Hello, everyone! I hope your New Year was wonderful and I am so sorry that is has been ages (at least that is how it feels) since I've updated. I just got through with surgery and could not sit up with my laptop for a while. But, I am back now and so excited to continue with this story! I cannot thank you enough for your reviews and continued support. It truly does mean the world to me. Now, where were we? Oh, now I remember…
Chapter 12: The Most Elite Women of the Highest Social Standing Alive Today in Briarwood, Massachusetts… and The Witch
Morticia awoke from a restless slumber, if she could even call it that. This was how she had woken up for the past four days now. She hated it.
She missed the feeling of falling asleep while Gomez cradled her in his strong, protective arms. Every night, she would thank the universe that she had him, there with her, for all eternity… or so she thought.
Her sister, her very own flesh and blood (no matter how much Morticia despised that fact, Ophelia was indeed her flesh and blood), had stolen him away from her. So now, every night since Sensus Inversus set in, the only thing Morticia could do was wait. Wait, and hope that Gomez would come find her and bid her goodnight. Because, if Morticia could not be held in his arms that night, at least she could have a fresh memory of his face… and perhaps, she could pretend he was with her.
Morticia's eyes fully fluttered open, and she glanced at the clock on her guest bedroom wall.
The guest bedroom was large, but not nearly as large as the master bedroom located on the fifth floor, a floor above where she slept. Its wallpaper was cream coloured, with a wooden boarder of the same colour as the floor. The floor, was of a darker wood than most of the house. The bed was king sized, and comfortable enough. However, it might as well have been a piece of cardboard with Gomez not sharing the mattress with her.
That was all it was, Morticia realized that first night. A mattress. Just a mattress. Gomez and those beautiful memories had made their old marital bed just that. A bed. A beautiful, comfortable, safe, bed. But that was the thing. As long as he was there, a piece of cardboard could be a bed. It was not on their old mattress that Morticia used to feel safe. It was in their old bed that she felt nothing could ever happen to her. And their old bed, she understood then, could have been anywhere. Because the only thing Morticia ever needed to sleep, and sleep safely, was her husband. He could make a bed, he did, make a bed. He made her bed, her bed of roses- no. No, Morticia hated those blasted petals. Gomez made her bed, her bed of dead roses, and she would willingly throw herself in and at that bed for the rest of eternity, and even after that. But that bed was gone. That bed was something only she and Gomez could ever have. Now, the bed that Morticia slept in was not a bed at all. It was simply a mattress. Just, a well-dressed, mattress.
The satin sheets of the mattress were ivory with grey, Victorian designs covering them. There was a medium-sized, dark brown, wooden headboard. Encircling the bed, was a silk, off-white canopy that Morticia typically had pulled back. By the wooden door with a diamond handle, there was a grey and white vanity-type dresser with white crystal handles. The curtains at the large window were white, which Morticia was -by now- all together sick of seeing, and the room came equipped with a walk-in closet.
Morticia grimaced. Was this truly the darkest guestroom in the house? She still could not believe it. However, she supposed it had something to do with the dark colour of the floor.
Gracefully, the gothic beauty stretched and gave a silent yawn. It was 11:00 am.
She looked around the awful room, and just in case, looked beside her. Every morning, even though Morticia knew Sensus Inversus was real, even though she knew that her love was upstairs, sleeping with the enemy, she checked for him. She checked to make sure that this wasn't a dream, and to remind herself that, no, Gomez was not going to wake up beside her and listen to her tell him of her wild dream, while he kissed her and asked if he could make her feel better, meaning make love to her and make her forget about it. And please, would be her only reply this time while he made damned sure that Morticia knew who she would always belong to. But, her bed of dead roses was upstairs, she had to remind herself. And while he was only upstairs, it was at times like this that he felt worlds away. And in a way, he was.
Morticia walked over to the closet, took out a dress and began to ready herself for the day. In an hour, she was finished, and she stood in the oversized vanity mirror, taking a look at her reflection before exiting the room.
That unfortunately bright day on September 18th, Morticia wore a long, gothic dress that extended down past her ankles, as usual. It was a darker shade of black, very low cut and tight, showcasing her gorgeous curves. The dress was not as elaborate as some of her others, but it was tied in the back like a corset, with black laces. She wore black tights and of course, her black, three and a half inch high heels. At the top of the heels of the shoes, were a few, small yet sharp, silver spikes. She wore her signature smoky eyes, and crimson lipstick. Her delicate, red-tipped fingers did not fumble with the thin, black choker she decided on, but instead, elegantly adjusted it to fit her neck, and let it sit.
Morticia heard an approving his.
"I like it." Morticia noticed Grimm, or Charles, as it was his real name, situating himself atop the mirror.
"Thank you, father." Morticia gave an acknowledging nod.
"Hanging in there, darling?" Charles asked.
"No." Morticia replied and wrapped the snake around her neck. "But if this doesn't work out soon, I will be." And it wasn't a lie. She would quite literally die without her husband, so she either had less than one month to get her darling amour back, or she had less than one month to live.
Charles sighed, nervous for his daughter. "Good to know."
Morticia raised an eyebrow, thinking to herself. "Is it?" She asked.
Charles said nothing for a minute, then responded with an, "I'm not sure."
Morticia, understanding, opened the door and stepped out of the room without a word.
She decided she would retreat to the second floor living room and sit for a while. Perhaps, if she was feeling bold, she could ring for Jeeves and request tea? No, something was off about that man. However, Morticia could not place her finger on what it was.
"Don't look now, dear, but guess who just passed behind us again." Charles wanted to roll his snake eyes.
"Really?" Morticia whispered as she walked down the not-so-eerily silent halls of the Addams mansion. "This is the third time."
"Does he think he's being subtle?" Charles questioned. He noticed how Jeeves kept lurking in doorways or archways, or behind walls, doing whatever he could to blend in. And he had a weird, almost pedophilic, grin spread across his face. Little did Charles and his daughter now that Jeeves was an internal bundle of nerves, and looked this way because he was actively trying not to.
Morticia did not want to risk conversing with her father if she was, indeed, being watched. So, she simply nodded and continued walking, hoping that her father took the hint to shush up.
Jeeves (subtly, in his own rattled mind) followed Morticia until he saw where she was going, confused as to why she was talking to that snake, but writing it off as a weirdo thing.
Morticia soon turned down the second-floor hall, coming to the double doors, and opening them.
Ophelia, dressed in a short, pastel blue skirt, a slightly low cut white blouse with elbow length sleeves and white, open-toed high heels, picked up her teacup with her freshly manicured nails and sipped her tea. "Yes, and you should see the way she dresses." She laughed. "One couldn't tell she's an Ivorybrooke girl. She looks like she came straight out of a Stephen King book. What could one expect? With a name like- Morticia." Ophelia froze when the girls turned to look behind her, and she noticed her sister had been standing there.
Morticia stood there, poised, unfazed and expressionless.
Half of the group of women held back laughter, while the other half just stared at the dark enchantress, mesmerized. They hadn't thought she would be beautiful, but here she was… quite possibly prettier than their leader.
Grateful that Charles had not hissed, and knowing that the girls were waiting for her next move, Morticia allowed her dark, angelic voice escaped her lips. "I should tell you, Ophelia, when talking about someone, it is best to make sure that someone can't hear you." She advised. "Not that I would know from personal experience." Her voice was calm, as usual, but had an undeniable edge to it.
Linda, Suzanne, Donna and Gail all stared at the sisters, most intensely at Ophelia. What was she going to do?
Ophelia held back a gulp and composed herself. "Oh, don't be silly, Morticia." She said. "We were talking about you but it was all good things." She paused, and looked to her friends. "Right, girls?"
Not a single one of the ladies backed her up. Instead, they all sipped their tea, in unison.
Charles went full snake and hissed at the girls, unable to conceal his anger, as Morticia walked closer to the group.
"I'm certain you were." Morticia responded, not buying it.
Linda, second-in-command, was the first to speak to Morticia. She gestured to an empty chair, between Ophelia and Suzanne. "Why don't you come sit with us?"
Morticia stroked her snake, a subtle reminder to try and keep quiet, and sat in the empty chair. She bent over, sophisticatedly and poured herself a cup of tea.
Suzanne, although she would not admit it, could not stop staring at Morticia's chest. It looked much more natural than her own ever would. But with so much plastic surgery on Suzanne's part, it was bound to.
Morticia looked the woman up and down, and Suzanne knew she had to say something.
"Well, we just didn't know what to think when Ophelia told us you were here." She said to her.
Morticia successfully held back a chuckle. Did these women take her for a fool? "Really?" She stirred her tea. "It seems to me like you had quite a good idea."
Sheepishly, Suzanne looked down at her tea, oddly growing cold, despite the heat. She could not help but think it had something to do with the witch in too-close proximity to her.
Donna decided to chime in, and turned her head to Morticia. "So, Morticia?" Donna gave a disingenuously friendly smile. "Do you have a husband?"
The girls gulped and stared, in horrour as Morticia removed the crimson gem from her silver ring, and poured what looked like blood from the empty socket into her tea. Before stirring the blood into her tea, she capped her ring. Then, she turned her attention to a stunned and frightened Donna. "No." She answered and side-eyed her older sister.
"Just haven't found the right man yet?" Donna questioned.
"No, I've found him." Morticia replied. "He just hasn't found me."
Suzanne was unable to ignore the fact that the woman before her was almost certainly drinking what people in her social group tried to actively avoid. Her fake nail pointed at the cup in Morticia's hands. "What's that?"
"Oh, just a bit of blood and arsenic." Morticia said, nonchalantly and sipped her tea.
The women shared yet another look of alarm.
Ophelia, status in jeopardy, laughed, nervously. "Oh, my sister is quite the kidder!"
"I didn't know you had a second sister." Morticia chuckled at the implication that she was in fact, not kidding.
Linda and the girls shifted, uncomfortably.
Knowing she had to do something, quickly, Ophelia turned to her sister and said, abruptly, "Alright, well, Morticia, it was so nice to see you this morning. But, I do believe the kids wanted to say goodbye to you before they caught the bus."
Morticia raised an eyebrow. "The children go to school on Saturday?"
Ophelia wanted to die of embarrassment, and was all but ready to tear her sisters head off, but she knew she couldn't do that, and so did Morticia. So, despite the fact that she would almost rather shoot her brains out, she smiled, and pretended to remain classy. "Oh, there's just so much on my mind." She explained it away. "Forgive me, dear sister."
The girls may have smiled at how proper Ophelia was being, but it was absolutely killing her.
Morticia knew it, and did quite enjoy having the upper hand on her sister. Still, she knew what overstepping her limit was, and she had to abide by it. She may enjoy the power now, but she would much rather enjoy Gomez later. "You're forgiven."
Ophelia nodded a thank you. It sickened her to be half-mercilessly dragged across the concrete by her sister in front of her high society friends, but she could not say anything. Morticia would get hers. Ophelia would see to that.
The women resumed a bit more normal conversation (to them, anyways), but Morticia stayed silent for most of it. She was not the type to pretend to be interested in a topic for the sake of bittersweet revenge. And that was not about to change now.
But, thankfully for her, it didn't have to.
Gomez, in his black, light, short-sleeved shirt, dark blue jeans, and black boots walked into the room. He noticed the women and immediately put on his, I love my life face.
"Good morning." He said, the same feigned happiness in his voice. That was the case, at least, until his eyes fell upon Morticia.
Ophelia waited for her usual kiss she got when in the presence of the girls, but it was in vain.
Gomez quickly walked over to stand between his wife's chair and his sister-in-law's chair, and he could not help but lean toward his sister in law. Stop it. Gomez's mind told him, coolly. Control yourself, old man. When he shifted more, he planted his feet, firmly in a straight position. Stop leaning, you bastard. God, why are you even here right now? You want to see your wife this early in the morning? That better be your answer, because all hell will break loose if it isn't. Gomez lightly sighed and stayed between the two chairs.
"Good morning, darling." Ophelia smiled.
Gomez tore his gaze from the goddess to his right and looked at his wife. "Good morning." He paused, knowing he was forgetting something.
Expectantly, the group of women waited.
Gomez snapped back to reality and planted a kiss on his wife's cheek. "Good morning." He said again.
Morticia wanted to grab Gomez and kiss him, and explain everything, especially because his gaze kept falling on her and she was defenseless against his gaze. But she couldn't, she had work to do first. So, fine, then. Fine, if she could not have him right now. But, by God was she going to pull out her smile for him. If she could not make him take her right now, she knew she could make him weak.
"Good morning, Gomez." Morticia set down her cup of tea.
Gomez turned his head to her. "Good morning, Morticia. How was your night?" He asked. She was looking at him that way… that way that made him forget everything and it. Was. Maddening.
His mind began to try and organize itself, but there was hurricane inside, taking out every rational thought and dumping it in the ocean. She is trying to torture you, isn't she?
"Oh, it was a bit restless but I managed." Morticia responded. She looked down at the bulge in his pants and the way he was looking at her. She smiled to herself. "I think the question is, how was yours?"
Gomez gulped. Alright, my suspicions have been confirmed. That woman is out for blood.
"Where are you going?" She inquired, upon noticing the black jacket he was carrying.
She will be the death of you.
"Rite Aid, then grocery shopping for Jeeves." Gomez answered.
It's the end.
"Grocery shopping? Would you mind if I tagged along? I would like to pick up a few little things." Morticia asked. "I'd pay, of course."
Run, fool, run. "Yes, I'd be delighted to have you come." I never thought you to be suicidal! Gomez wanted so badly for his brain to stop barking at him. He was not doing anything wrong, damn it. Well, maybe that, was just the trouble.
Ophelia was at a crossroads. God, she did not know which was worse. Let her sister alone with her husband so she has the chance to seduce him? Or let her sister stay with her and turn her once high society life into a mockery?
She was getting no help whatsoever from any of the girls, nor would she at any point. This decision, like so many others before, would have to be made on her own. If she could make the conscious decision to attempt to destroy her little sister, if she could make the conscious decision to use and abuse anyone she pleased, if she could make the conscious decision to enact Sensus Inversus, then this struggle should be nonexistent. Yet, here she was, conflicted due to the mere presence of Morticia.
"Thank you." Morticia stood up and Gomez took her arm.
Contact. Oh, how starved Morticia was for contact with him. Even if it was a subtle movement, just a touch, it was enough right now. He had not so effortlessly, adoringly linked arms with her since he remembered her. Morticia felt herself fight for her breathing to remain under control.
"Oh, I'd offer to come, darling." Ophelia broke the newfound silence in the room. "But, it would terribly inconsiderate of me to leave the girls." She batted her eyes, sweetly and looked at the women, seemingly asking for approval.
"Well, I do live quite a few blocks away." Finally, Suzanne was helping her out.
"Of course." Gomez seemed all for being alone with Morticia, and he wanted to shoot himself for it.
"It was…" Morticia's eyes shifted, simply adding to her eccentricity. "nice to meet you ladies."
"Mmm… nice to meet you too." Linda seemed like she was trying to smile, but ended up looking like she had just sucked on a lemon.
"Well, I suppose you two should be going, then." Ophelia decided it best to act like she thought Morticia would never be capable of seducing her husband, for the purposes of fooling everyone else.
Gomez knew he had to act like he was not bursting inside, so he remained calm on the outside best he could and tried to think of what he usually said to her. Think, Gomez, think, damn it! Goodbye, darling? No. Children are…? What, at school? Of course not, you fool it's Saturday. Ah, yes, here: "I just might make a pit stop and bring you back a present, my dear."
"Could it be that necklace I saw last week?" Ophelia made herself sound excited.
"We'll see." Gomez replied. "Ladies." He gave a slight bow to bid the women farewell.
"Gomez." The ladies all smiled and acknowledged Mr. Addams in unison.
"We hope to see you again soon, Morticia." Gail said and sipped her bland tea.
"And I, you." Morticia replied. "You ladies have a nice day." She then was being led out of the room by Gomez, after he kissed Ophelia goodbye.
Once she heard the door close, the ladies' silence stopped. They burst into laughter.
"She really does look like she belongs in Dracula's family!" Donna laughed.
"No." Linda shook her head, smoothing down her bright yellow summer dress. "I would say a demon from The Exorcist!"
"Ladies, lets be respectful. She looks like a witch." Gail said.
Suzanne scoffed. "Yea, a witch who I don't want near my husband."
Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Please, Suzanne, she looks dead. Unless Norman is into necrophilia, I don't think you have anything to worry about."
For Ophelia, it felt good to mock her sister, because if even for just a minute, she could pretend she was the pretty one. She could pretend that this was always the way everything was, and that she was the one who never had to use her body to get what she wanted… but she was. However, Linda and the girls didn't need to know that… and, they didn't.
Gomez opened the door for Morticia and she got into the passenger seat of the Ferrari, the type of car which Morticia had admittedly never ridden in. She never had the desire to, but she could, she would go anywhere with Gomez Addams.
"I find it humorous how they think I can't hear them." Morticia said, closing the door.
Gomez started the car. He nodded, knowing what she meant. "I find it disgusting." He said, honestly. "It really does pain me to see you get treated that way."
Morticia gave a small laugh, quietly to herself.
But, Gomez did hear it and he raised an eyebrow at her as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Feeling the need to explain herself, Morticia spoke. "Hurt and pain." She reminisced, forgetting Gomez probably didn't even know what that meant.
Gomez nodded, now driving down Candletop Hill. "Ah, yes. Forgive me. It hurts me to see them treat you that way?"
Morticia appeared surprised by this. "You remember?"
"Of course, I do. It was only the most insightful quote I've heard next to our own Addams credo." Gomez paused and put a hand on hers, briefly. "Although, I may be a bit bias."
Morticia laughed. "You may be."
Gomez turned on the radio at a lowered volume, and then stole another glance at Morticia. "You know why they said those things about you, don't you?" He asked.
Morticia looked over at him. "No." She admitted.
"It's because you're beautiful." God, old man, if you flirt with this woman one more time. Gomez shook off his thoughts. "The only thing I saw in those girls' eyes was raw envy."
Morticia smiled, then. Well, perhaps this wouldn't be as hard as she thought, after all. "Thank you." She paused. "So, how are things? With you and Ophelia?"
Gomez sighed. "Oh, you know…" He tried to think of a reply. "Keeping busy."
"I can imagine." Morticia responded. "So," She decided it best to make small talk. "What's your prescription for?"
"Depression." Gomez paused. "Well, anti-depressants, to be more specific."
Morticia was baffled. "Why would you want anti-depressants?"
Gomez put his hands up at the red light. "Thank you!" He agreed. "I thought I was the only one who was confused about that."
Morticia relaxed in the seat a bit. "Who suggested you take these? I wouldn't listen."
Gomez looked at her, half-questioningly. "Who do you think?"
Morticia nodded. "Ah, so pastels put you up to this nonsense." Watch it, she reminded herself.
"Yes." Gomez nodded. "And do you know what happened when I asked why?"
"No." Morticia awaited a story.
"She explained to me that my jokes were too morbid." Gomez chuckled, and Morticia felt the bats in her heart begin to flutter. "What really pushed her over the edge was when I told her I wasn't joking."
Morticia couldn't help but laugh. "You aren't serious."
"If I was kidding, I wouldn't be here, seventeen years later, picking up anti-depressants." Gomez replied.
Seventeen years. When the letters stopped. "Are they working?"
"What do you take me for?" Gomez shook his head. "If they were working, I wouldn't be taking them."
"Clever." Morticia remarked.
"Thank you, my lady." Gomez replied and tipped an imaginary hat.
Morticia looked in the rearview mirror then, and what she saw in it registered. "Gomez, there's something I think you should know."
"What are they?" Gomez asked, still driving.
"You ran a red light about a minute and a half ago."
Gomez nodded. "I feel like there's more to this."
Morticia sighed. "Yes."
"What is it?"
"The police are chasing us." Morticia told him, nonchalantly.
Gomez looked in the mirror and finally saw what she did. "Well, this just got interesting." He pulled out a cigar from his pocket and began to smoke.
Morticia and Gomez eventually did stop the car, and received a ticket for running the red light, and, they soon realized, speeding.
They then arrived at the drug store for the prescription, where they stood in line, amidst receiving glances ranging from awkward to afraid. But the pair paid no mind to the strange looks.
Gomez walked with Morticia up to the prescription pick-up, and was greeted by a tall, thin, older man, seemingly in his early fifties.
"Hello, Mr. Addams." The man greeted him, like they were old friends.
"Donald, how are you, old man?" Gomez inquired.
"Oh, couldn't be better, Gomez." Donald replied. "Who is this lovely lady?" He looked at Morticia.
"I'm Morticia." Morticia shook his hand. "I'm…" Her eyes went to Gomez as she thought about what to reply with. "family." She decided.
"Family…" Donald thought for a moment. "Oh, Morticia. It's so nice to finally meet-"
Gomez shot Donald a look like a deer in headlights, and Donald quickly rephrased.
"Forgive me, dear lady. I thought you were someone else." He said. "I meant, it is very nice to meet you. For the first time." Donald paused and suspiciously looked at his friend. "Never having heard of you at all."
Gomez's eyes shifted, seemingly nervous. "I'm here for my usual, Donald."
Donald nodded. "Depression…" He muttered as he walked to the back.
"Oh, the poor man." An elderly woman with blonde hair, wearing a bright, floral dress tapped Gomez on the shoulder. "Sir?"
Gomez turned from the conversation he had just started with Morticia and met the eyes of the old woman. "Yes, may I help you?" He asked, politely.
"I couldn't help but overhear. Why do you need depression pills?" The old woman pried.
Gomez sighed and put a hand in his pocket. Whether it was out of innocence or for the sake of a too accurate joke, he replied, "I'm married."
The woman became tight-lipped and said no more after her rude question was answered.
Gomez then continued the conversation with the beauty in front of him, and Donald soon informed tem that the wait for the prescription would be about twenty minutes. So, they now stood in the card section at the Rite Aid, thinking of morbid sayings to replace the altogether too happy or basic phrases with.
"Morticia?" Gomez found her and showed her a birthday card with the picture of a dog blowing out candles. It read, Hey, old friend. You're just a year away from reaching fifty. But… and inside, the card read, if you have to think about that, don't forget to eat lots of cake and smile! Happy Birthday!
"Oh, dear." Morticia contemplated what the new phrase should be. "How about, Hello, old friend. You are another year closer to your impending demise. And…" Morticia opened the card. "It is never too early to start thinking about a carpenter. You're just a year away from turning fifty, and you should be resting comfortably."
Gomez laughed. "I like that. How about an image of a coffin right under the words?"
"Perfect, and we wouldn't even have to change the colour of the writing." Morticia agreed.
"Just one thing, about that last line."
"What?"
Gomez hesitated, not. "Let's try, you want to rest in peace, not pieces."
Morticia smiled. "Yes, I think that suits the card better. Or perhaps, don't worry, darling, I'm not even seconds behind you."
"Mmm… that sounds personal." Gomez remarked.
Morticia smirked. "Mmm… maybe it is."
The general public at Rite Aid had had enough at that point, and soon a short, stocky, African American worker with her hair up, walked over to the macabre pair.
"Hello." Morticia greeted the woman.
The woman rolled her eyes. "Yea, hi. Listen, I don't know what planet you people are on, but everyone in Rite Aid is uncomfortable. And making the people who regularly shop here uncomfortable is not an easy task."
"Why would they be uncomfortable?" Morticia questioned.
"You can't just crack jokes about kickin' the bucket in the holiday card section!" She whisper-yelled.
"Don't worry, Ms. Wanda." Gomez read the woman's name tag. "I can assure you we were not joking about kicking the bucket."
Morticia nodded, holding up a graceful, defensive hand. "Of course not. Staring down the Grimm Reaper, yes. But kicking the bucket, no."
Gomez stifled a laugh.
"You try'na be smart with me, lady?" Wanda asked, annoyed.
"Oh, Morticia's very smart. Listen to this," Gomez held up a card to Wanda. "Hello, old friend. You-"
Wanda took the card from him. "I don't care, and I don't want to have to call security. Now, will you please shut your mouths about what party-goer is gonna die and when?" She walked away then, grumbling to herself as she did.
Gomez leaned in towards Morticia. "We're purchasing this card."
Morticia nodded in approval.
As the cashier scanned the card, she read the words. "Going to a birthday party?"
Gomez shook his head. "No."
They soon got into the car after having cashed out, and the day passed rather quickly. Charles explained to Morticia that he believed Sensus Inversus Gomez was obviously still infatuated with her, and Morticia knew it. Still, nothing but a few sweet memories had come out of the day, and as the sun set, she knew she had now even less time than before to get Gomez to act on his love for her. She couldn't. She could encourage it, but it wouldn't work if she instigated it. So, she had to pray, and she had to wait.
Late that night, Wendy arrived home from dance practice, ecstatic.
Gomez and Ophelia were on the couch, watching When Harry Met Sally -Gomez, doing so under serious duress- when the door opened.
"I got a solo!" Wendy squealed and ran over to the couch. "I beat Genie and I got a solo!"
Gomez leapt off the couch and hugged her. "That's wonderful!"
"Yes." Ophelia stood up and gave her daughter a congratulatory hug. "Let's hope it is."
Wendy pulled away from the hug, and her once happy expression darkened. "Well… there's something about my solo, mother."
Ophelia wore a questioning look on her face. "What is it?"
"A minute." Wendy responded. She really did crave her mother's acceptance and attention. For looking so much like her, one would think she constantly had it. But she was held to an unimaginable standard, and Wendy held not a single candle to Ophelia's dream of her daughter. Not even once, not really.
"You're only up there for a minute?" Ophelia seemed upset.
"Yes." Wendy replied.
"And Rose is up there for…?" Ophelia was more upset with that obviously bias dance teacher and less at her daughter, but Wendy took it quite harshly.
"Three." Wendy refused to meet her mother's eyes.
"Three." Ophelia had to remain calm. Now, she was under fire. If she could help it, she was not going to show Gomez her true fury, as she had shown her children in the past. If she did, it would be curtains for her, and she knew it.
"Yes. But I did try very hard." Wendy took off her light, pink summer jacket. "I even memorized the dance already." Can I see it? If only her mother had ever asked that question.
"That's nice." Ophelia nodded, as if physically convincing herself that she hadn't another thing to hide from Linda and the girls, but trying to hide this would be like trying to hide an elephant, smack in the middle of their living room. "Well, dear, it's awfully late."
Wendy did not show the hurt in her heart, on her face. She merely nodded. "Goodnight, mother."
"Goodnight, Wendy." Ophelia turned to her husband. "Gomez, are you coming?"
"I'll be there shortly." Gomez barely looked at his wife as he said those words.
Ophelia nodded. "Don't be long." She could not be subtly seductive if or when, she tried. Still, she made her ascent up the stairs, leaving Gomez alone with his dejected daughter.
Wendy was about to hang up her coat, but Gomez took it and did it for her.
There was a minute of silence before Gomez opened his mouth. "I'd like to see it." He told her.
"Father, really. It's not a big deal." Wendy responded.
"To you it is." Gomez paused. "There are two people in this world that I can read very well." He said to his daughter. "You, and…" His voice trailed off.
"And her?" Wendy gestured upstairs.
Knowing who she was talking about, and knowing it was not his wife, Gomez nodded once. "Can I see your dance?"
Wendy rolled her eyes. "Yes, father."
With her words, she got into position, and noticed, not, that a third party had come to watch. Poised, she leapt and twirled and danced her heart out for a full minute. She pretended that her body was that of a ballet dancer's, and that she wore one of those beautiful, ballet dancer's outfits. She heard music playing on her mental record player, and saw crowds of people throwing roses at her in her clear yet foggy mind. And when it was all over, she sought approval from her father.
"It was wonderful." Gomez patted her shoulder. "Now get some sleep. You have a rehearsal tomorrow morning."
"Thank you." Wendy then turned to stare at what her father was, and sighed. For just a young girl, her mind was cluttered with worry, confusion and anger. And for just a young girl, she was completely capable of showing hardly any of it on her face. Where the hell did she get that from?
Morticia stood, leaning slightly against the wall, in her nightgown, arms elegantly crossed under her chest. "You're very good." She said to Wendy as she made her ascent up the stairs.
Wendy barely looked at her aunt, and gave a simple nod as somewhat of a thank you. Then, she went upstairs, presumably to her mattress.
"Wendy is quite the talented little girl." Morticia said to Gomez.
Gomez was conflicted. More conflicted tan he had ever been. All he wanted to do was talk to her, but all he could do was watch her. All he needed to do was… well, those thoughts were… was it so wrong to want to, to crave the feel of her- yes, it was. It was wrong. But if indeed it was the bad kind of wrong, why was his heart screaming at him that it wasn't? Why, why was it this complicated? Where as this confliction coming from? When would it end? Did he want it to? Yes, he decided. Remember, Gomez, you have a wife. You love her. "Yes, I'm very proud of her."
Morticia nodded. "You should be." She began to walk up the stairs of the once lovely mansion, and as she did, she ran into the one person who she truly had no desire to see. Her sister.
"Hello, Morticia." Ophelia subtly adjusted her pink feathered slipper.
Morticia turned and watched as Ophelia wrapped her arms around Gomez's neck and kissed his cheek, to spite her younger sister. And she noticed, Gomez's hungry eyes were on Morticia's glorious form, despite Ophelia's physical efforts. Bewitching indeed.
Frustrated, Ophelia humphed. "Gomez, I'm over here."
Morticia smirked, and then called to her sister from the tenth step, gently, "I believe he understands that, dear."
Ophelia tried to lean into her distracted husband, but it took a good deal of effort. "Goodnight, Morticia." She called to her sister.
"And to you as well." Morticia stole a glance at Gomez and continued up the stairs.
While she would not be sleeping in her bed tonight, she would be in her mind. She did not have to be looking at the couple to know, that while her sister's eyes were no longer on her… Gomez's eyes very much were.
