Chapter Text
Oddly enough, what initially catches Enid’s attention are the bins of toys stacked neatly in the corner behind the door when she first walks in. Organized by type: dolls, vehicles, and connecting blocks are stacked in each one. Wednesday trails behind her in a slow stroll.
The office they step into is spacious enough that Enid doesn’t feel her nape prickle with the sensation of being caged in, but Wednesday still glances longingly at the closed door as she walks further inside. Her gaze shoots around the room for another exit, finds none. Art adorns three of four walls, except for multiple degrees displayed on the wall behind a large desk across the room. Toward the center of the room is a large brown leather sofa. Wednesday takes one cushion and sits squarely in the middle. Enid sits beside her on the other cushion. Both of their legs cross away from each other. Wednesday folds her arms across her chest while Enid fidgets with one of two buns she’s twisted her hair into. She places her wringing hands in her lap. A fleeting thought of whether she's dressed appropriately in a pastel pair of slacks and an equally pastel purple shirt crosses her mind before she discards the thought.
Wednesday doesn’t move a muscle. A laundry list of activities worth her time cycles through her head, from volunteering to clean tombstones at a local cemetery to straight up grave robbing.
A statuesque figure topped with short platinum hair smiles brightly at them through a red mouth in a way that eases Enid’s shoulders but drives Wednesday to the edge of a cliff where she hopes to jump off.
Her heels click in time with each ticking second until she comes to stand before them. “Good afternoon, thanks for coming in today. I understand this is your first session. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Larissa Weems, (she/her), and I’m a licensed outpatient therapist with nearly 20 years of experience in couples therapy.” She folds primly into a similarly styled chair as the sofa they occupy. “Would you mind introducing yourselves and providing your pronouns?”
"I’m Enid, (she/her)."
"Wednesday." Her gaze is unwavering as she unfolds her arms and leans forward in her seat to say, "I don’t respond to anything, not even my own name."
Enid scoffs. "She’ll respond to any pronoun. She’s just being a grouch right now."
"Hmm." Larissa stares at Wednesday for a long moment. "All right. Well, again, welcome to my office, and welcome to couples therapy." She looks between the two of them. "Are either of you familiar with outpatient therapeutic services?"
"I have my own therapist," Enid says. When Wednesday fails to respond, she says, "And she doesn’t."
Wednesday says nothing.
"I see," Larissa responds in a way that conveys understanding beyond Enid’s statement. "I always like to begin by letting patients know of their rights to confidentiality. What we discuss here in therapy will remain confidential. However, this is not an absolute. Should I learn of child abuse or neglect, or elder abuse and neglect, murder—"
Wednesday shifts with discomfort.
"—I shall have to report my findings to the local authorities, as I am a mandated reporter. Likewise, if I am subpoenaed by a court system, then I am compelled to comply and possibly divulge information shared within our sessions."
Enid nods. "Yep, same as with my therapist."
Larissa smiles. She looks between the two of them. "If it’s okay with you, I’ll begin the intake process now. It’s no more than a series of questions to learn each of you within the context of this couple, how you show up, and your combined dynamic. We’ll start with the basics. What brings you in today?"
Wednesday casts a sidelong glance in Enid’s direction when she sits straighter in her seat to begin.
"We’ve been together for five years, Dr. Weems—"
"She’s not a doctor," Wednesday says at the same time Larissa says, I’m not a doctor.
"And sometimes it just feels like…" Enid searches for the words, "like I don’t know her. And she doesn’t know me."
Larissa hums and sits back in her seat. She looks to Wednesday. "And what do you think?"
"I think this is already a colossal waste of my time."
She nods. "Your partner expresses concern in therapy and you view this as a waste of your time?"
"That isn’t what I said."
"All right. What are you saying?"
Wednesday finally cuts her eyes to Larissa and her words lash out from the whip of her tongue. "I’m saying I know Enid inside and out, and she knows me well enough; and neither of us need to be here speaking with you. Where is the benefit?"
"I’ll ask you that question," Larissa says smoothly, unruffled with an affable smile. "What is the benefit of seeking therapy with your partner who wants it?"
Wednesday’s face smooths to impassivity.
She doesn’t speak.
And something within Enid discharges. A large electric pulse surges through her limbs as she gestures emphatically toward Wednesday, face scrunched in irritation. "This is another thing! She stonewalls me all the time."
Wednesday’s exterior chars and chaffs. "I do not."
"Yes, you do!"
"I do no—"
"What I’m sensing," Larissa interjects, "is a lot of tension."
"Call the local newspaper," Wednesday begins in a droll tone, "we have an investigative journalist on our hands."
"Just a qualified therapist," Larissa reminds. She leans forward in her seat and holds Wednesday’s gaze. "What I also sense is a very defensive defense mechanism that aids in, as Enid aptly put it, stonewalling."
"I don’t stonewall," Wednesday returns, each word a talon. "I am a fortress. And anything I deign you unworthy of knowing about me, count yourself lucky in the reduction of macabre memories you’ll have to recall from our short time together."
Larissa raises an eyebrow.
Enid turns to face her fully. "Short time? Do you plan on skipping out on therapy without talking to me about it first?" Her head tilts in a way that conveys piqued interest in the next words that will leave Wednesday’s mouth.
Larissa assesses the two of them. "It would appear that maybe things got off on the wrong foot."
"It’s the only foot to get off on with her," Enid grumbles, to Wednesday’s confusion.
"What does that even mean?" she asks lowly.
"It means—"
"I think," Larissa interjects again, "I think there will be plenty of time to get down into the weeds of things. For now, I’d like to get to know you both, if that’s all right." She smiles at the two of them in an attempt to change the temperature of the room. "How did you meet?"
Enid’s boundless optimism shines through her face in a smile. "We were roommates," she immediately says. "Back at Nevermore Academy."
Larissa pauses in thought then says, "Never heard of it."
"It's a school for people with abilities. I'm a Fur. Wednesday's a Raven."
"Hmm, I see." She looks to Wednesday. "I trust this was a harmonious union, when the two of you met."
"When I met Enid, I foresaw her dea—" Wednesday looks to Enid then back to Larissa "—I foresaw disaster and calamity befall her at my hands," she says. She adopts a far off expression and says, "I suppose it was one of few times I’ve been wrong about something."
Enid absentmindedly rubs her eye then sighs at herself when she notices blue eyeshadow on her thumb. "I didn’t like her either." Her lips fold inward before she says, "That’s not true. I wanted to like her, but she made it really hard. Then one day, I just…got her, you know? I understood her more."
Wednesday’s gaze falls to the floor then through it completely.
"I’d like to think she got me, too," Enid mumbles.
Larissa nods. She lets Enid’s statement sit on the air as they sit in silence. "Do you feel that you understood her, Wednesday?"
"Yes."
"And when was this moment? When did the two of you feel you’d come to an understanding?"
Enid fidgets with her hands in her lap. "When our parents came to visit the first year. I feel like I got to see all of Wednesday’s stuff. Like, her relationships with her parents and her brother. It added more to her than the meanness we all saw."
"You all saw?" Larissa’s chuckle pitches high in confusion. "Surely that’s an exaggeration."
"It isn’t," Wednesday says and, for once, her tone sounds conversational. "I struck fear into the hearts of my peers."
Enid nods in agreement then shrugs. "Except that time everyone thought she was super cool and wanted to be her friend."
She looks between the two of them to see sincerity regarding their past experiences. "More than mean," Larissa echoes Enid’s earlier sentiment. Her eyes slide to the other end of the couch. "I imagine for someone such as yourself, that’s quite the compliment."
"It wasn’t," Wednesday says.
"Wasn’t—to imply it is now."
Wednesday doesn’t respond.
"Right. So. There exists a moment in time during which the two of you understood each other." She lobs a soft challenge. "At least there’s one."
Enid shakes her head. "There’s more than one. We get each other all the time. But we also don’t get each other all the time."
Larissa nods and briefly disengages to notate Enid’s account and her own observations.
Wednesday doesn’t move visibly, though appears to retreat into herself.
Enid counts the seconds that tick by until she finally blurts, "Is this the point where you say, 'let’s take a beat?'"
Wrinkles settle between Larissa’s brows when she looks up from her documentation. "That’s quite trite. Not something I would say. However, let’s put a pin in this particular moment." She readjusts her posture to sit up straighter. "I’d like to take a moment to share my initial findings, if that’s all right with you."
Enid nods. Wednesday holds her breath.
"First, I’d venture to say that I sense deep history between the two of you, and an abundance of affection that flows both ways…though Wednesday may as well be a beaver busy building a dam at every moment."
Nothing is betrayed in Wednesday’s direct stare except a thin veil of annoyance.
"Wednesday herself admits to her own reticent nature, which suggests a certain level of insight. Your restricted affect and general difficulty with communication and social interactions may, to some, suggest an avoidant or antisocial personality at best, or perhaps even something on par with sociopathy. However—" Larissa’s smile is wry, "—I don’t believe in sociopathy or psychopathy. Too lazy a term, those two." She taps her chin in thought as she looks at Wednesday who struggles to maintain eye contact. "No, I think the symptoms you display lend themselves to neurodivergency—possibly autism."
"I’ve wondered that," Enid says, and Wednesday frowns.
"I may suggest further testing outside of my purview. For now, I’d like to share my findings about Enid."
"Me?" Already, Enid’s nerves are exposed like her skin is being pulled back layer by layer. She looks around the room in a moment of respite, then back to Larissa.
"I find it interesting how quick you are to communicate once I ask a question. I’m left hoping to eventually tease out if this is an alpha trait or symptomatic of anxiety. Your behavior presents as overly friendly, which may suggest there is actually much to uncover."
Enid’s shoulders tense, her mouth a closing door. Behind it, her words and very thoughts scatter as far away as possible, to the recesses of herself.
Larissa continues to face Enid, but cuts her gaze to Wednesday’s form faced away from them. "Observing the two of you interact may also suggest frequent boundary crossing that leaves Wednesday quite bereft at times."
The hair at her nape prickles and the heel of her shoe digs into the carpet below. She’s reminded that she skipped lunch for this appointment as agitation churns slowly to mix with her overactive stomach acid. Her affect is incongruent as Enid clasps her hands together and drops them between her legs as her shoulders draw inward in a sheepish demeanor.
As if no one would suspect she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
"I think I know what bereft means…" she says.
"Lacking something needed," Wednesday murmurs from a voice full of starvation that can’t seem to speak any louder.
Her hungry words eat at Enid until she’s carved out and empty. The husk of herself slumps back against the couch cushion, despondent.
The entire room is gnawed, and Larissa senses the gaping wound that’s briefly split open. She opens and closes her mouth in a failed start. Her lips purse in thought then she softly suggests, "Let’s take a beat."