter had to look away from her. She seemed even more beautiful than he remembered. “It’s ok, MJ. I know it’s a… shock… but I’m alright.” He looked back to meet her eyes. “Really.”

She was silent, staring at him with those sad eyes. Was it pity? Peter couldn’t stand it. He had to change the subject to something other than himself.

“So how are you doing, MJ?”

MJ’s mouth formed a thin, straight line, and her eyebrows furrowed. It was a look he had seen many times before, whenever Peter was evasive.

“I’m seeing someone,” she said. “He’s a wonderful man.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Peter said, forcing a smile. “That’s great!”

Mary Jane’s gaze dropped down to his giant stomach for several long seconds, and then Peter was looking into those sad eyes again.

“Well, I guess this explains why there haven’t been any sightings of Spider-Man in almost a year,” she said.

Peter nodded. His face grew flushed, and he twiddled his chubby fingers together on the peak of his mountainous gut.
“Peter, please take care of yourself,” MJ said, and turned to leave.