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Sunday evenings were for laundry and catching up on overdue assignments. Well, Wednesday folded and organized her laundry after the staff dropped it off clean and smelling of awful detergent while Enid rushed through homework assignments she had been given on Friday and definitely neglected all weekend in favor of sleepovers with Yoko and dates with Wednesday.
“Something is missing,” Wednesday said to Enid, hanging her uniform, that had been freshly pressed and starched, in her closet with her other dresses. “My hamper was certainly heavier than this when I put it out to be taken. It felt oddly light when it was returned.”
Enid laid her floral flat sheet over the matching fitted one, pushing aside her pile of missing homework assignments. She looked up, curiously watching her partner fumble through her folded pajamas. Her eyes landed on Wednesday’s bed, where the mattress was still naked enough to reveal springs trying to push through the foam.
“I think the dryer ate your sheets, babe,” she giggled, pointing to Wednesday’s bed.
Wednesday lifted her head from the pile of equally black shirts she was holding. She frowned at the sudden apparent nakedness of the mattress where her bedspread should have been, took one last look at the empty hamper that had her name embroidered in black thread on the side, and immediately wrinkled her nose and screwed up her face in contempt.
“I’m going to find that Mrs. Calixo and give her a piece of my mind for allowing this to happen,” Wednesday said to no one in particular, shoving her clothes back into the dresser drawer. “She had one job, and that was to use her divination powers to sort our laundry and bring it back to its rightful owners, and she can’t even do that. I should have her fired for this.”
“Woah.” Enid grabbed Wednesday’s hands and brought them together between her own. They were shaking and cold. “It’s totally fine. We can get you some new ones. Don’t you have an extra set?”
Wednesday’s big brown eyes locked with Enid’s. She was furious; that much was evident in the way her lip curled upwards and her nose wrinkled.
“I don’t. I prefer quality over quantity, and I expect my belongings to be returned,” she replied, exhaling. “I wasn’t counting on my only linens to go missing. While I don’t mind sleeping on a bare mattress—I’ve once comfortably slept in a morgue—those bedsheets cost a fortune and I’m quite upset that they’ve been lost at the hands of someone who was trusted with them.”
“How much could they really cost?” Enid chuckled, releasing Wednesday’s hands and moving hers down to squeeze Wednesday’s waist.
“That entire set was well over $300. My grandmother gifted them to me for my birthday,” Wednesday huffed. “Of course I could simply purchase another set, but I’m going to have to order them from the manufacturer, and I’d rather not go through all that trouble just because that stupid woman—“
She was delightfully interrupted by Enid planting a soft kiss to her lips.
“As much as I’m trying not to have a stroke over $300 sheets when I got mine on clearance at Walmart, I understand that you’re upset over it,” Enid told her, brushing messy black hair away from Wednesday’s forehead. “We’ll find them tomorrow, okay? I’m sure they’re still in the laundry room.”
“Even my pillowcase is missing,” she muttered. “I don’t want to accuse anyone of such things, but perhaps they were not lost. Maybe someone stole them. They are expensive, after all.”
“I really don’t think anyone wants to steal a stranger’s sheets that they do who knows what on, even if they’re for rich people,” Enid tried to reason, but reasoning with Wednesday was always a bit challenging because of Wednesday’s tendency to place blame wherever she could. “Either they got mixed up or lost, or the dryer ate them. It happened with my favorite socks.”
“I must find them,” Wednesday insisted, already grabbing her shoes from beside her bed. “I wrote my name on the inner tag. This shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Again, Enid grabbed hold of Wednesday’s hands. Wednesday dropped her shoes with a loud thud, glaring up at Enid. She tried to make herself seem domineering and far angrier than she might’ve been over such a trivial thing, but Enid only giggled at the way her eyebrows furrowed and she let out a growl.
“No point in going now. Someone will definitely catch you,” Enid told her as her arms reprised their role around Wednesday’s waist. “You know all the teachers are walking the halls right now.”
“Good, then I can inform one of them about my lack of linens,” Wednesday grumbled to herself, electing to lay her head on Enid’s strong shoulder. “I don’t mind sleeping without. It’s the principle of it, Enid. I’d hate to have to tell my grandmother that someone stole the bedding she gave me. It was imported. You would think the staff being paid a handsome salary at a prestigious private school would utilize more caution in their work.”
“So don’t tell her that,” Enid suggested, pressing a kiss to Wednesday’s hairline. She smiled when she felt Wednesday snuggle further into her. “We’ll just get you some new ones online, if you know where she got them from. She won’t have to know what happened.”
It was a feasible solution, of course. Wednesday’s parents were frequently generous with providing their eldest child with spending money and often didn’t think twice about taking the chance of a thousand dollars in cash getting lost in the mail as it traveled from one state to the next. A new set of sheets wasn’t much of anything to an Addams, even if it cost them quite a pretty penny.
A hundred dollars here, a hundred dollars there—none of it really mattered, and it always flabbergasted Enid, especially considering that Wednesday never flaunted it like her blood was made of diamonds and her heart was made of fine silk.
Anything for my unhappy storm cloud, Mr. Addams often said to Wednesday whenever he would call on Sunday afternoons—which, he had said earlier in the day, when Wednesday requested a new hunting knife.
“I suppose I’m sleeping without them tonight,” said Wednesday. She side-eyed her naked mattress from over the edge of Enid’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine how many menstrual blood and, perhaps, semen stains have been left on that mattress over the years. The only thing separating me from such biohazards were my anti-microbial, one-hundred percent cotton bedsheets that have now been thieved from me.”
Enid pulled away from Wednesday, twisting her face in absolute disgust.
“First of all, that is gross to think about. Second of all, you don’t have to sleep on it like that,” she said, gesturing to her side of the room. “You can sleep in my bed.”
Wednesday’s eyebrows pinched in confusion. She tilted her head a bit, frowning at Enid. “And where will you sleep?”
Enid half-scoffed, half-giggled in disbelief. “Uh, in my bed, silly! We can share it. Sharing is caring, ya know. Plus, we kiss and do all kinds of girlfriend stuff. It’s totally normal for couples to sleep in the same bed. Do you think your parents have separate beds?”
Wednesday paused for a moment, thinking back to the very vague memories of her childhood wherein she could recall seeing the inside of her parents’ bedroom. It was mostly off-limits to the children, likely due to the fact that there were very intimate and dangerous objects inside, but Wednesday wasn’t exactly eager to enter, anyway. Pugsley had always been the one to sneak in there and crawl between their parents when he was just a tot.
“My father has a separate bed of nails in our basement,” she told Enid, earnestly looking at her with fondness in her eyes. “Some nights, when he finds himself stressed, he will spend the night on it for relief. There are also nights where my mother will rest there when she wants to reminisce on the pain of childbirth.”
“Yeah, but they still have one bed they share most of the time, right?” Enid asked, almost nervous about what Wednesday might’ve decided to say next. “Right?”
“Perhaps,” Wednesday replied with a shrug. “But they are also married.”
“That’s such an outdated way of thinking,” Enid said, somewhat dejected by the statement. “We’re way past that. It’s not like we’re gonna…do anything. You don’t wanna sleep on a gross mattress without sheets, and I’m not gonna sleep on the floor, and there is plenty of room for you in my bed. I’ll never force you to do something you don’t want to do, but I’m just saying. It makes the most sense for us to share my bed until we can get you some sheets. We aren’t strangers. It’s not weird for girlfriends to share a bed, even if they are not married. Marriage is outdated.”
A knot started forming in Wednesday’s stomach. She didn’t care about the lack of ring on her finger, but she hadn’t once thought about sharing a bed with Enid. She had always assumed there was a mutual understanding between the two, that they weren’t going to go so far yet.
And yet, she couldn’t tell Enid no. Enid’s big eyes full of compassion and love we’re just too irresistible.
“I suppose spending the night wrapped up in colorful bedsheets and suffocated by a mountain of stuffed animals wouldn’t kill me,” she said to Enid, dramatically pausing. “You’d sincerely hope not, anyway.”
Metaphorical tail wagging, Enid happily skipped to her bed and began throwing off all of her stuffed animals and her overdue homework assignments. She tugged down her flat sheet to make room for Wednesday to scoot in next to her and fluffed up her extra pillow that she often hugged to sleep.
“You can take the right side,” Enid told her, meticulously making up that side of the bed to better suit Wednesday’s need for discomfort. “I’d rather sleep by the wall, if that’s okay.”
“Is that because the right side is closest to the door and the window and I would be the first to get attacked if anyone were to break in?” Wednesday asked.
Enid hesitated a moment, looking up from the bed. “Of course not! I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You’d be doing me a favor,” Wednesday muttered to herself. She glared at how pink Enid’s bedsheets were. “I’m going to brush my teeth and wash my face. I’ll take a shower in the morning.”
She left Enid to her own devices, stepping into their shoebox of a bathroom and closing the door behind herself. For more than a minute, she stood in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection; dark circles were beginning to form under her eyes and she felt paler than usual. Her pallor seemed sickly under the yellow light of the bathroom.
It was nearly impossible for her to lie to Enid and tell her that she wasn’t so certain that she was prepared to take the next step in their relationship. Kissing and hugging were things that Wednesday had only recently learned to do without feeling like some sort of fraud or as if she were betraying who she once was the day her family shipped her off to Nevermore to get her attitude in check. It was in check alright—perhaps a bit too in check.
She brushed her teeth with her charcoal toothpaste—handmade from real charcoal—that her Uncle Fester had dropped off for her before he had vanished on one of his escapades, washed her face with an unscented bar of soap that definitely didn’t contain even half the amount of absurd chemicals as Enid’s did, and redid her hair so her braids were tighter and wouldn’t come loose in the middle of the night. She didn’t need another thing to bother her when she was already being eaten by pink linens.
When she returned to Enid, Enid was flattening out the same pillow she had just fluffed.
“What are you doing?” Wednesday asked.
“I just remembered that you like stiff pillows,” Enid replied, slamming her fist into the pillow until it caved. “I’m trying to make it flat.”
“It’ll do for one night, Enid,” she insisted, even if her skin prickled at the thought of sleeping on something that felt like a cloud. “You don’t need to go through all the extra trouble.”
“You’re my GF; it’s not trouble,” Enid huffed at the pillow that just refused to lay flat. She punched it again. “Partners do stuff like this for each other.”
Wednesday made a note of that. Perhaps she was an awful girlfriend for never accommodating Enid.
“Don’t overexert yourself, Enid,” she demanded, placing a firm hand on Enid’s shoulder. “I will survive the night.”
Enid plucked a random thread from the pillowcase. “If you’re sure.”
Wednesday absolutely wasn’t sure, but she had to get over herself if she wanted to sleep somewhere that wasn’t covered in filth, and she never intended to hurt Enid’s feelings by rejecting her. And so, she nodded at Enid and made a show of trying to stare fondly at the bed.
“This’ll do.”
Suddenly Enid perked up. She grinned at Wednesday before planting a slobbery kiss on a cold, dimpling cheek.
“I’m gonna get ready for bed, too,” she said to Wednesday, poking her nose with her finger. It wrinkled up in response before Wednesday shook her head. “Make yourself comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you can get, I guess.”
Enid skipped into the bathroom with a change of pajamas tucked under her arm. Wednesday grumbled to herself, realizing she had forgotten to fetch her own pajamas.
She surveyed the state of Enid’s bed with scrutiny in her eyes. The sheets felt warm and heavy to the touch—not at all like cotton and more like flannel, she concluded after reading the inner tag—and the throw blanket was made of hot fleece.
It was going to have to do until she could figure something else out, but she wasn’t going to succumb to such misery so easily, so she rummaged through her pajama stash and found a loose-fitting t-shirt made of bamboo and a pair of matching shorts that had the drawstring ripped out of the hole because it had kept rolling up into a ball in her sleep. Most nights she would elect to sleep barefoot, but she feared her feet having to touch those godawful sheets all night, so she put on her beloved pair of seamless socks.
After changing clothes inside of her closet, she found Enid already settling into bed on the side nearest the wall. She was wearing a face mask that reminded Wednesday of a snake whenever she peeled it off.
“Must you wear that thing every night?” Wednesday complained as she awkwardly hovered over the empty side of the bed. “Surely it’s bad for your skin. One day you’ll shrivel like a raisin.”
“It gives my skin a healthy glow,” Enid said, patting the mask. “I just had my monthly flea treatment and it totally dried my skin out. I’m rehydrating.”
“If you insist. But I don’t want any complaints from you when you realize all those chemicals are aging you.”
“Shut up and get your scary ass in the bed.” Enid tapped the barren space next to her. “I won’t bite unless you want me to.”
As much as Wednesday wanted to thank her for the compliment, she was stuck on the tease.
“Maybe another time,” she eventually said, peeling back the top sheet and the overwhelming fleece blanket. “I would never shame you for your tax bracket, but surely these were not the only linens on the shelf at Mart-Wal that day.”
“Wal-Mart,” Enid snorted. “And no, I just liked them. They’re super cute.”
Of course a selling point for Enid would be cuteness over practicality. Wednesday expected nothing less from her, but when she finally crawled into bed and curled her legs up so she didn’t have to feel the material of the sheets, she wanted to tell Enid to get over that habit and start making purchases with her brain rather than her eyes.
“I have a Benadryl if you start having a reaction,” Enid sweetly said, pointing to a pink tablet on her desk. “You can drink from my water bottle.”
Wednesday eyed the medicine with doubt. “The putrid dye in that thing would only worsen my condition. I cannot afford another infirmary visit. My parents are already worried that I cannot take care of myself, ever since the..incident. I don’t think that their judgments are appropriate. They were not there that night.”
Enid paused, thinking. They rarely ever mentioned the night of the blood moon, especially Wednesday. Wednesday frequently referred to it as “the incident,” like she had tripped or something. Enid preferred not to discuss it at all.
“Well, it’s there if you need it. Better safe than sorry.”
It was a kind gesture, and Wednesday wasn’t used to such things. Her family was often accommodating towards her, even if her mother was sometimes disproportionately harsh with her about her attitude towards society, but she had never met someone like Enid before; selflessly kind, affectionate, giving. All Wednesday knew how to do was take until there was nothing left, and she sometimes didn’t understand why Enid felt such a nagging need to please her.
“Do you mind if I turn on my astronaut light?” Enid asked, holding a tiny remote in her hand. “I won’t if it’ll bother you.”
Of course she just had to be sweet to Wednesday. Wednesday wasn’t so sure that she deserved options.
“It hasn’t bothered me all these nights,” she replied, laying her head against the pillow. “Once I slip into unconsciousness, I’ll be none the wiser.”
A splash of magenta and deep blue light exploded over the ceiling just above the bed. Sometime during the summer, Enid’s father had given her a nightlight that was shaped like an astronaut. The light projected out of the helmet and could change colors and move at different speeds with a remote that Enid often lost in her covers. It hardly upset Wednesday, because she was usually far enough away from it, but now that she was being bathed in artificial light, she wondered if she was going to be able to sleep.
“Comfy?” Enid asked.
Wednesday was stiff, laid on her back with her braids splayed out every which way, but she nodded. “Yes. As much as I’m going to be.”
“If you don’t like something, tell me,” Enid said in earnest. “I know you feel awkward.”
“I don’t.”
Enid peeled off her face mask and disposed of it in her bedside trash can. It left behind a sheen that made her face shine like an angel in the overhead lighting emitting from the astronaut.
“It’s okay to feel weird,” she continued blabbering to Wednesday, now sticking star stickers on random parts of her face. She once told Wednesday that they were for acne, but Wednesday was always in disbelief about it. “We haven’t done this before.”
“I’m perfectly content like this, Enid.” Wednesday crossed her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.”
Her heart slamming in her chest told a lot of lies, but Enid didn’t have to know that.
She closed her eyes, trying to get comfortable.
“Terrible dreams, Enid.”
“Goodnight. Sleep tight.”
Wednesday felt two lips on her forehead. Her eyes almost flew open, but she couldn’t be too obvious about her surprise, so she turned her head to one side to face the empty side of the room. The bed dipped and squeaked and Enid tried—and failed—to use caution when she grabbed one of her stuffed animals from the floor.
Kicking the blanket into a rumpled mess at her feet and barely letting the top sheet touch her knees, Wednesday squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and tried to think miserable thoughts to soothe herself, but she was quickly brought back to the smell of Enid’s vanilla lotion—the one specifically for bedtime, not the other one, as Enid would so happily correct her—and the sound of her even breathing.
Soon, the yellow light of Enid’s bedside lamp was gone and Wednesday felt a comfortable yet unfamiliar weight sink in next to her. She kept her eyes closed, squeezing unbelievably tighter as the warmth of Enid nestled in beside her.
The room was quiet, save for the steady hum of the projector light as the astronaut’s beam rotated from side to side. It was much louder from here than from across the room, but it wasn’t bothersome. If anything, it was comforting and soothing.
Wednesday thought of torture and agony, counting swords and knives in her head to fall asleep, but despite the buzzing coming from the nightlight, she couldn’t slip into her land of nightmares. Her knives turned into Enid’s face and the torture methods she loved to think about quickly morphed into that monster attacking Enid. It was becoming more common to have nightmares of Enid’s death or of an alternate ending to the blood moon, and oftentimes she would jolt awake and force herself back to sleep as to not disturb Enid. But here, with Enid pressed up against her and leaving little room for her to move, she couldn’t afford such things, and so she continued to count knives until she got to sixty, and then she lost count.
Enid’s pillowcase was warm and made Wednesday’s head feel unreasonably hot. She kicked away at the blankets until they were completely off of her legs, leaving her exposed to the night air. She added more pressure to her chest using her arms, taking a few deep breaths and wondering what would happen if she took the floor. Perhaps she could tell Enid that she fell off during the night.
Ultimately, she decided to lay there, with a spring poking her back and the stupid bedsheets causing a rash on the back of her thigh. Every so often she would open her eyes, just to make sure the astronaut was still projecting light, and it was, this time turning pink and blue with little green dots that were meant to resemble stars. She had never seen a green star before, but she had also never taken the time to care too much about astronomy when there were serial killers and monsters on the loose.
The humming was interrupted by the sound of growling. Wednesday peeled open one eye, subtly turning her head to the right. Bathed in magenta light, there was Enid, with her upper lip curled up into a doggish snarl. That was normal for Enid, so Wednesday shut her eyes and clenched her jaw.
Eventually, Enid began to settle and quiet down, and an arm was thrown over Wednesday’s waist as Enid made herself at home there. Her nose was tucked into Wednesday’s shoulder as her arm drew Wednesday in for an embrace that felt like she was being thrown into a furnace.
Wednesday’s toes curled and her knees shook. She kept her arms where they were, refusing to move an inch in case Enid woke up and saw her laying there in fright.
Enid smelled of a smoldering vanilla candle and a winter evening by firelight. It was a scent that brought Wednesday comfort, something that reminded her of being home and safe. Wednesday couldn’t help but to lean into it and soak it up for all it was worth, wiggling closer to Enid as slowly as she could.
Wednesday watched the pink light pulsate for ages until she felt Enid kick her own blanket and sheet towards the end of the bed. She was still leaned into Enid, but only inconspicuously, and got a decent look at Enid’s legs before they were tangling up with her own. She didn’t kick them away or roll from Enid’s warm hug; instead, she let one of Enid’s legs slip between both of hers and herself be reeled in tighter to Enid.
Immediately, Wednesday felt her muscles relax. She exhaled and let her arms loosen so they were at her sides. She brought a hand up to caress blonde hair out of Enid’s face, noting the scar that had been fading over time. Enid rarely ever mentioned it or complained that she had to wear it as a badge of honor, having reconciled with it soon after the attack, but Wednesday couldn’t help but to drag a gentle finger along the mark.
Enid’s nose twitched, causing Wednesday to snatch her hand away as if she had been burned. Wednesday resumed lying stiffly, trying to slow her heart down a little. She briefly considered taking the Benadryl in hopes it would knock her out and she could forget any of this ever happened.
Despite all temptation, she nestled further into Enid’s body heat, and Enid reciprocated by tangling a sleepy hand in the loose hair atop Wednesday’s head. Wednesday didn’t mind, finding the sensation of fingernails dragging down her scalp to be relaxing.
Warm breath tickled the shell of Wednesday’s ear. Sometimes Enid’s breathing irritated her when coupled with outside stimulation, but now, with only the hum of the astronaut surrounding them, it only reminded Wednesday that Enid was still alive. She was alive and breathing. She didn’t die saving Wednesday or Nevermore. She was there, fast asleep with Wednesday in her arms.
A quick sound, almost like a rubber band snapping, startled Wednesday and the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. She assumed a fuse blew and not only was she doomed to lay there with Enid’s body heat enveloping her, their air conditioning was now defunct, but she noticed that the nightlight in the bathroom was still aglow from under the door, and so she settled back down and nudged Enid with an elbow.
“Enid,” she whispered. “Enid, I think your astronaut committed suicide.”
“Hm?” Enid groaned, awkwardly lifting her head but leaving both eyes closed. “Who went down the slide?”
Wednesday rolled her eyes. “Your astronaut light. I think it’s broken. It turned off.”
“Oh.” Enid dropped her head back into Wednesday’s shoulder. “It’s on a timer for two hours. Saves energy. Gotta save the planet. Mhm.”
Two hours!
Wednesday had not thought it had been so long since they’d laid down. Moreover, she hadn’t thought she had been ruminating for so long without driving herself insane. It was impressive, really.
Enid’s body slumped as she fell back asleep, this time her mouth coming open to form a puddle of drool on Wednesday’s shoulder. Wednesday didn’t bother wiping it away, only allowing herself to be further drawn into a rising and falling chest.
After some shifting and relentless wiggling, Wednesday’s face was safely tucked in Enid’s neck and she could absorb the soft scent of vanilla without seeming strange. Enid’s arm was still protectively draped over her waist and she was still breathing.
If Wednesday was still enough, she could hear the thumping of Enid’s heart in her ear. She shifted again, this time trapping Enid’s leg between hers and burying her face closer to Enid’s skin. If they were any closer, they would’ve been conjoined or sewn together.
Between snores, Enid mumbled in her sleep. It was incoherent rambling, but Wednesday waited with bated breath, listening as much as her tired ears could in such darkness.
“…Love you…” she muttered before a snore tore through her throat.
Wednesday’s eyebrows furrowed. She shuffled nearer and tilted her chin up even if she could only barely make out the silhouette of Enid’s jawline moving.
“I love you…’Day…”
Wednesday sucked in a breath. She hesitated a moment before settling down next to Enid and resuming laying her head against her chest. She grabbed fistfuls of Enid’s pajama shirt, tugging her closer as she slept. Even in such darkness, Wednesday found Enid’s lips and gave them a gentle kiss.
“The feeling is mutual, Enid.”
—
The next morning, while Enid was meeting with her Poe Cup posse—at least that was what Wednesday called them—down in the quad for a ridiculously early meeting that was probably centered around what kind of paint to use, Wednesday was getting dressed and trying to massage a knot out of her neck while simultaneously trying to crack her own back.
She had been able to wash the smell of vanilla off her skin, but her pajamas were spoken for and ended up in the laundry pile the first chance she had. Fortunately, her hives were not too extreme, only a few itchy patches painted here and there. She lathered up in calamine lotion and brushed her teeth while it dried in a chalky layer on her skin.
As she was pulling on her uniform, she was interrupted by a subtle knock at the door. Curious yet more than apprehensive, she hesitated for a minute before carefully opening the door and poking her head out. The doorstep was barren, but when she looked down, she found her bedsheets, folded up into a nice square, with a note pinned to the seam. She gathered them into her arms and admired the handiwork of whoever folded them.
Wednesday,
I found your bedsheets in one of the dryers. It seems I overlooked them while I was sorting yesterday. I apologize for the inconvenience and delay.
—Mrs. Calixo
Wednesday brought them inside and took them to her skeleton of a bed. She plucked the note from the sheet and began unfolding it, but she quickly stopped and glanced at Enid’s bed. She had made it up to the best of her ability, relying solely on her memory of Enid’s preferences, and it looked quite nice.
She recalled the way Enid held her last night, the sincerity in her sleepy voice when she told Wednesday she loved her, the shine in her blue eyes when they fluttered open to find that Wednesday was still there in her arms come the golden morning light. It all felt like some sort of fever dream, like something out of a child’s happy book of fairytales, but Wednesday didn’t hate it.
She picked up the folded sheets and stuffed them into her bedside trash can that was due to be collected in the evening and would become minced meat in the incinerator by dinner time. She tossed some crumpled papers on top for good measure, nodding at her craftiness with her arms folded as she chuckled.
She smirked to herself and slipped into her blazer, tapping the trash can with her foot.
“What bedsheets?”