Chapter Text
only human
Enid had slept late the next day. Considering how late they had all been up, how much of an emotional roller coaster she had found herself on, she felt she deserved it.
After she finally woke up, Wednesday had requested that they use the tickets her brothers had bought for them, which was how Enid found herself walking with Wednesday down the avenues and streets of The Castro.
Morbidly, it turned out that having an existential crisis was enough to block out the panic that leading her strictly platonic friend (who she loved but not loved like that, not that that would be wrong, but anyway, yeah, they were close and that was perfectly normal) through the gay village.
As they made their way through the neighborhood, taking in the various stores and sights, Wednesday had insisted they follow the Furs Honor Walk. The Castro had two Honor Walks, the Furs for the werewolf civil rights movement, and the Rainbow for the LGBT movement. As they followed the sidewalk, stopping so that Wednesday could read the various plaques and monuments set in the sidewalk, Enid felt as though she was there for the very first time.
She had seen them all before. Enid had spent plenty of time in the city, seen a lot of the tourist sites and a lot of the underground places that only real residences knew about. Her dad had led her and her brothers on this walk himself, the five pups spilling all over each other to be the first one to blurt out a fact and get a piece of candy tossed to them. Because of that Enid could recite a lot of the history from memory.
But this was the first time she had ever really felt connected to it. To hear about the oppression and suffering of werewolves past, to hear about the triumphs and progresses that have been made had always felt academic to her, just something which was important but not immediately relevant.
But it was relevant, Enid realized. It wasn’t something from the distant past. Her own parents had lived through horrific examples of misplaced tradition and racial persecution. Even now, there was probably dozens of werewolves out there who weren’t able to live a life like hers, happy and proud of who she was.
It was humbling. It spurred a deep, almost overwhelming love for her family: her quiet but supportive father, her idiotic but not really that bad brothers…
And her mother…
Her mother who had always seemed so judgmental in Enid’s eyes, who had always seemed like some stern and implacable figure who she could never please and was always disappointed in her…
Her mother who had been in the same situation that Enid had, but so much worse. Who had been trying so hard to make sure Enid never had to experience what she had…
It was a strange realization: that her mother was only human. It’s normal for children to look up to their parents, to think that they were unflappable, to think that they knew what they were doing. Enid had always thought that Esther knew what she was doing, that her actions were purposeful, and that her results were intended.
The realization that her mother wasn’t like that, that she made mistakes, made Enid wonder what mistakes she herself might have made over the years. What had she misunderstood, what had she interpreted wrong?
Esther was a person, and as a person Enid realized she didn’t know her mother very well at all.
“You appear deep in thought.” Enid started a bit, and turned to find Wednesday studying her frankly. “It’s an unusual appearance for you.”
“Being deep in thought?” Enid managed to get out, grinning wanly.
“Or in any thought at all,” Wednesday corrected, but even as Enid squeaked in outrage, she could see the small upturn to the shorter girl’s lips.
“Mean,” Enid pouted, feeling a grin of her own start as well.
“Would you like to rest for a moment?” Wednesday asked, head cocked slightly.
“I guess, maybe?” Enid offered back. Wednesday nodded, and led them both to a coffee shop on the corner of the street.
“Please, have a seat,” Wednesday told her as they entered. “I will place the order for both of us.”
“Thanks, Willa,” Enid told her gratefully, and made her way to a window seat.
She looked out the window, and tried to gather her thoughts, but they just kept seeming to flutter away from her.
Even Wednesday placing a cup in front of her wasn’t enough to fully pull her from her thoughts. Enid sipped the offered beverage absently, smiling at the taste of coffee, chocolate, and caramel. Wednesday certainly knew her tastes by now, that much was for certain.
“I have been advised that sometimes when a person experiences or witnesses an event that greatly impacts their life, it is often times beneficial for them to discuss it with someone afterwards,” Wednesday noted, sipping her dark drink. “Given your own propensity for vocalizations, I suspect this would be an efficient method for you to utilize as well.”
“Wednesday Addams,” Enid began, the corner of her lips quirking slightly. “Are you asking me if I want to talk about it?”
“Yes, that is my intention,” the seer admitted, shifting slightly in her chair. “That is, if you are so inclined.”
Despite herself, Enid couldn’t stop herself from beaming a smile at her best friend. Oh, Wednesday was just so sweet, and considerate, and cute! This was basically the Wednesday way of offering to let her talk about her feelings, but also insisting that it was only if she wanted and was ready to!
“I guess I was just thinking about my mom,” Enid admitted, shrugging slightly. “I mean, what do you do after you just find out something terrible happened to someone in your family a long time ago and you only just found out?”
“Applaud?” Wednesday offered cautiously, and Enid leveled a dry glare at her which caused her to adjust her answer immediately. “I mean, I’m not entirely certain. When my father was arrested for murder, I had to confront my own mother about a terrible family secret as well. However, I was graced with an immediate problem to solve afterwards, and was able to work through the event together with her. It was cathartic enough for me to process the situation adequately.”
“I’m not sure that would work for me,” Enid admitted, sipping her cup. Absently, she reached out with her free hand, and Wednesday looked at it for a moment, before taking a deep breath and offering her own in return.
Good. Enid was getting more and more serious about that hand belonging to her now. A comfort hand. An emotional support hand. Like Thing, only more Wednesdayish.
“I did not believe it would,” the seer admitted. “However, it was the only relevant or similar example I had readily available. Though if you do desire a joint confrontation, I could have my necromantic supplies shipped over handily. It may provide some sort of closure to reanimate and then personally re-terminate with prejudice your grandfather?”
It said a lot about Enid’s developing tolerance for weirdness that she actually considered the option for a moment.
“No thank you, Willa,” Enid declined the offer, and Wednesday shrugged slightly. Sipping her coffee, Enid struggled to verbalize the track her train of thought had been following. “I think… I think I need to talk to my mom.”
“About her experiences?” Wednesday prompted, and Enid shook her head. Then paused, and shrugged. Then slumped.
“No, not about… about what happened,” Enid decided. “I don’t think… I don’t think I’m ready for that, or that she’s ready for that, for that matter.” If those kinds of things had happened to her, if Enid had done what her mother had done, then Enid wasn’t sure she would ever be willing to talk about it. Well, maybe to a therapist but to her hypothetical-if-she-ever-had-one daughter?
Yeah, Enid didn’t even know if she knew how to not know how she would handle that kind of a talk.
“I think I just need to talk to her,” Enid went on. “Like, I don’t really know anything about my mom. What kind of things does she like besides yoga and new age stuff? Why does she do the things she does, not just what she does, or why I think she does it? I guess I have to get to know her better.”
“Bonding,” Wednesday noted, crinkling her nose. “How deplorable. Are you certain you cannot acquire this knowledge surgically, perhaps via lobotomy?”
“Wednesday,” Enid giggled. The seer shrugged.
“That was how I deepened my knowledge of my uncle,” Wednesday defended.
“Do… can I ask you to be there too?” Enid tightened her grip on Wednesday’s hand, nervous. Maybe it wasn’t the coolest thing in the world to ask your best friend to be there while you try to bond with your estranged mother, but if there was anyone around who Enid thought could help keep her grounded, it would probably be the tiny tyrant terror in front of her.
At the request, Enid could see the actual physical shiver that went through Wednesday’s body as her face scrunched up in distaste. Enid hurried to explain.
“It’s just, I’m worried that I might overreact or misread the situation, and you’re such a good investigator that you would absolutely be able to figure out if I’m misunderstanding something, or be able to question my mother if she says something which sounds mean to find out if she’s actually being mean, and since you’re so good at finding out the truth and all it would just seem like a natural thing for you to be able to…”
“Enid, breathe,” Wednesday told her, eyebrow twitching. “So, you wish for me to assist in your… maternal bonding… under the basis of my interrogative abilities being able to determine the true… intentions of your mother.” Enid nodded immediately and Wednesday twitched. “Are you certain that we cannot simply resort to the lobotomy option?”
“Willa! Oh, thank you!” Enid could not stop the beaming smile as she identified the other girl’s capitulation. Her other hand came out to join the one already grasping the seer’s hands. “Oh, thank you, thank you!”
“I would tell you not to make me regret this,” Wednesday grit out, though she also brought her other hand up to pat hers. “But I already do.”
“Excuse me,” a new voice interrupted their conversation, and Enid blinked in surprise as she turned to find one of the baristas smiling at them. “I’m so sorry for interrupting,” the employee went on quickly, holding up a polaroid camera, “but you two are such a cute couple that we were hoping to put you on the wall!”
“In shackles?” Wednesday asked hopefully, and Enid patted her hand, confused by the question until the barista pointed towards one of the walls. On it there was a large sign proclaiming ‘Out and Proud!’ and beneath it were dozens upon dozens of pictures of happy couples all smiling at the camera.
Same sex couples, Enid noticed, color beginning to rush to her face as she realized that Wednesday and her were still holding hands, leaning in, and hey, yes, they weren’t actually a couple because they were really just best friends and roomies, and yes, Enid really did like Wednesday a lot, but oh, my, god, this other lady thought that they were together as in ‘TOGETHER’ together and was totally absolutely completely misreading the situation…!
“What would we gain from participating in this quaint custom?” Wednesday asked, cocking her head to the side as Enid sputtered.
“I have some tickets to a small pride march happening this weekend,” the barista indicated, and Wednesday nodded slowly as Enid tried to remember how to speak.
“Pride is my favorite of the cardinal sins,” Wednesday admitted. “Though it and ‘Wrath’ frequently vie for first place. Enid, would this be an acceptable destination this weekend?”
Enid sputtered, unable to properly reject the idea. Afterall, Wednesday really seemed interested, as in interested in the march she meant, and Enid did owe her a favor for just agreeing to help with her mom, but okay, wow, did Wednesday not realize what they meant by ‘Pride’, or did she recognize and actually agree, and okay, maybe, just maybe, hear her out, maybe Wednesday might actually also be a little bit interested, though that ‘also’ didn’t necessarily mean that ENID was interested but maybe….!?
Enid was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t even realize she was nodding furiously until Wednesday returned her attention to the hopeful barista.
“Very well, please proceed,” the seer ordered and the employee beamed a smile and lifted the camera.
As the flash of the polaroid highlighted Enid’s incredible blush, she realized that she was going to have to find some way to make sure her brothers NEVER FOUND OUT ABOUT THIS!!!!!
***Scene Break***
Enid was doing her absolute best not to hyperventilate, but it turns out ‘not hyperventilating’ is not one of her outstanding abilities.
She could do this, she reminded herself sternly. She can do this, all she was going to do was go down and talk to her mother, and maybe find out something about her, and no, her mother wouldn’t unsheathe her judgey claws, but what if she did, and oh god, she wasn’t sure she could do this, no, no she could not do this, she didn’t want to do this…!
“Breathe, Enid,” Wednesday told her, and Enid felt one of Wednesday’s hands touch her back briefly. It felt really nice, supportive and encouraging without being overwhelming, and despite herself Enid felt her panic recede.
It was after dinner, and the boys had mostly returned to their rooms at this point, and were probably plotting totally uncool ways to make fun of the fact that she was capable of maintaining a completely healthy and platonic friendship with a beautiful girl while they couldn’t even get dates. Dad was in his study doing dad things.
This was the time of the night where her mom would be just finishing up puttering around the kitchen: filling the dishwasher, organizing her utensils, and listening to some weird Tibetan flute music that she was into.
Normally, Enid would have been updating her blog and checking her socials, but today, she was currently remembering how to breathe while clutching a modest hand bag and looking to Wednesday for support.
“If this goes poorly, we can always return to the lobotomy option,” Wednesday reminded her, and Enid snorted at her bestie’s definition of support.
‘Big girl time,’ Enid reminded herself. ‘You’re a fearsome werewolf. A beast which hunts the woods. You can do this.’
So, she took a deep breath and forced herself forward.
“Hey, mom,” she said, probably a bit too loud, and her cheerful tone felt a little forced. “Wednesday and I were about to do some manis, and we wanted you to join us! Can I do your nails?”
Esther’s initial reaction to the invitation was to freeze, her face pinched as she turned slowly to her daughter. It was a reaction that made Enid’s heart sink a little. This was normally what Esther looked like when she came into a room, gave her daughter one look, and walked right out…
“I would advise against flight,” Wednesday spoke up, her tone flat. “Your daughter desires this strongly, and if I have to endure this insipid tradition, then I wish for others to suffer as well.”
The declaration seemed to catch Esther by surprise, and she glanced at Wednesday briefly, before biting her lip and smiling painfully at Enid.
“Well dear, if you really want to,” Esther allowed, and Enid noted the way she was still biting her lip. Enid realized that she was biting her own lip as well, trying to steady her nerves…
Was… was her mother nervous too? About what? About spending time together?
“Oh, this is so exciting,” Enid nervously chattered as the three set up the dining room table with the supplies that Enid had brought down. “How long has it been since we all did our nails like this? I mean, we’ve obvi never done it all together like this, but I mean how long since any of us have done our nails together like this?”
“Never,” Wednesday helpfully supplied. “This marks the end of a successful trend.”
“Four years,” Esther herself spoke quickly nearly interrupting Wednesday as she chimed in the moment the seer was done speaking. “Since you were twelve. The last time we were watching that video about cuticles and you were having so much fun pushing them down that you accidentally cut yourself…”
She cut herself off abruptly, but Enid felt shock as she realized that her mother was exactly right. Enid herself could remember the video, a YouTube how to. After she nicked herself, Esther had comforted her and wrapped a small rainbow band aid over the wound. It was one of the last memories of her and her mother spending time together without the looming shadow of Enid’s wolf out hanging over them.
The fact that her mother remembered was daunting. In Enid’s head Esther’s focus on her wolfing out had been the core of their interactions for so long that the memories of how they had been before had seemed dimmed, unimportant somehow. But if her mom still remembered them so clearly…
Feeling cautiously emboldened, Enid continued, trying to maintain the mood. She held up various bottles in various colors.
“So,” she began, nerves still making her speak a little faster than she normally did, “I have a whole bunch of different colors. Now, I know Wednesday is only going to need, black, and maybe red if she’s feeling like a risk, I wasn’t certain what colors you would want, mom. I was thinking maybe pink and blue…”
“Oh, dear, are you really certain about those colors?” Esther asked quickly. “I mean, I’m certain they would like fine, if you’re certain, but would those really be the best?”
Enid flinched, unable to suppress years of instinctive response to her mother’s negging, and Esther cut herself off immediately. And here it was again, Enid realized, despite everything, despite trying to reach out to her, she still just wasn’t going to be enough for her mother…
“Why would you think they might not be the best?” Wednesday’s voice cut through Enid’s spiraling mood, and both Enid and Esther turned as though they had forgotten the other girl was there.
“Why?” Esther repeated, tone uncertain.
“Why would pink and blue not be acceptable?” Wednesday inquired with a matter fact tone. “What is your reasoning for finding dissatisfaction with them?”
“Well,” Esther began, and Enid realized she was biting her lip again, gnawing on it fiercely. “Before, Enid dear, you always said that pink and blue range to far in the pastel, and since nail art is supposed to be eye catching it was better to use bolder colors, and I just remembered how against them you always were so I was worried you might have been choosing them against your better judgment, and wanted to be certain you knew that I would be fine with whatever colors you wanted…”
Esther cut herself off abruptly, and Enid found herself staring at her mom with slightly widened eyes.
Enid had known for a while that, well, maybe just a little she could sometimes come down with a case of verbal diarrhea: that when she was nervous or excited, she would end up just word vomiting all over the place. It was something that always embarrassed her just a bit.
To think that she and her mother had that in common…
Enid found herself smiling at her mother. Esther, who Enid realized didn’t look offended, and instead looked nervous, tentatively smiled back with a slightly relieved expression.
“Considering the intensity of your fascination with colors,” Wednesday turned to Enid, “I assume you have an explanation for your choice?”
“Well, yeah, bold used to be super popular,” Enid began explaining, “but nail art has come a long way, and now it’s more about the statement than the contrast…”
***Scene Break***
From the stairwell across from the dining room, Murray listened as his wife and daughter had one of the longest conversations between the two of them that they had in years. It was stuttering, trailing on and off, one or the other cutting themselves off at one point or another. Esther would realize she had said something which could be misinterpreted and cut herself off abruptly, or Enid’s nerves would cause her to trail off slowly as she second guessed herself.
Strangely, it was the third girl, her daughter’s friend Wednesday who would provide the opportunity for the conversation to begin: questioning Esther’s intentions for her statements and providing her the opportunity to explain the thoughts behind them, or prompting Enid to continue so she could reach whatever point she had originally been trying to make.
Though Murray wondered if Wednesday even realized what she was doing: her comments always seemed to stay in line with her… somewhat quirky demeanor.
It wasn’t perfect, but none of them were. What mattered was they were trying, and for what felt like the first time in years, it seemed like they were making progress.
Quietly, as to not disturb them, Murray made his way up the stairs, to his office. Opening one of his drawers, he pulled out a half full bottle of fine scotch and one of the tumblers that he kept up in his office for special occasions. He felt like the current situation deserved a little celebrating.
Pouring himself several fingers, he was about to take his first sip when he heard a familiar drumming noise.
Turning, he saw the hand… its name was Thing, Murray remembered, perched on the coffee table. Tentatively, it waived at him.
Murray stared at it for a moment, considering, before he finally made up his mind about how he felt about the mobile disembodied appendage.
Slowly, he pulled out a second tumbler, and poured a generous amount into it as well. He placed it on the desk near him, and tapped the desk in invitation.
Thing’s fingers flapped excitedly, and it scurried over. Plopping down next to the glass, it picked up the liquor and offered the cup towards Murray. Nodding, Murray tapped the glass with his own in cheers.
And so, quietly, the two passed the night in contemplative silence as the women they loved talked below.