Chapter Text
X 🪦 X
For most of her sixteen years, Wednesday believed that the futility of the corporeal form could not be overstated. She wasn’t susceptible to religious beliefs; her mind was a fortress too well fortified to fall for the propaganda of priests, shamans, or the like. Instead, she tried to marry the science of the known, physical world with the phenomena she experienced as an outcast, always questioning – never fully subscribing to one theory or another. The mystics and the philosophers were entitled to their theories or doctrines; perhaps physical body was a home for a spirit - something eternal and everlasting. It was a comforting thought, anyway – that one persisted after death.
But Wednesday had to focus on what she knew, instead of what she wanted to believe. What she knew was that for the last sixteen years until an untold number in the future, she was a being of flesh, blood, and bone. She was made up of energy, and that someday, she would die – and everyone she had ever met would die as well. Upon death – flesh would decay, blood would drain (fingers crossed that her death was gruesome enough for that), bone would break down, and the energy within would be transformed – spread out in the universe in a way that was new.
Therefore, she tried not to allow herself to be too caught up in the tedium of the human experience. For such a short time that the energy within her was to be fastened to the corpse she would become, Wednesday chose to focus on productive activities that stimulated her present host. Learning the most famous cello compositions ever written, disproving conventional acceptance of local conspiracies, writing her original mystery horror content, experimenting with medieval torture devices, dueling with the sword, and any other matter of training in weaponry were valuable endeavors.
Her hobbies were on the higher end of the human spectrum of abilities, and she prided herself in them. Her hobbies were also intentionally selfish. Aside from needing a partner for her fencing, all of her trivial pleasures were solo activities. Wednesday never wanted to rely on someone else to engage in the sports or artistic whims she enjoyed. Other people could disappoint her. Betray her. Or leave her – including that most permanent exit of death. She’d experienced all of that since starting at Nevermore and had renewed her conviction to being perpetually alone in the world.
There was one pursuit that seemed exceptionally trivial when everyone was a general of their own life, staring down the spoils of a temporary victory. Despite growing up with two of the most disgustingly in-love people acting as the primary caregivers of her personhood, Wednesday saw the romance of Morticia and Gomez Addams as a deficiency of the human condition. To Wednesday, spending the blip of time on the never-ending wheel of it sharing such a deep connection with another animated skeleton, was a poor use of that limited time. Wednesday was always remembering death, just like the Romans. To give up so much of one’s soul to another, when at any moment, they could be ripped away from her – that was a torture that even she did not want to test to withstand.
Each time she started to draw too close of a relationship with another in lieu of advancing her future remains, Wednesday merely had to think – memento mori.
X 🪦 X
Wednesday should have supposed that Enid had at least a small appreciation for old-timey movies given her collection of decades-old werewolf-themed movie posters on her side of the room. Due to her lack of insightful commentaries on the beloved classics, Wednesday had assumed they were there for aesthetic purposes, or maybe just out of werewolf tradition. Enid had never offered an explanation and being herself – Wednesday had never brought them up to build a connection.
Yet, about a month after ‘swearing off boys for good’ after her latest breakup with someone who simply didn’t treat her how she deserved to be treated – Enid came into their chilly dormitory with a poster in hand, wearing a warm smile along with her jacket. Immediately, the room felt a little less drafty.
“Hey!” She chirped, turning on more of the lights on her side of the room, brightening the pre-winter afternoon. “I’ve got something fun for us to do this weekend!”
With a practiced exhale and forcing her shoulders from pinching up to her earlobes, Wednesday reminded herself – Enid meant well. She stood up and approached her with silent footsteps. “You use that word so frivolously,” Wednesday said in a quiet tone, nodding her chin at the paper. Enid beamed and passed it over, then shimmied out of her jacket, depositing it carelessly on the side of her bed and untying her bright pink utility boots (an upgrade from the platforms – far more practical, even if the color still resembled chewed bubble gum).
Wednesday lifted an eyebrow under her bangs, grateful for the cover of hair over any slight betrayal of emotion that could grace her features. Enid was close to her again, her hands behind her back as she twisted delightedly, her lips pressed together in a knowing way. “So…? Too frivolous for you?”
“Surprisingly, no. Classic film festival,” She read the title, as if Enid wasn’t aware. As she spoke, Thing clambered up to her shoulder to take a look, excitedly tapping on her shoulder. “You do love The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. These are some real classics, Enid – a century old, some of them.”
“Werewolves love old campy horror, related to us, of course, even if they are filled with stereotypes – but I figured, you love all classical things, probably cinema too?”
“Cinema,” Wednesday echoed, trying not to let a smile appear on her lips. “I do, enjoy old cinema to a point. Sometimes it’s hard to, when I see a silver screen legend who died too soon due to the abuse of the industry.”
Enid’s face fell a little.
“On top of the misogamy, racism was used as entertainment in a lot of old films. Sometimes, we put the originals on a pedestal to be admired, when really, they are like a warning to be heeded.”
“Uh, I just – I thought maybe we could…it seemed like…never mind. I’m sure you already had weekend plans anyway.” Enid tried to reach for the paper, but Wednesday held it up to her chest, giving her a rare blink.
“I didn’t say we shouldn’t go.” Wednesday stared down at the list once more. “I’m sure you’ve got theater or dance or some sort of artistic pursuit of your own, and of course, I my usual haunts, but there are several titles here that I haven’t seen, though have read about in my father’s collection of classic horror film history. If our schedules align, I would be interested in attending with you.”
She watched Enid’s somewhat defeated expression immediately shift into a shimmer of hope. “Okay! Let me just – whoop!” She almost slipped on the floorboards, moving so quickly to scramble for her phone, reading off the times when she had upcoming practices that weekend.
“Sounds like Saturday night would work best for both of us. I was going to get a jump-start on next chapter of my novel, but I suppose I could sacrifice some writing time for the sake of being potentially inspired by old storytelling.”
“And bonding with your bestie,” Enid giggled. “So, Saturday night…there are three theaters playing the classics for the ‘fest – oh I’ve seen this one!” She pointed to the werewolf-sounding drama, which made sense. “But not the other two. Which would you prefer?”
“I believe The Uninvited was well received at the time of its release. Yes, we could potentially make it a double feature,” She said as she acknowledged Thing tapping the title after.
“Ah, there’s a werewolf in that one, too!” Enid gasped excitedly at her own knowledge. “Dr. Terror's House of Horrors…Wednesday, that sounds like your idea of a Barbie Dream Home!”
“If we’re sit through two films, perhaps we should escape the prison-style food of the weekend staff coverage in the dining hall and have a proper meal in Jericho prior to the show.”
“It’s a date!” Enid rocked on her toes then flushed as Wednesday’s eyes darted up to hers immediately. “I mean…you know, on the – calendar. We’re booked for Saturday! Dinner and movies!”
Forcing her body not to exhibit emotion about the mild flub in any fashion, despite her heart suddenly beating in double time, Wednesday knew Thing sensed her distress at Enid’s initial presentation of the evening by the way he not-so-subtly squeezed her shoulder.
Enid was visibly holding back from reaching for her and Wednesday simply gave a nod. It was…a date on the calendar – Saturday.
X 🪦 X
Wednesday stared Thing down with a glare and her arms crossed. “What do you mean, what am I wearing? We’re going to the show to watch movies from the 1940s, and odds are it’ll be Enid, myself and six geriatrics who fall asleep halfway through the movie.”
Thing crossed his fingers, in a gesture that was very much, ‘I don’t know – just thought you might want to dress up for your date.’
“You’re an absurdist. It’s not a date, Thing. She’s my roommate, and we’re going to a film. We’re only going to dinner first because I refuse to partake in the reheated, prepackaged food the cafeteria thinks is passable on a Saturday night.”
‘Sure, sure,’ He flipped a thumb up then down in a near sigh.
Rolling her eyes, Wednesday stomped over to the closet, second guessing herself. She’d come back from a long, Saturday afternoon fencing session with Bianca that had left her in a sheen of sweat – showered and pulled on cargo pants with a black and white striped sweater. It was the late fall. What else was she supposed to wear to the movies with her best friend?
Thing skittered into the smaller room, tugging on a prim, long sleeve dress with a little velvety, textured spider motif along the bodice above the waist. “That’s for something nice – like a public humiliation ritual against a politician. And I’m not wearing nylons to the movies.” Thing dragged one finger slowly along the other below the knuckle and Wednesday slammed her own palm against the brick wall in a threatening gesture of you’re next. “I’m not showing a little leg, either. If you don’t stop infuriating me, I’m going to deposit you in brother’s room, and I hear he’s started a fungus competition with Eugene. I’m sure your lithe skin would be just right for them to attempt a fast-growing potion on.”
Closing the door on him, she was about to huff her way to the balcony when Enid popped in from her pep practice, wearing a ridiculous purple and yellow uniform, looking like a very tender bruise. “Sorry – we were getting yelled at for not smizing enough in the routine, I’m going to be ready so fast, you won’t even believe it!”
Thinking that was absolutely right, that she refused to believe Enid was capable of a quick change, as Wednesday had watched her struggle between which two identical white tops to wear under her jumper for class the day before, she let her disappear with an armful of pink fabric down the hall. Sighing and feeling a twist of nerves, starting to regret accepting Enid’s invitation, Wednesday fiddled with an old choke pear from her desk drawer. She wished she’d put it in her mouth and gagged herself instead of agreeing to a night out. Either way – what pain, but at least with the implement from the middle ages, it would’ve been quick.
She lost herself and time to the torture device, genuinely surprised when Enid returned in her obscenely pink robe, her hair down and fluffy. Dropping the tool into her desk drawer as to avoid questions, Wednesday observed as she hastily braided little strands of her hair near her ears and hummed to herself. She slid black heart clips on the sides to hold them back and turned to smile at Wednesday. “Casual’s cool with you, right? I mean, I’m sure your family like, dresses to the gothic nines for actual theater – but this is just old movies so…?”
“They have reclining seats and forty-ounce slushies. It’s not that type of theater.” Wednesday was about to bend Thing’s fingers back as she proved that she had made the right call as she let him out of the closet and he pouted by crossing two fingers like a toddler crossing their arms.
Enid came out in an oversized yet cropped sweater that was a nearly vomit-inducing shade of violet, with thin purple and blue stripes all over it, and a pair of blue corduroy pants that were the same hue that was in her top. She added black combat boots, and Wednesday had to wonder if that was her influence. She put on a touch of shiny lip gloss then posed with her hands on her hips. “Ready!”
As she’d ever be as well, Wednesday added a fall jacket over her sweater, opening her backpack for Thing (after a warning glare of – not a word regarding the teasing) to make himself comfortable for the walk into town.
Enid was predictably babbling about her day – they had separated after breakfast and her social calendar had been jam packed. At the end of her little ramble as they made it to the trail that took Nevermore students to town, she paused, looking at Wednesday brightly. “But this is for sure the best part of the day!”
“High praise,” Wednesday replied, leading them in the dark, more than familiar with Jericho by night than Enid, even if her enhanced vision would’ve made it easier to navigate. Trying to find something to talk about herself out of the social politeness of taking turns, she decided on a question she’d had since Enid walked into the dorm room. Her tier three vocabulary usage was always evident in her speech, and it was rare that Wednesday found herself not knowing the meaning or entomology of a word unless it was from the internet. Giving into her curiosity for Enid’s slang, she boldly asked, “What is smizing?”
“Smiling with your eyes,” Enid piped up with a happy pitch, then gently slugged Wednesday’s shoulder with her own. “You do that sometimes, even if it doesn’t reach your mouth. Most people have the opposite problem.”
“I don’t follow,” Wednesday said, crossing her arms, not liking the accusation that she gave off any sort of joy detection – she much preferred the use of forty-seven muscles for frowning over unlucky thirteen to smile.
“Back in the nineteen hundreds, there was a supermodel named Tyra Banks, and like many celebrities at the time, by the early two thousands, she got a reality TV show. It was called America’s Next Top Model. Have you ever heard of it?”
Wednesday shot her a look of what do you think?
“She basically taught other young hopeful models how to be better at hitting the runway and have a good chance of getting hired. One of the most famous tricks she taught that stuck, is by smizing – letting your smile reach all the way up to your eyes so that people think it’s genuine. You, Wednesday, do the opposite. Sometimes, when you’re happy, you of course don’t want anyone to know it. But those of us who know the real you can see it in your eyes – you do light up just a little bit, even if you’re not smiling with your mouth.”
Offering a glare to disprove her, Wednesday had to avoid letting her eyelid twitch when Enid giggled anyway. “I think I can read all of your eye gazes. This one is ‘pretending to be annoyed’ but also ‘secretly just a little bit flattered that someone knows you so well.’”
“That’s stalker behavior, Enid,” Wednesday grumbled – they were both more than familiar with that.
“Actually, it’s bestie behavior, know the dif,” Enid wrapped a playful arm around her shoulders. She probably knew that Wednesday was only pretending to tense up at the gesture but had the social grace not to say anything else about it.
They arrived at the restaurant with about ten minutes to kill before their reservation, and Wednesday was tempted to use that time for actual killing outside as pesky squirrels ran up and down the sidewalks, collecting the last of nature’s harvest before the winter. Enid let out a little sigh as she watched as well. Wednesday gave her a new look, a curious one as Enid was actually staring past the vermin. “Why weren’t you smizing at practice?”
“Huh? Oh, I guess I was just…distracted.”
“By what? The investigation?” Wednesday hoped, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Maybe not in public,” Enid whispered with a less than subtle shushing sign to her lips. “But later, for sure, we can go over what we know before bed, I know you’re eager to bounce ideas off someone. No – I…I don’t know. I was just – like, mentally here, already, I guess. I was just excited to spend the evening with you!”
She drew her hands together in front of her, wiggling back and forth a little and Wednesday forced a blush she felt starting on her chest not to rush up her neck to her cheeks. Grateful for her oversized turtleneck collar on her sweater as her biology betrayed her, she nodded when her last name was called, letting Enid walk first behind the hostess at one of the nicer Jericho restaurants.
Thing slipped out of her backpack when she opened it in the booth, situating a menu standing up for him to hide behind. The lighting was dim, and Wednesday glanced up over the specials of the day, trying not to let her stare linger on Enid. She moved her head back and forth a little bit, pressing her lips together in her decision-making process, pursuing before closing the list of options with a giggle. “Who am I kidding? I need a steak! Thank goodness you suggested this, I think my iron would’ve dropped if I had to eat at school.”
Wednesday just looked at Enid and she tilted her head a little when a minute passed and she didn’t say anything. “What? Can’t read my eyes right now?” Wednesday wondered cheekily after the discussion on the way there.
Enid’s brow contorted beneath her wispy bangs to a face that read just the slightest amount of trouble. “Hm, it’s not that – I’m just thinking about how they’re the most perfect, chocolate brown – especially in this light.”
Not expecting the compliment, Wednesday knew that her flush was rising past the collar of her shirt. She wanted to run – but instead deflected to a story that defied the kind words. It involved a rare swear, but that alone would keep Enid from saying anything else nice about her. “One of the resource officers at my school once told me that the reason that my eyes are so brown is because I’m so full of shit.”
Enid’s jaw dropped. “That’s bullshit! I hope you taught him a lesson in your own idea of law enforcement.”
“I swapped his baton with a similarly shaped canister filled with bees, and the lid came off when he was abusing his power over teenagers. It turned out he was allergic to bees – I was relocated after that incident.”
Enid shrugged. “I mean, glad you got your revenge, but - still, I’m sorry. Adults shouldn’t make a situation worse like that.”
Wednesday glanced down at the menu to continue diverting divert the topic. “Administration thought that assigning me to a male officer would solve a problem, thinking I would be submissive to a man.”
“As if, the only person you’re submissive to is me,” Enid giggled and once again – Wednesday didn’t think she realized the impact of her words. Holding the menu up higher, she turned a page, pretending to be enthralled by the summaries of the embarrassingly basic dishes the Vermont dining experience had to offer.
Dinner went on with Enid mostly discussing upcoming events. Two weeks post midterms, their schedules were about to become grueling. Wednesday could hardly wait – though she almost found herself feeling a touch of an unfamiliar sensation of wistfulness as Enid described her jam-packed days. Most of the time, they’d only be together before or during class until the evening with dueling sports and hobbies. “We’re just going to have to stay up late, curled up over our evidence under a blanket fort and whisper our investigation secrets,” Enid said after Wednesday paid the bill with her father’s money.
Her roommate truly had no idea the impact of her loaded statements that evening as the idea of being curled under a blanket with Enid gave her a flutter of a nearly horrific feeling inside.
“If I’m cuddling anywhere, assume I’ve been poisoned.”
Teasing her even further, Enid stood and let Thing jump into the inside pocket of her jacket. “You’re the one saying cuddling. Makes me think you do want in,” Enid opened her arms playfully and Wednesday gave them a whack with an eyeroll before reaching back without looking, dragging her one wrist along to the theater.
It was up just four blocks and the wind had picked up over the time that had passed. She held her upper arms slightly, clenching her jaw in the chill, thinking it was about time to switch to her warmer jacket. Enid elbowed her and winked. “You sure about that cuddle, Wednesday?”
“You won’t have arms to make that offer if you keep taunting me,” She said without any feeling, making Enid let out another giggle.
“That’s okay, you’d just be doing a lot of unwanted cuddling as you move my torso from point A to point B – because if you think I’d boss you around any less without arms or legs, you’d have another thing coming!”
Trying to match her energy, Wednesday wondered, “Who said I was taking your legs? Femur bones are notoriously far more effort to remove.”
There was a giddiness to Wednesday that she didn’t show but reflected on, that after spending so much time together, Enid could playfully talk about dismemberment as they arrived at the movies. Once again insisting on paying for everything, Wednesday let Enid do the talking for tickets to their double feature, merely putting cash on the counter. Arriving in the correct auditorium, she did confirm that they were absolutely the youngest audience members in attendance. Enid made herself cozy in the recliner, then lifted the armrest between them up, wiggling her brows and opening her arm. “Last chance to get in on the action!”
“I have sharps in my pockets,” Wednesday warned her, and Enid just smiled, stretching out, letting her knee fall open as she slouched in the recliner, mere millimeters away from Wednesday’s thigh.
Thing got situated on her shoulder, flipping a braid behind her hair. Irritatingly, there was an announcer – the person in charge of the classic film festival came up in front of the small audience. Wednesday quickly counted – twenty-nine in attendance, more than she expected, but indeed – she and Enid were the only youths. The manager discussed the original critical reception of the film, and Wednesday tried to send him daggers with her eyes, that if he didn’t get a move on, he was going to be on the receiving end of critical care.
Finally, the lights dimmed, and old-timey orchestra swelled, credits rolled and Wednesday largely tuned into the film until she didn’t.
She found herself almost impossibly distracted from the film by Enid’s reactions to it beside her. She was grinning, tilting her head, even giggling a few times when it wasn’t funny, because the eighty-year-old movie had aged in a near comical way at points. Though Wednesday paid enough attention to the plot to keep up with everything happening, she found herself unable to lose herself in it, no matter how hard she tried.
Wednesday tugged Enid out to the hallway when the announcer came back up as the final credits on the film reel rolled, not in any mood for a post-movie reflection with someone in the business. Instead, she wanted Enid’s unfiltered thoughts. It was far more interesting to hear from her friend, who didn’t have any sort of background in classic film, than someone who pretentiously studied it in school.
“That was neat! I mean, kind of slow. The character Stella totally shares your fashion sense,” Enid gleefully recalled, “The little black dress with the big, lacy white collar? Very Wednesday. But – I’m surprised that you’d like old movies like that. Certainly, it was nothing scary,” Enid giggled. “I know that at the time, they didn’t have CGI and overblown Hollywood budgets; they probably filmed that in like – three and a half weeks instead of taking eight months to film just eight fifty-minute episodes of a show like they do now. But it was good!”
“You weren’t bored?” Wednesday wondered, pacing a little along the horrifically clashing carpet of the foyer.
“No, because I was totally reading into it by today’s standards,” Enid wiggled her eyebrows. “I totally think Miss Holloway was feelin’ a little something for Mary!”
“Actually, you might not be wrong on that,” Wednesday recalled from her father’s classic film collection review guide. “Paramount even had to put out a statement that they didn’t ‘intend to convey a message of lesbianism’ in The Uninvited when it was originally released.”
Enid bounced on her toes. “Eek! Okay, that is so funny because now that I’ve sworn off boys, I’ve totally been thinking – why haven’t I just been open to girls? Like, I already love girls so much more, and I have thought so many girls are so pretty – and now, maybe I even have a little bit of gay-dar? How fun is that!”
Wednesday found herself nearly in a state of shock by Enid, and not in the electrical way she enjoyed. “Did you just come out to me in the middle of the classic movie festival at the Jericho community theater?”
“Uh, maybe? I don’t know,” Enid flushed but grinned, clearly not bothered by it. “I don’t really know that I need a label, but I do know that I’m so done putting myself in a box for boys. I’m not exactly looking for a romance right now, but the next time that I am? I’m going to be a lot more open about it!”
Thing jumped over and gave her a squeeze in congratulations, and Wednesday felt like someone had glued her feet to the floor and wired her jaw shut. She had no idea how to respond to that, other than a quick nod to breaking traditional norms. “Enid, you are too unique of a person to portray yourself as one built for societal pressures of compulsory heterosexuality. Regardless of their gender, anyone who is fortunate enough to earn your favor will treat you with the proper admiration and respect, or there will be consequences.” Enid appeared both proud of herself and almost a touch shy. Wednesday looked at her dead in the eye for a long, nearly uncomfortable moment as she took her turn to read Enid’s intentions just by looking at the flicker of light in them. “You don’t actually want to see the next movie, do you?”
There was long exhale and Enid cringed. “I gotta confess, that was fine – but honestly, I just wanted something fun for us to do together that we could talk about that wasn’t the investigation. I’m sorry, Wednesday – I did enjoy it, and I love, love, love being your partner in detective work but –”
Truthfully, after her confession, and with her own twisted up energy, Wednesday didn’t want to sit through another classic film, either. “You didn’t have to force yourself to do something you didn’t want to do just to spend time with me that wasn’t spent solving riddles,” Wednesday said as she led Enid towards concessions. Having just eaten dinner upon arriving, they didn’t indulge – but Wednesday knew Enid wanted it. Second movie or no, she’d have it. Buying her a small popcorn, she led her out the front door, where Enid popped the first few buttery pieces in her mouth. “I appreciate that you found something that I’d be interested and wanted to do it with me, but don’t torture yourself on my behalf. I can think of far better ways to do that which would be more fun for me than old movies.”
Enid coughed a little on a kernel before shrugging. “It wasn’t a bad way to spend the evening. I just love being with you and don’t want to torture you. You’re my favorite person – you’re my best friend. I just want you to be happy.”
“Happy is relative. But I suppose it’s the closest to what I feel when I spend an evening with you.”
The walk back to Nevermore was thankfully spent discussing the movie’s practical effects more in-depth, Wednesday talking more than usual as she knew about the old-time tricks the editors would use to create illusions well before computers. Back in their room, Wednesday figured Enid would get on her phone, roll over and start non-stop texting, or head down to visit someone else. Instead, Wednesday was surprised as she started moving some furniture around, then pulled the bedspread off the top of her mattress, and then Wednesday’s quilt, combining them all, tossing pillows in and –
She made the blanket fort she’d teased about earlier.
Opening the bottom desk drawer, Enid took the small binder of evidence from their latest investigation, clearly deciding to let Wednesday have some actual fun in the way she enjoyed most. “You coming?”
Almost letting her lips turn up, sure she was smizing, Wednesday followed her into the blanket fort. Instead of sitting stiff-backed and square shouldered like she would have if forced to partake in such teenage trivialities a year before, Wednesday scooted in and sprawled out on her stomach.
Enid started flipping through their photos and written logs, mumbling about potential connections they’d already made. Wednesday largely tuned her out, finding herself distracted by how close they were lying side by side, elbows touching. It was overstimulating – to be so close, to share such personal space, especially when Enid had been so vulnerable in front of her earlier.
She glanced at Enid – a stolen look, and then suddenly, recoiled.
Instead of her best friend – the blonde hair with tooth-rotting cotton-candy streaks…she suddenly saw not Enid, but…just a tombstone, with Enid’s name etched on it. An impersonal epitaph, generic, nothing about who she was as a person…no overt, grandiose display of power or strength she pulled from her werewolf form, just a bland, pale-cement headstone. Not the girl – alive, heart beating, eyes smizing, giggle lodged in her throat – but…
Enid, dead.
Not even dead – buried.
Gone already, six feet under - nothing but memories and dirt.
The intensity of the imagery felt like vision, but it wasn’t something from the universe meant to haunt her. The corrosive sight had been her own better judgement, reminding Wednesday of what was to come – what would happen to all of them.
Whatever she’d started to feel, spiraling into a pit in her gut, or worse – her heart, it was not meant to be there. The pain that it would be, to accept whatever torment was clawing at her to reach out and explore – that could never compare to losing Enid.
Feeling like she had whiplash all of a sudden, Wednesday’s body betrayed her with a gasp when Enid gently touched her wrist. Taking in the very live, very concerned look of her best friend, Wednesday swallowed thickly and sat up suddenly. “What’s wrong? Am I totally off-track? Did you just have like…an awake vision?”
“I…need the facilities,” Wednesday scrambled up and dashed to the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink, turning on the water to run. She ripped a paper towel out of the holder with force, getting it wet, squeezing it out, and putting it on the back of her neck to give herself any other sensory input than the panic of the awful realization crushing her chest.
It didn’t help, but after forcing herself to breathe and biting down on her tongue so hard that the familiar, blessed taste of copper filled her mouth – she was able to return to herself a little more. Needing to return to Enid, the source of the problem, was going to feel like an act of humility.
If she had a tail, it would be tucked between her legs as she came back into the room silently. Enid was whispering to Thing, who lifted a thumb – indicating he didn’t have an answer to whatever she’d wondered.
Wednesday slinked down into the blanket fort, looking at her best friend with an unblinking gaze. Enid just shrugged. “Are you okay? Did I say something?”
“You did nothing wrong. I just need to remember the repetitive wisdom that the victorious Roman generals would receive riding in their chariots after the spoils of war were claimed in their name.”
Enid wrinkled her nose. “So if I didn’t have 1940s cultural references, I def-o don’t have Ancient Rome cultural references. What was their catchphrase?”
“Memento Mori,” Wednesday said, turning to look ahead at an unfixed point in space.
A beat passed before Enid sighed. “And that means?”
“Remember, death…Remember, you must die. Remember, death is coming.”
“Yikes,” Enid drew herself to her knees. She opened her arms. “Still against the blanket-fort cuddle?”
“Somehow, more so than I was before,” Wednesday confessed, watching Enid’s face shift.
There was a contortion of her lips, like she might cry. Wednesday simply did not understand how things kept going south until Enid nearly whispered, “Is it, um…is it that…we were sitting too close, before? And maybe - you don’t want me to hug you anymore because I told you that now I could be open to girls?”
With a punch to the gut that didn’t feel good at Enid’s sudden loss of self-esteem after a very bold declaration, Wednesday sincerely clarified, “My lack of desire for any sort of affection has nothing to do with what you confessed to me in the movie theater lobby.” She thought, for a split-second, at acknowledging her bravery with a side-hug, but as she looked at Enid once more, that same image of her tombstone flashed before her eyes. “I’m having a sudden and rare bought of mental deficiency. Perhaps you weren’t wrong earlier, maybe there is something happening with my power.”
That turned Enid from upset to concerned. Hating to lie, but having to escape the conversation, Wednesday allowed her to fret. She’d started to force hot tea on her after visions, and set right to heating up an electric kettle, rambling about different ideas she had for Wednesday to feel better after a surge of psychic power.
Wednesday stayed in the blanket fort, quietly thanking Enid for tea, pushing down the guilt for her putting in effort that Wednesday wanted to return…but the little voice, always reminding her of the inevitable won out that night, preventing her from accessing any further deep conversation or action that would lead her closer to someone who would be entirely too painful to lose.