If the roots get hold of your heart, they'll never set you free

“Enid Sinclair. We must converse.”

The deadpan statement came from the other side of their room. In a completely normal volume, with little to no emotion, but something in the tone nevertheless made Enid involuntarily sit up straight from where she had been lounging on her bed. Wednesday Addams never just wanted to chat about nothing. And, sure, while two years living in close proximity with Wednesday and all of her oddities may have brought Enid to a place where she liked and implicitly trusted her roommate, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t be nervous upon hearing the statement.

Wednesday continued, not turning around from where she sat at her typewriter, though her fingers had stilled against the keys. “It is imperative that I inform you that I have fallen in love with you.”

At that, Enid’s brain shut down entirely. A good minute passed, at least, in which she sat frozen in place, one leg going dead where it was folded beneath her. Mouth slightly agape, a gentle crease fixed between her brows.

“Enid. Did you have your headphones in?” Wednesday asked. “Did you hear that I communicated my undying love for you?”

“No, I—” Enid began. “What?”

“Enid, I lov—”

Cutting her off, Enid shook herself violently from her stupor and responded, “Wednesday, I heard you. Just… god! You can’t just say things like that!”

“It was a moderately notable development in my life that also pertained to you, so it felt appropriate to ensure that you were abreast of the current situation.”

“Yes, but…”

Only now did Wednesday turn. A slight shadow flickered over her already dark eyes, and her own brows creased ever so slightly. “I am not entitled to your reciprocation, of course. But my assessment of the circumstances had given me hope that this was not entirely unrequited. That you would at least be willing to entertain the concept of courtship with me. Was I wrong?”

“My brain is still just catching up, okay!” Enid said, part sigh, part scream, and part sob. “Of course I like you! We just… you… I’ve still been coming to terms with it, and I honestly thought it would take years of tiptoeing around one another if it ever happened at all, and yet here you are… just… urgh! Saying it like you’re commenting on the weather.”

“Both are phenomena outside of my control, that on occasion warrant observation,” Wednesday noted, as if the two things were remotely similar. But she gave a small shake of her head, and continued, “Nevertheless, I am pleased to hear that you have a positive emotional disposition toward me. It would have been inconvenient if not.”

Enid could only splutter out, “Inconvenient? You don’t mean sad or even devastated?”

“Both of those are emotions that would bring immense pain, but pain is something with which I am familiar and upon occasion even enjoy. The consequent inconvenience of your rejection would be a more complicated challenge.”

“I wouldn’t kick you out of our room or anything. Even if I didn’t feel the same, I wouldn’t push you away!” Enid said, trying to piece together exactly what kind of inconvenience Wednesday was referring to.

“Oh, nothing so mundane,” Wednesday explained. “Rather, the unbroken precedent in my family line is that not being loved in return will result in, at the very least, the descent into utter madness, if not rapid decline and then death.”

“Are you trying to tell me that Addams can die of heartbreak?” Enid asked, incredulous.

“So history would suggest. My father calls it a curse, but I’m more inclined to view it as a consequence of excessive sentimentality. Nevertheless, the data is consistent, so I must take the risk seriously.”

“Wednesday Addams, did you confess your feelings because of data?”

“All observations, including of my own emotional state, can be considered datapoints. Aggregating these into patterns is the only way to generate meaning. Therefore, there is no thing that I could tell you that I believe to be true that is not driven by data,” Wednesday said.

“Urgh,” Enid said, finally letting her stiff posture drop and collapsed backward onto her bed. She hid her face behind her hands in defeat. “I had to fall in love not just with a murder goth but also with the biggest nerd in existence.”

“Ah, interesting,” Wednesday replied. “Your previous response used the term ‘like,’ but I appreciate the candid clarification that you do in fact consider the term ‘love’ more appropriate.”

“That’s what you take from that?”

Wednesday merely gave her a bemused look, her head tilted ever so slightly.

“Never mind. How long?”

“Theoretically forever. Addams’ love typically lasts even beyond death.”

“No, Wednesday. I expected that, at least. Though it’s a little… intimidating. I mean, how long have you liked… loved me?” Enid asked.

“Oh, my apologies for misunderstanding. The realisation came to me this morning.”

“It’s barely past midday!” Enid all but yelled. “What could I have possibly done this morning for you to sprint through a whole emotional journey since then and blurt out your love for me?”

“You laughed at something inane that Tanaka said, while consuming your beverage, and iced coffee came out through your nose,” said Wednesday, still entirely deadpan.

Enid groaned again. “How is that what did it? It was so humiliating.”

“Love is an inexplicable thing,” Wednesday said, as if that explained anything at all.

“I low key hate that my coffee snort is our origin story,” said Enid. “I still can’t get over that you’ve said all this after only a few hours.”

“Perhaps I should clarify. This morning was the moment of realisation. Upon reflection, I am inclined to believe that my predicament began manifesting two years ago.”

“Wednesday…” Enid said, her tone level and cautious. “We met for the first time approximately two years ago.”

“Then that timeframe seems appropriate. I appreciate you corroborating my theory.”

“I thought you hated me at first!”

Wednesday paused, uncharacteristically letting a moment of uncertainty flicker across her face. Not in a way that anyone else would notice, but Enid had learned to read her little tells. Then, “I will admit, I had some difficulty in interpreting the difference. It was identifiable as a kind of intensity, but being unfamiliar with romantic afflictions, I perhaps incorrectly classified it as a negative emotion. I wanted to vomit upon first seeing you, but considering that I still maintain the sensation of a deeply upset stomach whenever you smile, akin perhaps to spiders or bats colonising my digestive system, I have reassessed that experience.”

“Fuck, what is wrong with me? That’s so disturbing of you to say, but god it sounds romantic to me now,” Enid groaned again.

“Enid, I believe we have exhausted the possibilities of this conversation, having expressed and explained all of the relevant facts of the matter, and are now speaking in circles. You have my gratitude for hearing me out.” With that, Wednesday rotated in her chair back to her typewriter, and spread her fingers out across the keys in preparation of resuming her writing.

How were they done? Enid still felt like she had a million and more thoughts and feelings roiling inside her torso that were demanding release, even if the exact words were difficult to form. The nonchalance with which Wednesday had told Enid that she loved her (Wednesday loved her…) had been the complete opposite of any assumption that Enid had made about how Wednesday processed feelings. Sure, it was consistent with her usual detachment, but that was precisely why Enid was so sure that Wednesday would bottle it up and struggle through an extended period of repressed suffering. Of course she was elated. Enid had been dreaming of this—and then telling herself off for dreaming of this—for at least the last year, since that fateful night on which she had wolfed out for the first time. For Wednesday.

But she wasn’t prepared!

“Just…” Enid said. She climbed up from her bed, and walked toward where Wednesday’s line of duct tape had once separated their shared space. A past vestige of their division, which had now so monumentally collapsed. “What now?”

Wednesday sighed, almost as if she hadn’t expected needing to deal with the ramifications of expressing her feelings. (And maybe she hadn’t?) Meeting Enid in the middle, mirrored on her side of the room, Wednesday said, “Can you please be more specific with your question? Because the immediate answer is that I intend to return to my novel.”

“I mean, fine. You’re going to need to give me time to talk and rant and gush about all this, even if you hate it. But if you need thinking space for a little while, I can respect that,” Enid promised. She didn’t want to have to stew in silence, and wasn’t sure yet whether she could tell anyone else and get it out of her system yet.

“What more is there to think about?” Wednesday asked. “My novel is hardly a subconscious outlet for my unprocessed thoughts and feelings. It is an entirely fictional narrative in which events fundamentally separate from our… from my own existence occur.”

That was not bait that Enid was ready to take right now. She only let herself raise an eyebrow, which Wednesday either promptly ignored or failed to notice entirely. Instead, Enid said, “Are we dating? Are we girlfriends? Can I hug you? Or… do you just think we can carry on as we were?”

“What we have is not bad, is it?” Wednesday asked, seeming even a little hurt with the way that her voice barely broke.

“No, of course not! It’s just… girlfriends do act differently than friends or roommates.”

“I suppose you are not incorrect,” Wednesday said. “Though, the term ‘girlfriend’ connotes a kind of relationship that is entirely too modern for my sensibilities. I would prefer ‘paramour,’ or ‘intended,’ or ‘beloved,’ or ‘betrothed’.”

“Of course you would.” It was truly remarkable how Wednesday could simultaneously inspire such adoration and affection, alongside bewilderment and frustration, in Enid. “Doesn’t ‘betrothed’ imply that we’re, um, engaged?”

“Engagement is a stage in this relationship that we will obtain within time. I do not expect to formalise it today. But know this—I do not date in a casual sense. I will not, even for you. My declaration of my feelings was also a declaration of intention. If we end this conversation agreeing to court, then that is an irreversible decision in my mind. Do you understand?”

Enid nodded, struck dumb for a moment. Then, gathering herself, she replied, “Forever is a long time, Wednesday. But right now, I want forever with you.”

“With that cleared up,” Wednesday said. What did she think this was, a business transaction where the terms needed to be clarified? A mystery that needed to be solved? Knowing Wednesday, neither was out of the question. “You had one outstanding question.”

“Um, I did?”

“You asked whether we could hug.”

“Oh! Only if you’re comfortable, I know that you—” Enid began. But she cut herself short with an undignified squeak as Wednesday stepped forward, physically crossing the invisible line that lingered between them, which she had only ever done a very small handful of times before.

“I will allow it.”

“Um, thank you? I would like that…”

Stepping forward also, Enid cautiously folded her arms around the small frame of her… girlfriend? It was not the desperate rush of their last hug, a full year before, where Enid had needed to know that Wednesday was safe and hold her so tight that she could feel it in her bones. But, it was also still pretty monumental in Enid’s mind, no matter how stiff and awkward.

Wednesday did not obviously return the embrace. Her arms remained rigid at her side, her spine dead straight. However, after a moment, Enid did feel Wednesday lean her head forward slightly. It was fractional, but along with the tiny pivot of Wednesday’s nose toward her neck, Enid was convinced that this was Wednesday’s version of nuzzling. The smaller girl breathed in a long, deep sigh, which Enid thought was maybe even Wednesday taking in the warmth and scent of Enid.

Overcome with affection, Enid gripped tighter, ever so slightly picking Wednesday up off the floor before she even fully registered what she was doing.

“Beloved, I request that you put me down. This is undignified.”

“Oh, sorry babe!”

“What?”

“Sorry… babe?” Enid repeated, more uncertain. Then, “You used a pet name, so I thought I’d try—”

“I will allow you the label ‘girlfriend’ if that is what you require,” Wednesday interrupted firmly. “But we will be adhering to approved terms of endearment from this point forward. For clarity, ‘babe’ does not have my approval.”

“Sugarplum?” Enid asked. The glare that she received in response was truly frightening, but any tiny spec of lingering fear that Enid may have been holding onto about Wednesday had been thoroughly snuffed over the last few minutes. And it had never stopped her from teasing Wednesday before. Now she simply had more options.

“My promise from our first meeting to smother you in your sleep remains unfulfilled, but I can change that, querida,” Wednesday threatened.

“You literally just told me that you will die if I’m not around to love you, pookie bear.”

“Then my family will bury us side by side, and we can remain together for an eternity, ma chérie. In blissful silence.”

It was blindingly obvious that Wednesday saw red. Enid just picked her up again, grinning.

“Whatever you wish, babycakes.”