Chapter Text
There was a cleared path with the wind accompanying the guided journey.
Ophelia chose to walk on the side where the grass, as tall as her knee, grazed her skin. Simply because.
Somehow, through the constant walk, the grasses bent to her will. Fading to accommodate her feet.
It was the first taste she had of being remembered.
The same sparkling reflection of the sun in the water is welcomed along the morning breeze of the creek. The thin green grass grazes Wednesday's ankle as she stands alone with her notebook, scribbling notes on her baseline findings regarding the place. The trees have almost aligned themselves with the wind, leaning slightly to the left on their own. There is one large stone uncharacteristically placed near the bank, the past familiar visitor of the creek, placing it on the spot where she mostly sat alone, away from everyone else.
Speaking of her, Wednesday had not seen Enid for a week.
Agonizing seven days of her mind being tormented by the absence of a presence she does not know why she seeks.
The ball passed, and every day, Wednesday tried to be where she expected Enid to visit. At first, she tried to be at the creek at the same time of dawn, and figured perhaps she was a little late when there was no one but her. Wednesday tried to go the next day earlier, and did the same for every other day, until on the fifth, she thought she was never late, and that Enid had not gone into the Creek every morning purposely, as opposed to her statement that she would never be driven away from it.
Their dance was decent, bigger news than Pugsley's pursuit of Ms. Pentley, according to the not-so-humble opinions circulating through the town. Ever since their arrival, their family has been the source of entertainment for everyone. However, as one would initially expect, the discourse around their dance takes different forms, like a single headline and a ton of opinions from different perspectives. Wednesday is not naive to situations as such. The implications of her actions had always been linked to futile talks that hit her like a thrown cotton—it does not affect her in a manner that would further ruin her reputation, which is already perfectly tainted.
There is a beauty in being expected to be at worst, and freedom not to be held in the box of a perfect doll.
Eventually, Wednesday closed her notebook and called her two hours of stay enough for the day. There was no progress in her summoning of Ophelia, with her mind elsewhere. She thinks it is going to be quite useless to summon Ophelia at all. She first needs to know the whole story for a spirit to grant them the privilege of being contacted; however, with so many theories and added stories surrounding the real one, she might be far from knowing the truth, and into knowing the whole of it all.
Wednesday pats Thing’s head, holding onto his reins as she guides the two of them in the pathway that is already memorized by her mind. “Are you happy that I walk along with you these days instead of me riding you for hours?” Wednesday talks to her horse, whose whole body is completely relaxed and loose, indicating how calm and relaxed he is. Wednesday reached out to him and affectionately rubbed her hand on top of his snout. “You must not get used to it. I only try to put myself into Miss Enid’s shoes and her questionable liking of walking. It takes her more than an hour to walk the creek on foot. I do not understand why she prefers to tire herself. Do you think that it is because she lacks her own horse?” Of course, there was no reply but a gentle playful nudge of his snout. “She occupies a space in my mind for a reason that confuses me to a great extent.”
Reaching her own estate has been drearily dry—weary. Boredom, she admits to it. A word that Wednesday dislikes, for she thinks that there are countless things to do in the world to feel such a thing. The lifetime of humans is too short for her ambitiousness to do and learn as much as she could. Her hobbies are time-consuming and focus-demanding. And it is extremely rare for her to feel such agony of feeling the hand of the clock tilt without productivity.
“Madam,” the housekeeper calls for her attention. Wednesday stopped on her track and faced the housekeeper. “Are you going to fence this afternoon?”
“No, I would not,” Wednesday replies. She has decided she will be visiting her family to check on them and to thaw her mind from its unusual lack of thoughts. Perhaps after seeing their faces, she could come up with something and prove that there is something more bearable than being around their enthusiastic company. “Tell Mr. Martin to get the carriage ready. I will be going to Pugsley this morning; there is no need for Mrs. Reyes to cook lunch.” Mrs. Reyes was her main cook and head housekeeper.
“Madam,” The housekeeper once more called before Wednesday could take more steps. “I apologize for the late notice. You have a visitor in the living room who introduced herself as Miss Barclay.”
“Miss Barclay?”
“Yes, Madam. She introduced herself as Bianca Barclay.”
Wednesday was confused and anticipatedly went into the main living room and found Bianca sitting alone, cross-legged and calmly sipping on the tea offered by one of Wednesday’s housekeepers.
“Miss Bianca,” Wednesday politely acknowledges. “How unexpected. What can I do to make your stay at the place uncomfortable?”
Bianca smiled, her shoulders shrugging briefly at the laugh she stifled. She had known Wednesday for years, and to know it is within her vocabulary to speak ill. She stood in politeness, but was offered the same seat when Wednesday sat in front of her. “I unintentionally heard you refrained from fencing this afternoon. It is quite unexpected from one of the finest women to ever participate in the sport.” Their history stems from the sport. With their excellence making them rivals in every competition.
“I am not a miserable person stuck spending my entire day on a single sport. I am way too talented for that.”
“Ego is intact, I see.”
Wednesday adjusted her position while sitting. Her expression is observant. “I do not need you beating around the bush. You did not visit this place to talk about fencing or my ego.”
“No, that would be a conversation that warrants a written mail as you've said. I kept it in my mind that you would rather read a letter than meet anyone in person.”
“And still here you are, trying to get more of my time.”
“You’re right, I shan't be taking more of your time.” Bianca clasped both of her hands in her lap. Finally, she opens, “My mother, as you know, is not in her right mind. She owes Mister Eugene a debt—”
“Eugene Ottinger?”
“Yes, your friend. And I am sent here to ask him what I could do with her inability to pay, yet despite her promises of specific dates that she also failed to comply.”
“You are here for your mother’s debt?” Wednesday repeats, the substitution not making sense for her. “Hadn’t you been able to repay it since last May?”
Bianca sighs at that. “I have, however, my mother once again borrowed on June without my knowledge.” She shrugged and ran her hand to her nape. “I could not disclose the reason for her absence. I have to settle things with Mr. Eugene. I know the relationship your family has with him because he has been Pugsley's friend since childhood. I do not intend to be at this place longer than my requested days to be gone, which is two days at most,” Bianca observed Wednesday, trying to see through the impenetrable wall of her guarded emotions. “If you grant me a room that I can temporarily stay in despite your forced hospitality, I shall be indebted to you until you have also asked for anything in return.”
Wednesday quietly considered. “What do you plan to do? Chase him in this town? Is he aware of your coming?”
“I have not informed him because he is quite hard to track. His business makes him roam to different cities and countries monthly, perhaps weekly as well. Whatever is demanded from him that I do not know of. It is hard for my mail to reach him because his address changes from time to time. I would like to personally talk to him and explain the situation.”
“That indeed would be far better.”
Bianca nods and breathes deeply. “What would your decision be?”
“It is a tempting offer, but I am afraid my land is quite far from the main market and the lands of the people. My brother chose a practical placement while I chose one that would isolate me from the townspeople.”
“I am sitting in the living room of your mansion and asking if you may lend me one of your hundred rooms. One would expect that I do not mind the distance of the estate from the main town when you are not one to hand the offer, and instead, I, with my whole presence, request it.”
Wednesday held back her comment from Bianca’s exaggeration of the rooms. “Very well then, you may stay. I will be going to Pugsley this afternoon. If you would like, I could call for the presence of Mr. Eugene in that place as well.”
“You are very kind.” Bianca could not help the smile on her lips.
Wednesday ordered a room to be readied for her guest. Directing her housekeepers to cook the meal that she had initially said not to, when she intends to dine with her family. She had considered that it would be uncomfortable for Bianca to go into a foreign land and eat with a family she had only known from having fenced with one member, and instead opted to serve her food in her house.
They did not need a conversation on their way as Bianca took a carriage that Wednesday had arranged for her, while Wednesday rode the way with Thing. Wednesday reached the estate before Bianca. She informs her parents of her guest, and within minutes, Bianca was welcomed by Morticia and Gomez, who were enthusiastic. Far too enthusiastic. Bianca’s eyes widened as Gomez took her for a tight hug. They admired her for being one of the most talented and on par with Wednesday’s talent.
Wednesday left them in the living room, ignoring Bianca’s signal for help from the barrage of questions thrown at her, as she intended to look for her brother and for him to send someone to ask for Eugene’s presence at the house. When Wednesday found him, he was, however, sulking by the fireplace. Staring blankly at the papers on top of the table that he had presumably written.
Gomez noticed Wednesday’s concern when he spotted her standing while staring at her clueless brother. He walks beside his daughter, patting her back.
“He had not spoken to us about whatever it is that bothered him greatly. Morticia and I had given him space until he felt comfortable sharing it.”
“Is it because of Miss Pentley?” Wednesday asked. She suspects no one else is causing his rare frowns.
“That I could not conclude. Miss Pentley has been invited a few times over to this house. She was polite, and their conversations sounded sincere. Miss Enid had seemed even to befriend her; she, too, had come with Miss Pentley this week.”
Wednesday turned her head immediately. “Miss Enid visited this place?”
“Yes, she comes with Miss Pentley, and they often stay by the gardens to drink tea.”
“Why was I not informed of it?”
“Oh, well,” Gomez suppressed the smile forming on his lips. “We thought you preferred not to be bothered with something trivial.”
Wednesday sighs, holding herself back from expressing her evident frustration. “I do not want to be bothered with something trivial, that is correct.”
“And clearly we were mistaken in assuming that you consider Miss Enid with less importance,” Gomez laughs in mirth. On their periphery, Morticia entered carrying a huge painting in a portrait with Bianca following her. His attention shifts to Morticia as he always does when his wife enters the room. “I shall remember that she’s not, you will be informed as fast as we possibly can if ever she returns.” He turned away from Wednesday to leave her at last, his arm extending towards Morticia. “Mi amor, let me handle the weight that you carry. I shall be the only burden you'll have to bear.”
Morticia hands him the portrait without complaint, smiling as her hand grazes the flexed ones from Gomez. “Guess which family member this portrait is for, Mon Cher, and I shall grant you a prize.”
Gomez could not help but brighten at the promise. “May I obtain the prize this evening?”
Morticia smiled slyly, turning her heel to sit with Pugsley, whose face was scrunched in confusion when he realized that people had come by the fireplace. “Indeed. If only you were to guess correctly, considering our branches of the family tree.”
Delighted, he was. He looked at his wife, hopeful. “Would you be so kind as to offer me a clue?”
“It would be too easy then. I do think that it is more worth the earning if one is to obtain it with hardship.” Morticia lays her chin in her palm, tapping her cheeks lightly with her colored and polished nails. She enjoys seeing her husband suffer and be denied to the point of begging. “I think you must think of the prize the same, for you consider it as the heaven experienced on earth.”
Wednesday eyed Bianca, who was unexpectedly looking at her already with a painted expression of suppressed embarrassment.
“Has the member recently had an encounter with us?” Gomez inquires.
“That is too specific, darling. That would be too much of a clue,” Morticia shakes her head, disliking the question. “Why don’t you just take the guess? High risk, high rewards.”
Gomez thought for a while. His eyes cast downward to the portrait he holds. “Is it perhaps Thing?”
Morticia gasps, standing to applaud him. “How brilliant! Truly, my love. I admire how you exhibit twice the excellence you possess every day!” She walked towards him, arms extended, and Wednesday caught the portrait before it fell as Gomez landed himself in Morticia, peppering her face with kisses.
Wednesday unwrapped the portrait, her eyes observing the fine painting of her horse, a smile drawing on her lips. It was beautiful. Of course it would be. It was him.
“Lurch?” They hear Bianca ask. All of them turned to see Lurch standing straight by the archway.
When all of their attention was on him, he grunted, turning around and leaving them. He came back a few seconds after; behind him were two women. Miss Pentley and Enid walked in sync. Lurch took the painting from Wednesday’s hand as he returned, and he handed a paper from his pocket to Bianca, who then followed him outside. It must be something to do with Eugene.
“Miss Enid,” Wednesday utters, failing to greet both of the women properly. Enid looked surprised at her presence; both she and Miss Pentley immediately bowed politely in front of the whole family. Wednesday clears her throat, returning the greeting this time acknowledging Pentley as well.
“I hope our unannounced visit did not bother any of you,” Miss Pentley started.
“No, my dear, of course not. It is a rather unproductive day.” Morticia smiles. She turned to Pugsley, who had still not spoken. “May I ask what brings such two fine women to our house this afternoon?”
“I am here for Pugsley, Miss Morticia. I only asked Miss Enid to accompany me.”
Pugsley was standing from his chair, his arms stiff on both sides.
“I see. Well, wouldn’t it be a great day to play golf, Mon Cher?” Morticia asked, intending to leave Pentley and Pugsley alone. Everyone was quick to pick up on the intention.
Gomez nods in agreement. “Why don’t you come with us, Miss Enid? Wednesday had been looking for you. I am sure she has plenty to say,” Gomez eyed Wednesday by then, winking. It made Wednesday slightly frown. “We will be setting up the golf outside, come if you want.”
With the four of them left, Wednesday looked over to Pugsley and then to Pentley. “Take a seat, Miss Pentley. My brother could be quite frozen at times.”
Pentley smiles at Wednesday, and Pugsley seems to snap out of his mind. “My apologies. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Pentley sat beside Pugsley, the two of them unmistakably needing their own time for a deep conversation. Wednesday and Enid left them in understanding.
“Miss Enid, would you like some tea?” Wednesday asks, Enid trails behind her, her neck twisted to see Pentley as she leaves. Wednesday slows down her step so Enid can catch up. “I did not know you were friends with Miss Pentley.”
“It is only recent. She has helped me a lot,” Enid answers. It was short, and she did not appear to be interested in adding more.
“Recent?” Wednesday asks anyway.
“I have been isolated in our house for a few days.” There was an evident gloom in Enid’s voice. “She visited me, which has helped me from losing my sanity in the corners of my own home. When I was free to go outside, she invited me to come with her on Thursday morning in here, and we did so on Friday afternoon. None of it was planned, she informs me at the most random of times with plenty of time left to prepare.”
“Was Pugsley hospitable to you and Miss Pentley?”
“Yes, very much.” There was an unexplainable shift in her that Wednesday could not figure out if it was from her smile, her posture, her words, or the way she generally expresses herself. With such a difference, Enid stands farther from her than anyone else; the contrast of her lowered comfort level was exuding out of the intended polite barriers.
“Do you despise me?”
“What?” Her pitch was high, evidently taken aback by the question. Enid stopped walking, and so did Wednesday. “That—why would you think that?” Enid’s eyebrows have scrunched close; she crosses her arms and raises her chin.
“I only felt that you do, but it is an assumption, and I would just like to clarify its truthfulness.
“Do you know how awful it is to view me as a hateful person?”
“That is not an answer to my question.” There was no sinking feeling of contempt for Enid's refusal to answer, but an overwhelming amount of wanting to know the truth. As if she wants to prove Enid wrong and to be viewed in a greater light. “I was raised not to be offended by hate, or to consider it awful. I often agree with the reasons people held me to it.”
”Contrary to how you were raised, I would be offended by it.”
“And must I be offended by your hatred towards me?”
“I do not hate you.” Enid finally said.
Wednesday looks delighted, but she knows the slip was only to avoid the accusation rather than a genuine answer.
“Can I offer you to sit outside in our garden, or is it with your most honest answer prefer that I formally close our conversation and that you may leave this early?”
The surprise was written plain across Enid’s face by her last statement. “I am still astonished by your lack of politeness for the sake of being truthful.”
“I value my time, and so is yours. I would not hold it against you if you do not want to have a conversation or have anything to do with me. You only came for Miss Pentley, you did not come here to tolerate me.”
“And what would you like to talk about, Miss Wednesday? Surely not the suspected hatred that I hold for you?”
“I would not dwell more on that.”
Enid looked deep in thought, probably debating if it was worth her time. Then, she started walking towards the open door that led to the garden herself, leaving Wednesday to follow her with a suppressed, delighted expression.
Morticia and Gomez were already outside, with Gomez the only one playing as Morticia sat near with Lurch standing to the left of her with an umbrella as she offered encouraging remarks. It was not an actual lively colorful garden. Most of the plants were exotic, rare flora. With the bushes being wild on the sides, crawling towards the fountain wall and in the statue of hecate.
Enid went under the Parasol, beneath the scalding sun, dragging the metal chair and creating a grating sound on its polished ground. Slowly, as if to emphasize something. “You make it hard for my rehearsed thoughts to be said and done.”
They were far from the golfing site, but are near the house. A spot to stare at the vast space the addams garden occupies.
“Rehearsed thoughts?” A light flush crept into Wednesday’s cheeks. “Have you given that much time to think about your future interaction with me?”
Enid crosses her arms. A scoff almost escapes her throat. “Please, do not flutter yourself. I am implying that I should have kept in mind that you are without shame in the direct spew of your words that I have failed to consider.”
“It is in my trademark to be unprejudiced.”
”Is it?” Enid scoffed, finally unable to keep it within her. “That is extremely different from what I had heard.”
“Heard?” There was disappointment in Wednesday’s tone. It is extremely rare for everyone to form an image of her based on personal interactions alone without the influence of others. And she is with great disappointment that Enid was no different. “What is it that you have heard?”
”We have not established any sort of close acquaintance for me to answer all of your concerns, Miss Addams—”
“Wednesday.” Wednesday cuts off. Reminding her of the way she is too formally addressed.
“Yes, Miss Wednesday. The only answer that you will get from me is that I do not despise you. Since you've been so adamant in knowing.”
“Forgive me, but it is bothersome for you to state that someone points to me as prejudiced. Even more so that you seem to believe it.”
“It is not someone, it is everyone.” Wednesday finds it extremely fascinating how little she interacts with Enid, but is able to spot whenever she speaks of truth or not. “Speaking of, it’s the circumstances that affect my current behavior that I unintentionally exhibit when I am with you. But I do not hold hatred. At least nothing for you.”
“And what circumstances led you to this behavior?” Wednesday questions, pondering the words. “I would like to properly understand.”
Enid’s shoulder slumped slightly, and she leaned on the soft cushion attached to the chair. “For one, you live far away enough to free you from the everyday looks of judgment and torment of whispers.” She looks at Wednesday for a moment, her eyes squinting from the harsh lights as she gazes up. “And you do not have your family speaking to you as if you have regressed into a child who does not know better. Can you please sit? You always have to look so uncomfortable.”
Wednesday thinned her lips and sat without an argument. The metal chair creaks in an annoying sound of friction as she adjusts it closer. “Why would your family speak to you in such a manner?”
“Because I acted as such!” Enid hid her face in both of her hands. Her voice was muffled as she continued saying, “Oh, how completely childish it is, truly, to agree to the dance you have asked and to Bruno. I have been extremely reckless with my decisions.”
Wednesday did not dare react. “Have I unconsciously pressured you to dance with me?”
“No. I thought that you could help me get away from Mister Bruno, but you have put me, unintentionally, of course, in a situation that resurfaced some things that should have been forgotten and buried in the past.” Enid refuses to look at Wednesday and instead watches Wednesday’s parents play golf. “It is what troubled me greatly aside from the blazing gossip.”
“I am afraid that I am left outside the context of some of your words.”
“It is, in simple terms, my fault being directed at you. As one would naturally do in moments where they are too tired of being blamed by everyone and also by themselves.” Enid massages her temple.
“Is that why you refused to see me and expected that I would visit the creek, which is the reason for your absence for days?”
“Well, yes. Partly. That much is obvious when I revealed that I could hardly be driven away from it. I felt guilty once the fog in my mind had cleared for a bit. I did have the desire to go, but I was banned from leaving the house for three days, and I figured after that day that I could not see you yet, even if I was already allowed to go. Not when I am aware that I am unreasonably unfair to you due to the factors that ruin the peace inside of me. I could not underestimate how it impacts me to be unable to control the reactions of my family members inside our house or our neighbors that I have to pass by every morning to gather water.”
Wednesday remained silent for a while. Was it appropriate for her to ask the reason behind Enid seeing her as an escape from Bruno? What is it about him that made her impulsively dance with another just to stop him from lingering?
“You have the habit of asking questions and spacing out,” Enid chuckles. “Come ask more, Mister Gomez had said you were looking for me with plenty to say.”
“My father has the habit of over exaggerating,”
“Is it not true then?”
Wednesday fidgeted with her button. “When Miss Pentley invited you to come to this house, did you already expect that I would not be here?”
“I figured you’d be leaving after that night and would not return if not for anything necessary.”
“What gave it away?”
“A lot of them, including me, were not expecting you to attend the second ball. One was enough, and two for you is too much. If you are to have your own quiet space, it is natural for you to seek it. There was no reason for you to visit them.”
“The two consecutive nights full of people have drained me indeed. I could not imagine how it was for your situation of not having a proper environment.” Wednesday frowned. “I am inept in my skills of being able to read people as they answer. I would appreciate your honesty the next time I ask you for something. I would not like to indirectly cause you distress.”
“I know, I know, it is—I pondered about it for days. I told you I blamed you for it, but in truth, I know deep inside me I am the one at fault.”
“It is not only your fault.”
“I agreed to something you asked for, as inappropriate as it was. I allowed it to happen. I allowed myself to participate. I allowed myself to be seen dancing with you.” Enid shakes her head, turns to Wednesday, and demands to question, “Why must you make it so complicated to befriend me?”
Wednesday turned her gaze away, unblinking. “You have explicitly mentioned it would be an effective way for someone to show you affection, even if it is from someone barely tolerable.”
“Yes, affection,” Enid emphasized, as if it were the most basic of words that even a child should know. “You do not hold affection for me.”
“What do I hold for you if not affection?” Wednesday asked, genuinely unaware.
“What?” Enid asked breathlessly. “How could you find affection in our encounters as few as stocks in winter? I do not know you, and you do not know me. We do not have anything between us. I could not even comprehend what it is that you have seen in me to initiate conversations, and let alone a dance.”
“I find you tolerable.” Wednesday almost stops at that. With such reasoning being enough for her. It wasn't for Enid, of course, so she adds. “More than anyone else. It is described in the dictionaries as a feeling that grows by day. I do not have a feeling for you that grows, but you,” Wednesday trails off. Looking for the proper words to relay what she thinks, for she will not be able to hold it much longer inside of her to have words unsaid. “You occupy a space in my mind, a spot in the creek, a drag path in the grass that leads to it. And that had been something I anticipated every crack of dawn. I could not say that I am fond of you, you are right, I do not know you, but it is in my want to know you that leads to my conclusion that I perchance have affection so rarely bestowed, be naturally directed upon you.” Enid looked at her for a long moment. Sinking the words that Wednesday had just said. “Was I mistaken to view it as such?”
There was a pregnant pause. The wind ruffled the trees and filled the silence that suddenly settled on them. For a while, Wednesday thinks Enid spaced out from all of the words she said. It is not easy for Wednesday to relay what she truly feels.
“Yes,” Enid suddenly replies.
“Yes?”
“I think you have mistaken it.” Enid hastily stood up from the chair, and Wednesday stood as well, confused by Enid’s actions. “I have to go.”
“Have I said something wrong?”
“No,” Enid shakes her head. “I remembered that I have to meet my father this afternoon.”
“This sudden? Have you forgotten it when Miss Pentley asked you to come?”
“Yes. It left my mind. It has something to do with fixing the new room?”
“You sound unsure,”
“I should go before Miss Pentley.” Enid fixed her dress, preparing to leave as she appeared to be in a rush, or was it anxiousness that she exuded? “It is my pleasure to have this conversation with you, Miss Addams. Wednesday. Miss Wednesday.”
“Do you need a carriage?” Wednesday asked.
“No, you do not need to get me one; it is not too far. Please, tell Miss Pentley that she could meet me at the house tonight and that I have to leave early to meet my father.”
“I will tell her as soon as she finishes talking with my brother.”
“Thank you,” Enid smiles, turning to leave.
“May I see you tomorrow?”
Enid opens her mouth with no words pouring out of it. She flails her hand before restricting it in front, holding herself back. “I could not promise it.”
Wednesday nods. Taking a step back. Perhaps, she is demanding too much. “I understand.”
“I do not have any other meaning behind, if ever you are reading this situation wrongly. I do not know if my father would request my presence for the entirety of the day, a very close acquaintance of ours is to come over tomorrow, and I need to be in the house by afternoon.”
“So you are free in the morning?”
“As I said, I am not sure.”
“I am not asking for it to meet you. I will not visit the creek tomorrow morning if you wish to see it. I do not want to be the reason you are driven away from—”
“It is not you.”
“It is me.” Wednesday might be naive to emotions and feelings, but she is no fool into analyzing situations.
“It is not you. I am not a selfish fool. The creek is—”
“Is your sanctuary.” Cuts her off. “You have found it before me. You are right, I have my own place to think. You have been grounded at your own house for an act that I have offered from you to do despite the negative social implications that I am also aware of, but failed to consider the consequences on your part. It was partially my fault. You have the right to blame me. I would sincerely not hold it against you, Miss Enid. The past few days have been rough on your end, and tomorrow requires you to do something more demanding. I know you seek to have your own time, a peace after everything.”
Enid clenches and unclenches her fist. She lowers her head as a bow and, without words, leaves in quick strides.
“My little landmine, why don’t you come and play with me?” Gomez shouted from a distance. “It helps release the tension!”
Wednesday turned to her parents, catching them both already staring at her. Gomez has his weight supported using the golf club. Morticia has a smile on her lips.
They must have been watching.
She decided, their teasings are not worth her time.
Bianca and Eugene greeted Wednesday in the living room as she passed them. She spent the rest of the afternoon inside their library, frustrated to find that her bookmark had fallen from the last book she read. Wednesday opened the window for better lighting, sitting directly at where the light cast itself until the sun slowly went down over the landscape.
Pentley left at night. Her conversation with Pugsley had seemed to go well as she parted with a huge relief etched on her. Whereas, Wednesday and Bianca traveled back into her house before dinner. It was opposed by Morticia and Gomez, however, Wednesday did not expect to stay until evening and has told her cooks to prepare food, especially for her guest.
“How was your conversation with Eugene?” Wednesday removes her gloves, laying them gently on top of the table. “Was it what you were hoping for?”
“He is very kind,” Bianca agrees. “I did not expect the deal to be easy. For him to even accept it is a privilege.” They were both served wine before the final dishes arrived and filled the table at last. The utensils click noisily, and Bianca waits for them to finish before she speaks once more. “I appreciate you for inviting him yourself. He was most considerate since he knew you rarely bestow someone such effort. He would likely extend the same consideration for someone whom you knew just by name as Mister Eugene held you in high regard.”
“Eugene is a vulnerable young man. He is not rational about such deeds. Not all the people I know are worth any consideration at all.” Wednesday lays a napkin on her lap and looks at Bianca and then the food, signalling her to start eating. “Do not see it as kindness. I’m merely fueling the deal. Is there more that is required of your stay?”
“No, it is with your unexpected hospitality and Mister Ottinger’s kindness that made this day easy.”
“How long did it take you to reach this town?”
Bianca counted in her mind, gazing up to recall her travel. “An estimate of four days. It was hard to find a carriage to most places, and they asked for a high amount of payment. Still, I am grateful they were there. Or else I would be stuck with my map with nothing but my foot.”
Wednesday almost, almost, smiled at that.
“I know someone fond of traveling on foot.”
“You do?”
“You will be using one of my carriages tomorrow on your way back,” Wednesday purposely dodged follow-up questions.
”I could not accept more of your kindness.”
“It is not kindness.” Wednesday glares. “I wonder what it is with people that I have to repeat myself.”
“Sometimes you mistake things for what they actually are,” Bianca was unaware of Wednesday’s immediate pause. “It is you after all, and your memorized descriptions of words backed from your dictionaries. Yes, kindness is an act done out of the intention of doing good and you refuse to accept it as good for it matches none of your aesthetics. It is good. You are good, Wednesday. In some ways. Even if it offends you.”
“Are dictionaries wrong?”
Bianca chuckled at her question. “Was that a serious question?”
“If you take it seriously,”
“Well,” Bianca puckered her lips as she thought. “I could not say they were wrong. Each word, as you know, had undergone several checking for accuracy and perhaps refinement to give better explanations. However, it will not always be enough. There are some things unexplainable no matter how hard you try to explain. I guess that is the reason most of the people only look for words that they have not or barely heard. Because if a person has experienced the word per se, even its description would often feel as if it lacks, partially correct, or entirely wrong. The dictionary gives an objective accepted meaning.”
“And some words are correct despite the difference of subjective views?”
Bianca hummed in confirmation. “Shall I take a guess?”
“Take a guess of what?” Wednesday was clearly annoyed by Bianca's mischievous tone.
“Of why you are asking me these questions?”
“I would rather you not.”
Bianca wipes her mouth with the cloth. She puts both of her hands on her lap and leans on the chair, watching as Wednesday slows down on her food. “Are you afraid I will guess it right?”
“There is nothing to be afraid of.”
“Oh but there is. After all, Miss Enid had been slowly getting close to Mister Ajax.”
Wednesday puts down her own cutlery and stares unblinking at Bianca.
“How did you know about these people that you have not interacted with?”
“I have my ways of knowing, as you do. We have a deal, I am going to repay you in some smaller ways than none before leaving.”
“I do not think telling me whom Miss Enid is befriending is a good payment for my deeds.”
“Yes, that is true if you accept that you are bound to be ruined for everyone in this town, as you are to any place you stay. Especially to the woman you have your eyes on.”
“Ajax,” Wednesday utters, tasting any familiarity in the roll of her tongue. “I do not know him.”
“No, I am sure you don't. You have cut ties with them before you get to know him further.” Bianca was met with nothing but a stare. “Have you cut off too many people for it not to ring a bell?”
“I do not bother counting each person that I deem irrelevant in my life.”
“Mister Ajax is not as irrelevant as you probably think he is. You must not have seen him yet. I assume, if you had not been late to the party, you could have seen him dancing with Miss Enid.” Bianca recalled her conversation with Pugsley when she was at the mansion. “Pugsley said it is better that you have not seen him. Maybe then you would have recognized him.”
How so?
Wednesday raised one of her eyebrows in wonder.
“What more could he say that would differ from my descriptions according to the people of Jericho?” Wednesday sipped from her wine, unaffected by the glint in Bianca's eyes. She swirls the wine, lifting it to check on the consistency and smell, and then drinks it whole. The housekeeper immediately refills her glass.
“He knows you from his late brother.”
“And do I know him?”
“Not entirely. But you did know his late brother very much.” Bianca repeats.
His late brother?
Wednesday doesn't know anyone that are specifically siblings. Doesn't she?
Except... “Oh,”
“Finally you caught on,” Bianca smiled. “He’s the younger Petropolus.”