Wendy huffed and sat down on the edge of the bathtub, trembling, her thumb finding it's way to her mouth without her mind knowing what it was up too. She should have stayed at home. In all likely hood she WOULD have stayed at home, had Carline not mentioned in passing, that the organizer of the event was Willy Wonka. It had been decades since she'd seen him face to face, and she had intended to go by her old name, to keep a distance between her new life, and her past outbursts… It was safe enough to be civil, even friendly in her letters, because he didn't know who she was. He never saw her face to face… but in person, Wendy was rarely civil to anyone in possession of a Y chromosome. With her mother's history of serial dating, relying on men to support and feed her and Wendy, she had little choice but to follow in her footsteps or rebel as much as possible. She chose the latter.
It should come as no surprise then, that Wendy was a solitary individual, with little interest in men or dating. All that mattered to her, was that she had a consistent buyer for her home grown acid free lemons and sour apples, and other the other exotic fruits she grew in her orchard. So long as she had a buyer, she had money to pay the mortgage, and utilities, and so long as she had that, she seldom had to leave the fenced in sanctuary that was her orchard, and the small home within it, and so long as she didn't have to leave, she didn't have to expose herself to that despised plague upon the planet. People. The human obsession with other people was baffling to Wendy, as she found them, with the exception of her childhood friends, utterly terrifying.
Perhaps that's why she rather liked the eccentric chocolatier, which whom, with the exception of that one Christmas he had visited the Long Road Home, she had contact only by post. He never wrote of women or friends, of social strategizing or who was dating whom now that shouldn't be and how was he ever going to deal with the friend who thought he'd said something he hadn't. He lacked that human obsession with other humans, which she perceived as a massive flaw, and prattled on only about candies and inventions, and all manner of things which had nothing to do with other people… Or perhaps it was for more selfish reasons she refused to admit even to herself. Perhaps she enjoyed her correspondence with Willy, for the same reason she still had in her possession, the photograph taken of all the children that day with their visitor. While she would never admit it to a soul, 19 year old Willy had made quite an impression on 13 year old Wendy, in that way that one can only to a child of that age. A child's crush, left festering for so many years, that, in order to conceal it even from herself, Wendy would resort to any insult to prevent it's discovery.
At least that's what she told herself. But if that was the case she'd have spat in his face just now. Instead she was locked in a bathroom, a 42 year old woman sucking her thumb and missing the party… missing her chance to catch up with the only people she could ever really be herself around, and in a few hours, she'd slink out the back and return to her orchard, and likely see no one but her numerous cats for the next couple of decades.
This was all Willy's fault. That's right. She wouldn't be stuck in this bathroom if it wasn't for him. She wouldn't be in here missing the party, and the food…
"Oh lor, whashime isssid?" she whispered to herself, words slurred by the digit pressed to her soft pallet. Scowling, she removed her thumb from her mouth, unbuttoned her cardigan, and reached inside to unzip the right hand breast pocket of her jumper, and pull out an apple shaped gold pocket watch, by the loop at the top if it. It had no chain… it had no need of a chain, since the pocket it lived in zipped. "It's two thirty already. Damnit."
She realized then that her trembling had a lot less to do with her emotional state, and a lot more to do with her low blood sugar level. She hadn't had a seizure in decades, thru a combination of having grown more attentive to her condition, and the fact that the issue was much worse when she was a growing child. Wendy felt it unfair that it should have plagued her so and still left her so short that she had to strain to reach a hat rack. Still, at 4 foot 10, she supposed it could have been worse. She could have been much shorter. Now however that was not her primary concern. Her primary concern was stopping the trembling.
She unzipped her left hand breast pocket, reaching inside… and finding nothing. Mentally she berated herself for leaving her candies in her coat. She was going to have to go downstairs again. With all those people… and Willy… no. Maybe she could get one of the kids to get something for her, so she could stay inside. Or get a message to Annabelle, or Mary. Young as she was compared to most of the guests here, she didn't have many close friends. Acquaintances were plentiful, but really only Annabelle and Carline of the older girls had liked her much. Annabelle was probably just making up for her brother. She was always doing that… and Carline, Carline was overnice to everyone.
"Wendy?" came a knock at the door, interrupting her musings, "It's Annabelle. Can I come in?"
"Yeah… sure," Wendy sighed, standing to open the door, and falling down as soon as she did.
"Wendy?" Annabelle exclaimed from the other side of the door, hearing the thud.
"I'm ok!" she replied, standing again, and unlocking the door. "Just… stood up to fast is all." Her head was still spinning some and she steadied herself against the door. It was a familiar feeling, one she had only come to have once she had come to the Long Road Home. There was little chance of her standing up too fast when she was hungry with her mother, as she spent most of that time locked in the trunk of the car, a space in which there wasn't space for her to sit up straight, never mind stand.
"When's the last time you had something to eat?" Annabelle asked, recognizing the dizzy spell as a sign of impending hypoglycemia.
"Breakfast… 9ish."
"Here…" Annabelle dug thru her pocket, and came up with a sour apple sucker, offering it to Wendy, "have this." She had confiscated the sucker from her son earlier that day, when he tried to have it for desert after breakfast. She'd buy him a new one after the reunion. She was by no means a candy hating mother, but one who believed that candy was for eating only after lunch.
"Thanks," she replied, putting down the toilet seat, and sitting down on it. "I made an ass out of myself down there, didn't I?"
Annabelle was puzzled of course, but then Annabelle did not know that Wendy had been exchanging letters with Willy for the past decade or so. She did however, remember Wendy's crush on him, years ago. Though the girl had never admitted it, it wasn't hard for someone like Annabelle to see. The way she treasured that photograph of the group of them with Willy that Christmas, the way she traded in the grape hard candies she had always had in her mouth in place of her thumb, for all manner of Wonka candies, and even the way she repeatedly referred to him as a lunatic, and a 'bloody madman,' were all covert indications of her affections.
"No… I don't think he's all that offended you don't like people calling you by his name. People used to call him Wendy, and he didn't like that."
"Thas nod awl there ishh do id," Wendy replied, not bothering to remove the sucker from her mouth. "Nawee nyows Wenny Abblegade an Wenny Migindosh ahh deh sssame pehson." When her explanation garnered only further confusion from Annabelle, she pulled the sucker from her mouth, using it to illustrate her point, "Wonka's sour apple suckers don't irritate the insides of your mouth like other sour apple candy, do you know why?"
"No… no one does."
"I do. Read the label," she said handing back the wrapper to the pop. "What's missing that's usually in sour candies?"
"Acid…" Annabell replied, reading thru the ingredients on the label, "There's usually acid in sour candies, citric acid."
"And malic… so what no one knows is not, why it doesn't irritate your mouth if it's sour, but how it's sour if it doesn't irritate your mouth."
"Do you know?" Annabelle asked. The reversal of the question was a clever trick, but she knew better than to think that Annabelle would set that up simply to show of her overblown intellect (and the woman did have an overblown intellect.) Wendy wasn't the vain sort of person who would engage in a discussion of trivia simply to make it known that she knew more than you did. Whatever the poupose of this line of conversation, it had to be the set up for a bigger payoff than that.
"I can't tell you. It'd be in breach of my contract."
"You… you have a contract with Willy Wonka?"
"McIntosh Orchards has a contract with, with Wonka Candies."
"And you never told him, you were you," Annabelle concluded, out loud. "Except you just did downstairs… Oh I could just kill Justin."
"Ishz nawd hish fawlt," Wendy replied. "Ah med an ash oud awf myzelve awl ahn my owm." She sighed and sucked on the candy again, twisting it in her mouth to aide in the quick dissolution of the hard substance. While she would usually prefer to savor her candy over a period of time, she was too sugar deprived to really be concerned with how it tasted. As least it tasted better than the god awful grape candies her mother used to give her as a kid when she'd start twitching. Those hadn't tasted like much of anything at all.
"Come on back down Wendy, just stick close to me, ok?"
"Kay," Wendy replied reluctantly. She would have to leave sometime anyway. The sucker would only hold her over for so long, and at least this way she was with someone else. She made her way down the stairs, a step behind Annabelle. Most of the partygoers had assumed she had run off to escape Justin, and so they paid her no heed when she returned. That had been how things were when they were all kids, so no one felt there was a reason why should it be any different now.
"And so that's how I wound up here with Mary," Wendy and Annabelle heard Carline explaining.
They looked over to see a very glazed over looking Willy Wonka, barely nodding at the woman's explanation, apparently scanning the crowd of kids to see where Charlie had gone to. Carline was sidled up right next to him, inside what one would generally consider to be his personal space, which explained why he was looking for an out.
"Tangy Tarts" Wendy muttered, pulling the sucker from her mouth and stealing herself to go over there.
"What?"
"Look… I still think he's a nutcase… but, he did help me out… and you know how I hate to owe anyone," she turned on her heel, and marched right over there… to apologize for that Christmas, and, in the process hopefully, distract Carline from her misguided intentions. Wendy liked Carline… really she did, but the woman was sick, sick just like her mother had been. Reaching the two… she stood square in front of the chocolatier, but a good 2 feet away. It wasn't a calculated move on her part… she didn't like to get to close to guys, and effeminate hairdo not withstanding, he was in fact a man. "I'm sorry I never told you who I was," she said, her eyes searching for his, "I was quite disrespectful that day. I-"
"Yes you were!" Willy interrupted, ignoring the first half of the apology. He still wasn't ready to acknowledge that Wendy the hypoglycemic redhead and Wendy the fruit supplier were the same person.
"-apologize," Wendy finished, without flinching.
"Oh! Well I suppose that makes everything better!" Willy replied in the same round the bend, meta-sarcastic tone he'd used earlier with Justin, "As long as you're sorry."
"Take it or leave it," Wendy replied stoically, "But I do mean what I said." Though she would not admit to herself why, she knew she was on the brink of tears, but she did not allow it to show on her face.
"Annabelle have you seen Charlie?" Willy completely ignored Wendy's last statement, "I think it's time we were leaving."
"Don't bother," Wendy replied, heading for the coat rack, "I know where I'm not welcome." Her egress was both a statement, and an escape. She has to leave before she broke down in front of all these people. Wendy may have been a social wreck, but she would not allow herself to be a wreck in a social setting.
"Wendy, you haven't had lunch!" Annabelle followed her.
"I'll get something from a street vendor. It's been years since I had a good hot-dog," she replied, hurriedly pulling her coat on. "It was nice seeing you again Annabelle." Hat on, and coat buttined, Wendy escaped the reunion back into the October snow. "Ah nyever shada gume heah," she said to herself, "Styubid. Styubid." Wendy held the sucker in her mouth as he pulled on her scarf and mittens… stomping off into the snow, realizing of course, that only an insane hot dog vendor would be out in this weather. She fruistratedly kicked the pavement beneath her feet, balling her fists. Feeling the sudden warmth of tears streaking down her face, Wendy ducked into an alleyway, lest Annabelle follow her. She didn't want to be found.
"I still think I aught to leave," Willy said as Annabelle came back to where he stood, "Carline's starting to freak me out."
"What happened to you Willy?" Annabelle scowled, "Why the hell don't you go after her?"
"Then you haven't seen him?"
"You used to care about people other than yourself But now, you're a complete narcissist! Selfish BRAT."
Willy's eyes went wide at the last statement. "I'm not a brat Annabelle: She is. She's nothing but a selfish little chocolate hating brat." He knew he wasn't a brat… but he wasn't so sure about Wendy anymore. Saying it again helped to solidify his thoughts. Willy Wonka was not a liar, so if he said it, then it had to be true. Wendy Applegate was a Chocolate hating brat. She was.
"She's lactose intolerant Willy… how the hell can she hate something she can't even try without giving herself stomach pains?" Annabelle replied, exasperatedly. She knew he knew that. She had heard Wendy scream it at him, from the bottom of the stairs. Sixteen when Willy had returned that Christmas, Annabelle had been at the back of the group, smiling as the younger children clambered for his candy as she'd once clambered for his deserts, so it hadn't been much of a challenge at all for her to slip away and listen at the bottom of the stairs. She'd gone up as soon as Willy had come down, to find Wendy crying and sucking her thumb, not caring that she was putting her teeth back out of whack in the process.
"There you are Charlie! Get you're coat… we're going."
"Okay," the boy skittered off to the coat rack. They'd been there nearly two hours by this point, which was about as long as he'd expected them to stay. There were far to many people here to expect Willy to stay much longer than that regardless of the things going on.
"Willy," Annabelle sighed, as he retrieved his hat, and whisked Charlie out the door. The two made a bee-line for the glass elevator, Willy pressing the external button to open the doors, and usher Charlie inside. But Charlie did not get in the elevator. He paused, straining his ears for a sound of tiny hiccups, further into the alley.
"Do you hear that Mr. Wonka?"
"No," he replied, without even listening, "Get in Charlie, we're going back to the factory."
"Someone's crying," Charlie replied, stepping around the elevator to walk further down the alley, toward the sound, which suddenly stopped.
If Wendy had turned the corner directly when she'd come to the alley, she'd have run right into the elevator, parked there… but because she'd gone further, before she realized there would be no hot dog vendors out in that weather, she had missed it. If she had known it was there she'd have found a different alleyway to cry in. She didn't like people to see her cry. Upon hearing Charlie's assessment of what she'd been doing, she squatted down, wrapped her arms around her knees, bit her lip and held her breath, hoping that if she was small enough, and quiet enough, he'd believe that the sound had been in his head, and would just get in that elevator and leave.
"It's Wendy," Charlie said, standing in front of her. He wasn't sure what else to say about the situation. From Willy's attitude toward the woman inside, he figured he may as well have said 'It's Mrs. Gloop.'
"Well then it's none of our concern Charlie. Lets go."
"Go on," Wendy said, weakly, lifting her head from her knees, "I'll be fine."
Charlie couldn't see her face through the layers of gauzy fabrics draped around her hat, but he didn't need to, to know she wasn't going to be fine. She'd just go on crying after they'd left. Sweet child that he was, he didn't want to leave her there like that, even if she was as Willy declared, a brat, though he wasn't positive about that precisely. He didn't know her well enough to make that assessment, but, given Willy's tendency toward jugementalisim, he wasn't going to take the man at his word.
"You heard her… come on Charlie," Willy stepped into the elevator, "Hurry up or I'm leaving without you!"
Charlie stood for a second, staring down at the woman squatting in the snow, "I'm sorry," he said to her, "I have to go." He wouldn't put it past Willy to leave without him, and he didn't know how to get back to the factory from there. The long and short of it, was that Wendy was an adult, and Charlie was a child… he had to trust that she would be able to take care of herself.
Wendy didn't move from where she was until the elevator had taken off. She closed her eyes focusing on the candy in her mouth, lavishing over it with her tongue. The truth was, she didn't really care what was in her mouth, be it her thumb or a hard candy… but she felt much safer and much better when something was there. Regaining her composure, Wendy snaked a hand up under the draperies of her hat, and wiped her eyes dry, before stepping out of the alleyway into the street… going in the opposite direction she had been before. The elevator had gone the direction she was going before… and she had no intention of going that way. She just needed to hail a cab… and she'd be on her way back to the safety and sanctity of her orchard.
Meantime, above the city, Charlie scowled at Willy, who was making a concerted effort to avoid eye contact with the boy. He felt a little bad leaving Wendy in the alleyway like that. She HAD been apologizing, and what if Wendy Applegate and Wendy McIntosh were the same people? Then he'd lost one of his only friends just now… and a fruit supplier. He wasn't sure which he cared about more… but he wanted to say it wasthe fruit.
Author's Note: In case anyone's wondering, Wendy is not meant to be diabetic. She's prone to fasting hypoglycemia due to a growth hormone deficiency, which is also why she's so short... oh... and still no beta.