Hello guys! As promised, here is Chapter 11! This was supposed to be titled "Meeting Mrs. Addams" but as I was writing this chapter, I realized that if I expanded the first meeting of Morticia and Mrs. Addams, the chapter would be super long. To be begin with, the chapter is already long so I shortened the first meeting, but it is still meaty. Enjoy!
Quite suddenly, Morticia pulled away from their kiss. She gently pushed Gomez away and took a step back from him. She hugged herself to prevent any contact between the two of them.
"Cara mia?" Gomez asked confused, closing the gap between them, but she took several steps back, intent on keeping her distance. "What have I done?"
She mumbled something so softly that he did not hear her. "I didn't catch that, Morticia," he said, still unsure why Morticia, who seemed delighted to be his lover just a few moments ago, was now shying away from him like he carried some contagious disease.
"You gave Natalie roses," she whispered, quite more audibly this time, but still he did not understand what she said. Looking down to her feet, she took another nervous step back and almost fell from the balcony, had Gomez not rushed to her aid.
"You cannot die yet," he softly said, holding her tight and close to his muscular arms.
"Please let go," Morticia asked, ignoring the fluttering of her heart as she felt his strong arms around her. She also ignored her desire to collapse in his arms and ventured to the other side of the balcony. "And please do not come near me."
"Is there something wrong?" he asked, still trying to fathom why she was suddenly feeling distant. His skin was begging to feel her, but he respected her request and stayed on his side of the balcony. "Please tell me what's wrong, my love."
"You gave Natalie roses," she repeated, her voice still soft but a bit louder. She looked down on her knitted hands, trying to hide her jealousy.
"I didn't," Gomez simply replied, realizing where Morticia was coming from. He knew how it felt to be jealous, as he was green-eyed when he saw her affection towards her sister's beau.
"But she showed the roses to me, Gomez," she whispered. "They were red."
"Were they long stemmed?" he asked, taking a single discreet step forward.
"I do not know… maybe not?" she answered, still not looking at him.
"Where the roses thorny?" he asked stepping forward still.
"I do not know, I have not seen them up close."
"Were they in full bloom?"
"I do not know… I just saw that they were red." Her head shot up and she was surprised to see him standing just a foot away from her. She sighed. "What does it matter, anyway? She said you gave her roses."
"It hurts me that you believe in her and not in me," he replied. He reached out a hand, which Morticia dodged, thinking that he was reaching out for her, and broke a branch from the willow tree behind her. He perched on the balcony railing, pulled up one of his pants leg, and positioned the branch on his skin.
Morticia's eyes grew in surprise. She raised a hand to stop him. "Gomez! What are you –?" But it was too late. Gomez had already sunk the jagged point of the branch on his skin and carved something on his left leg. Blood rose quickly and flowed down his leg as he hissed in pain.
Gasping, she ran inside her room and returned holding a cloth and a small bottle of gin. "I do not understand what you are trying to do, Gomez," she scolded kneeling on the floor in front of him. "Hold the hem of your pants."
Looking quite amused, he did what was told as she, despite her sudden anger marred with jealousy, gently dabbed his wound with the cloth. She pressed down on the wound. He hissed again in pain.
"Don't you dare do that, you cut yourself on purpose," she said, her voice biting with angst that made him recoil. She lifted her hand, and for a second, just before blood flowed out again, she saw a crude MF violently and deeply carved on his leg. She looked up at him, eyes abandoning their murderous look, completely ignoring the flowing blood soaking the hem of her dress. "What…?"
"You won't believe me when I said I did not give Natalie flowers," he said shrugging nonchalantly, as if what he did was perfectly normal.
"But…" she tried to reason out. However, his bravery or irrationality bordering to stupidity, left her speechless. It was not until her hand accidentally touched his leg when she realized that his blood was flowing like a river. She immediately wiped the blood off and poured gin on the dry part of the cloth. As gently as she could, she pressed the gin-soaked cloth over his deep cut.
He hissed loudly. "Maybe it was not a good idea," he whispered through gritted teeth.
"Maybe it wasn't," she agreed softly, pressing harder on the wound. "But I think what you did was –"
"Sweet?" he asked, smiling at her.
She scowled. "–quite stupid," she finished. A ghost of a smile was visible despite her frown. She stared hard on him. "And you cannot actually just expect me to let you bleed. Here, hold this." She let go of the sticky cloth and let him pressed it down on his wound. She stood up and returned to her room to get another cloth.
"But I thought you like pain," he called out.
"I do," she agreed as she went back to him. Besides the extra cloth, she was folding some medical adhesive and a roll of gauze. She poured generous amount of gin on the cloth and replaced the one already soaked with blood with it. "But I would rather inflict it on a person rather than see the person cut himself up. We have to keep your leg elevated, if not you will just continue bleeding. If you could just stand up using your other leg." She stood by his side to assist him.
Together, they hobbled onto the floor by her balcony window and slid down to sit on the floor. She left him for a while and returned with pillows for him to prop his leg up.
"Thank you, Dr. Frump," he chided as he settled comfortably. Morticia was about to go back to her room to return her supplies when Gomez held her hand to stop her. "Stay."
She stared blankly at him, confused with his sudden dependence on her. She opened her mouth to say something but he interrupted her, "Please?"
She frowned slightly, though more amused than irritated. "You are becoming quite dependent… or as people nowadays say, clingy. I did not know that a carve on the leg could cause such distress, Gomez."
Gomez smiled, caressing her hand in his. "I only want to be with you."
"I am with you, Gomez," she countered softly. "I will just be returning my supplies inside my room. You are in my balcony, for goodness's sake, how near should we be with each other?"
"Very near," he whispered. He tugged her hand, forcing her to crouch down on the floor beside him. "Besides," he interrupted when he saw her opening her mouth to contradict. "You might need to clean my wound again. Too much effort does not sit well on you."
Morticia scoffed gracefully, as she settled on the floor, trying to be as comfortable as she could on the hard wood. "Are you actually expecting me to be your slave, Gomez?"
"I would not call cleaning my wound 'enslavement,' my love," he replied, grinning rather foolishly at her. She tried frowning again at him but could not stop the hesitant smile spreading on her lips. Instead, she merely raised an amused eyebrow at him. He grinned, if it was even possible, even wider.
Gomez studied his elevated leg. The blood was still rising and was already tinting the wound's dressing. Oddly enough, the Morticia's initials, 'M.F.', were slowly forming on the dressing as the blood continued to rise.
"Something is missing," he said, still scrutinizing his leg.
"Goodness, Gomez!" she softly interjected. She stared at him with wide eyes, shocked. "Do not tell me you are intending to wound yourself again."
"Perhaps not at the moment," he replied, somehow oblivious of her disbelief.
"You are intending to carve something on your leg, then?" she asked.
"I should have added an 'A' here," he said, absently ignoring her question.
She shifted closer to him and looked at his leg. "I would rather not have you inflict further paint onto yourself, Gomez," she said, her voice sounding stern. "But I would have to agree that my middle name Anaesthesia is missing."
"Not Anaesthesia," he shortly replied. "Addams."
Morticia opened her mouth to respond, but abruptly stopped as she understood what he meant. She stared at him blankly, unable to completely process what he said and unsure how to properly react. Realizing that her mouth was hanging open, she closed it and swallowed hard.
"Do not be coy, Gomez, it does not suit you," she finally said, trying to look nonchalant, but failing.
"But I am serious!" he insisted. He stared deep into her eyes and added, "Addams suit you more than Frump."
"Gomez!" she almost whine. She gently slapped her shoulder. "I told you, do not be coy because it does not suit you!" She stood up, carrying her medical supplies, to return to her room. But before she could take a single step, Gomez caught a glimpse of the tiniest blush on her cheek. Well, at least, her cheek looked less pale.
"Morticia, don't leave?" Gomez almost pleaded. She looked back down at him and saw that he was indeed serious about his request of her not leaving. As much as she wanted to sit beside him right that very moment, she knew that she must act as if she felt otherwise. She must not be easy to get; otherwise, Gomez would be in the upper hand of their relationship. That was not what she had in mind.
Fighting the urge to cuddle beside him, she continued walking into her room, only leaving him with a playful wink. He laughed as she disappeared in her room. He settled on his rather uncomfortable position on the floor and waited for her to return, which she did only a few moments later.
Despite his bleeding wound, he gallantly held out a hand to assist her crouch down beside him. She took his proffered hand and carefully tucked her legs underneath her, inching closer to him.
"Morticia?" Gomez whispered.
"Hmm?" she replied, resting her head on his shoulder.
"What are your plans?" he asked, titling his head to rest on top of hers.
"Plans for what?"
"For your future. After finishing college."
She frowned slightly and remained silent. She had not given her future a thought. "I… I do not know," she admitted in a quiet voice.
He shifted from his seat to face her. He looked rather shocked at her response. "You do not have plans? But why?"
She studied his face, trying to understand his sudden curiosity about the future and shrugged. "I never plan. Well, I never thought of planning," she said. Then she raised her eyes to meet his. "Do you?"
"Before I didn't, but now I do," he replied. His eyes were soft as he looked very endearingly at her. "How come you do not know how you want to be?"
"My mother was very positive that I will not go anywhere," she whispered, looking down at her hands on her lap. "She repeatedly made me feel that if I will not lose my interest in witchcraft and the dark arts, I will never become anyone worthy."
"I'm sorry, Morticia…" he said. He moved closer to her and locked her in a loving embrace. She buried her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. "But things are different now, aren't they?"
"Yes, now there is someone who will always be there for me," she replied, smiling up at him. "Thank you."
He kissed the top of her head in reply.
"But I would still want to go to Transylvania,"
"When?"
"After graduation…"
"Oh…" was his only response. He did not let go of her, but he seemed aloof. She searched his face for some reaction, but he remained quite blank.
"Gomez?" She searched his face for some reaction, but he remained quite blank.
"Yes?" he asked, however, he stared away from her, even beyond the willow tree in front of the balcony.
"Are you mad?"
"No, not mad."
"What then?"
"Sad…"
"Sad?" she repeated, shocked. Of all the things he would respond, sadness was not one of the things she expected to hear from him. She straightened up, placed both of her hands on his either cheek, and forced him to look at her. "Please look at me, Gomez."
Reluctantly, he did. In his eyes, Morticia saw that he was indeed morose. "But why are you sad, Gomez? I do not understand."
He shrugged. He tried to appear nonchalant but failed miserably. "I was just not expecting you to go so soon."
She smiled slightly. "But, darling, I would rather not call three and half years from now, 'soon'."
"That is soon," he insisted stubbornly.
Her smile grew. "Your stubbornness makes you more charming, darling. Three and half years is not soon. I believe you are overthinking. We are in a relationship for barely an hour, yet you are already thinking about me leaving. Besides, you will be the one to leave first."
He frowned, unable to comprehend what she was implying.
"You are graduating next year," she said by way of explanation. "I highly doubt that you will remain in the campus even after you graduated."
Gomez remained silent.
"Alright, then, if you choose to be like that," she said teasingly. Raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him, she shifted away from him and pulled her knees close to her chest. She propped her chin on her knees and stared ahead, ignoring him, as he was to her. A strong night breeze blew and she slightly shivered, yet she chose to still ignore him.
He, however, noted her chill. Despite his stubbornness on the matter to happen in three and half years, he knew she had proven her point better than him. He glanced at her and saw that she was only wearing a thin, black, floor length lace robe, over her black, also floor length silk nightgown. It was not until then, that Gomez noticed that Morticia was barefoot.
"You look cold," he softly said, then shook his head upon realizing the stupidity of his statement. "That is not the most brilliant thing to say."
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Oh, so you are speaking to me again?" Another cold breeze blew in making her shiver visibly.
Instead of replying, he removed his suit jacket and laid it on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, my love," he finally said, looking very much sheepish.
She chuckled at the sight of him. "This is very gentlemanly of you," she said tugging his coat on her shoulders. "But you would be cold without it."
"I will be fine," he insisted. A stronger wind came, it was more than a breeze, and he shuddered.
"Will you be really?" she asked, laughing at him. She removed his coat and returned it to him.
"Let's share," he suggested. They both looked at the coat and realized that they could not share it at all. She laughed again.
"I will get a blanket," she said. She moved to stand but he stopped her by pulling her hand. She looked at him lovingly. "Darling, I will be back."
"I'd rather be cold than be without you for a second," he said.
She smiled. "I have seen that in a movie. Apparently, the male protagonist died in hypothermia."
"You watched Titanic?" he asked incredulously. His eyes were wide in surprise; he never thought she would watch that film. It was too corny!
"It was a school requirement," she said, defending herself. "And I would assume you also watched the film, given that a simple statement made you jump into the conclusion that the film I was talking about was Titanic."
He laughed richly. "You got me there, my love. It was also, a school requirement." He changed tack when he observed that she was intent on going back inside her room. "Honestly, Morticia, do not go away."
"But my room is just a few steps away, Gomez," she insisted.
"Let me die in hypothermia then, because I won't let go,"
She sighed, defeated by his hard headedness. "Alright, alright," she said. She picked up the jacket on the floor and wrapped it on his shoulders. He opened his mouth to contradict but she gave him a stern look that made him close his mouth and swallow hard. "Good," she commented. Then, she adjusted the pillows underneath his wounded leg and settled in between his thighs, resting her back on his chest. "Better?"
"Better," he agreed, handing her the sleeves of her jacket to put her cold hands into, before wrapping her in his arms. "But I do not get to see your face."
"Of course, you could," she disagreed. She swiveled her head to peek at him. "See?"
"Alright then," he fully agreed with a big smile.
"You seem to like Titanic, Gomez," she chided. "You just mentioned its most famous line."
"Which one, 'Alright then?'"
"I told you, Gomez, coy does not suit you,"
"I never liked that movie. It's just that by some hideous reason, Rose's ever repeating line was stuck to me like some bacterial glue." He grunted in disgust just to prove his point.
"I won't let go," Morticia mimicked. Her voice was soft and weak, just like how the actress delivered the line after being almost frozen in the sea. "Jack, I won't let go. I promise, I won't let go."
"Oh, Morticia, please stop!" Gomez begged. He placed his head on her shoulder, trying to erase the memory of the love of his life, imitating the worst movie he ever saw. She laughed heartily at his reaction.
"Oh, I am sorry, Gomez, darling," she said. She touched one side of his head and kissed the other. "I lost grip on myself, pardonne-moi."
Something inside Gomez stopped. Or did it quicken? He was not certain. All he knew was that the language she just spoke made him mad. He stalled.
"Gomez? Is there something wrong?" she asked, feeling his sudden stillness.
"Yes…" he breathed. He slowly raised his head from her shoulder.
"Are you sure?" she asked. She looked at him and saw that his eyes were wide, of what, she did not know. She placed a hand on his forehead to see if he had fever. "Are you sick? You do not feel warm."
"I am fine…" he replied, confused as well. Taking several deep breaths, he rested his head on the wall behind him. She did the same on his chest.
They were quiet for some time, not uttering a single word, just feeling the intimacy that they have. Well, for Gomez, he was also trying to determine what just happened.
"What about you, Gomez?" Morticia asked, breaking the calming silence.
"What about me?" he replied, unaware whether she was previously telling a story and was now asking for his opinion.
"What are your plans?" she asked. "You asked me mine, now I would like to know yours. You said that you previously did not have a plan, but now you do. What happened?"
"You," he simply said.
She turned to him. "Me?"
"Yes, you," he replied. "I met you."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are being coy again…"
"No, my love. I am being truthful,"
"Are you saying I changed your life?"
"I am saying that you lit up my way, making me realize that I was in on the wrong path. Now, I am taking the right road." He took her hand and kissed it. "And I want to continue walking down that road with you."
"Gomez…" she softly said. Not knowing how to respond, she just kissed him softly on the lips. So softly that she did not allow him to deepen it.
He grunted jokingly.
"I am not yet done," she said, smiling serenely at him. "I want to know more about you."
"Oh, but what is there to know?"
"Oh, drop that front when you are with me, darling. I know that you are not the man you think you are. I do not buy your façade."
She absently uttered another French word, but to him, it struck him hard and deep like a freshly sharpened machete. He stopped breathing and stalled like before. This did not go unnoticed.
"Is there something wrong, darling?" she asked, alarmed by his peculiar behavior. He did not speak, but he nodded. "But why were you halting? This is the second time. Are your wounds infected already?"
She shifted and reached for his leg. He stopped her. "No, cara mia, my wounds are fine. I am fine. Please do not worry." She looked at him, her face etched with concern. "I am fine, my love," he assured her.
"Alright…" she conceded. She settled back onto his chest. "But you would have to tell me if you are not feeling fine? Please?"
"I will, cara mia," he assured. He planted a chaste kiss on her head.
"What were we talking about?" Morticia wondered aloud. "Oh, you. We were talking about you. Please tell me more about yourself, Gomez."
"What about me? I am not interesting," Gomez replied, his voice bored.
"Of course, you are. How do you think I would have liked you if you were not," she insisted. "Surely before everything happened between you and your brother, you were happy siblings."
"We were," he agreed. He smiled as he reminisced about his and Fester's previous escapades. "We used to scare children. We do not have neighbors, so we would go to the nearest exclusive subdivision in the middle of the night and enter two bed rooms per night, scaring children in their beds.
"Other times, we would go to the river where people will be having a river side picnic or fishing. Of course we did neither of those boring things, but we would wear our shark's fin contraption and swim in the river, scaring the wits out of those fishing in their boats." He laughed merrily. "Oh, the memories of their screams."
She smiled. Although she could not see his face, she was sure that he was indeed very happy. "You most certainly enjoyed your brother's company, didn't you? Somehow, though completely unnecessary and pointless, I envy the joy he brought to your life."
"Yes, I miss him. I wish to tell him that I have met the most wonderful woman to ever exist," he said as he embraced her tighter. "Do not envy him, my love. The joy I feel when I am with you is very different from the one when I was with him. I cannot fully explain it, but all I know is that I could not live without you."
"You admitted before that you hardly lived after your brother left,"
"Yes. But it was more because of the guilt."
"And I?"
"You, on the other hand, are my lifeline."
Morticia twisted to look at him straight in the eyes, analyzing his response. Gomez stared right back, not batting an eyelid. What he said was the truest thing he had ever felt in his entire life. Without saying a word, she returned to her previous position with her back on his chest.
"What do you like doing?" she asked.
"No reaction?" he queried instead of answering her question.
"Nope," she replied shortly, shaking her head rather charmingly. Inside, she was deeply flattered. Not only because for the first time ever, she was vital to someone's existence, but also because she felt his sincerity. A lone emotion for him was further developing as he continued expressing his feelings for her.
He frowned, unable to identify the emotion underneath her short response. He could not see her face either. However, she did not react negatively, and so he took that as a good response. He decided to answer her question, though retaining his coyly manner. "Anything. As long as I am with you."
She rolled her eyes and grunted playfully. "Of course I know that already," she said, gaining some confidence after he professed how he truly felt. He smiled at this; finally, she was accepting the fact that he loves her no matter what. "But what I meant was before I came along. Surely I have not yet existed in your mind before we actually met."
He laughed. "Sadly, I haven't. Had I dreamt about you, I would have searched far and wide."
"That is not an easy task," she said, laughing with him. "You would have been searching for two people, me and Fester."
"Ah, well I think you would be easier to find than him," he replied. "What do I like doing besides being with you? Hmmm, playing with my trains."
"Trains?" she asked, intrigued. She shifted again to face him, her eyes eager to hear his explanation. He widened the gap of his legs so that she could sit perpendicular to him, with her back on his uninjured leg.
"Yes," he replied, pulling her even closer. "I have miniature steam engines at home. I have a room that only houses the track and my trains. Though, none of the trains last longer than a day. I like blowing them up, you see."
"How?"
"I planted remote controlled dynamite caps on some parts of the track. When I feel like it, I would operate a single train and direct it to the minefield. But most of the time, I would operate two trains, going on different directions. Then, I would time it and make them crash head on. There were times that I would let them crash on a minefield."
"That sounds fun," she commented with a smile. Her eyes gleamed with excitement.
"It's sublime!" he exclaimed. "I would like to play with my trains with you."
Her eyes lit up even more. "Really?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied, returning her excitement. "You could come with me over the summer and stay at our house. We could play with my trains whole day long! We have graveyard surrounding our house, and we have dungeons, and we could explore the nearby cave!"
"Oh, that would be marvelous, darling!" she replied, beginning to be more excited by the second. Then she frowned, completely losing her enthusiasm. "Would you not be searching for your brother over the summer?"
"Oh, yeah, we will be," he answered, also dropping his excitement. Then his face lit up as rapid as he lost it. "But you can search with me. We will be travelling all over the country, even overseas."
"I would love that," she said, regaining her excitement.
He grinned widely. "I wish summer would come soon enough!"
"I as well," she replied. She laid her head on his shoulder.
"What about you?" he asked as he stroked her hair. "What do you like doing?"
"Besides being with you?" she teasingly asked. He nodded with a smile. "Well, I have an African strangler named Cleopatra, who is in my room; and two dolls named Anne Boleyn and Marie Antoinette. I chopped their head off." She added a saw-on-wood sound and gestured a finger cutting off the head from the neck to prove her point.
Though she did not really spoke French, the way she mentioned the names of her dolls bubbled his blood, though not as strongly as when she previously spoke French words. He gulped hard, wondering what was with French.
"French, huh?" Gomez asked nonchalantly, though he felt none of it.
"Yes," Morticia answered with a smile, unaware of his discomfort. "Old France have always fascinated me, their Tudor fashion, their monarchs who are very sadist, and of course, the French Revolution.
"New France still fascinates me, more because of the romance its streets emanate. And the Eiffel Tower looks blissful."
He smiled at here serene face. Clearly, more than Transylvania, France appealed to Morticia's emotions. "Have you been to Paris?"
"No," she shook her head sadly. "I have never left the mainland America. But have you?"
"Very briefly, two years back when I was looking for Fester," he replied. He then touched her face and tried to soothe the sadness there. "I suppose it was magical, but I was not there for a holiday, which was probably why I was not able to appreciate its beauty. But I would like to bring you there."
"That is very sweet of you, Gomez dear," she said, smiling at him. She removed his hand from her chin and again laid her head on his shoulder. Gently, she wrapped her arms around his torso. Then she murmured, "Thank you."
He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in her scent, which was a faint mixture of a high-end perfume and vanilla. As he took another breath of her hair, he realized that what mostly intoxicated his senses was Morticia herself. She has this scent that Gomez knew was only hers. He took yet another whiff and she raised her head.
"What are you doing?" she softly asked, looking quite puzzled.
"Smelling you," he replied. His eyes were closed, as if he was truly concentrating on her scent. "I love how you smell."
She chuckled and buried her nose on his chest. She took a whiff. "You smell good, too," she said. "You smell like tobacco and faint Hermes perfume… I cannot place this scent… perhaps that scent is you."
"And you smell like you, as well," he replied.
They did not speak for a while. They just sat there on the balcony at the dead of the night when everyone was supposedly asleep, holding each other like they could not get enough. Every now and then, one of them would let out a satisfied sigh and look endearingly to the other. Even if they were not in Paris, in each other's arms, the moment was just perfect.
After what seemed like hours, Morticia spoke up. She did not raise her head to look at him. Her voice was very soft, "Gomez, I have a question…"
"You seem very hesitant to ask that question, my love," he commented. "But whatever that is, ask away."
"How do I know that I am not just like the Amore twins?" she meekly asked. She kept her eyes down, avoiding any possible eye contact with him for she knew he was looking at her as if he was just slapped hard on the face.
"Morticia how could you even –" he began but she interrupted him for his voice was angry, if not betrayed.
"Please do not be angry, Gomez," she said, still looking at anywhere but him. "That was just an honest question. I just…" her explanation faded with her voice.
He almost sighed exasperatedly when he realized that she had a point. He had indeed repeatedly said that she was a lifeline, a torch to lead the way, that he was in love with her, but how was he sure? He did not doubt her feelings for him, but he realized that buried at the back of his mind, the question of reassurance was nagging him as much as it was to her.
He did not respond immediately. Silence enveloped them.
"To be frank, I have no idea," he finally said, breaking the silence. He took her hand and caressed it. "All I know is that this is telling me that you are not like the Amore twins."
At last, Morticia raised her head and looked to where Gomez was pointing – his heart. He then took her hand and placed it on top of his left chest, where his heart was. "Do you feel that? It's beating your name."
She smiled, apparently convinced.
"But how am I sure that you did not slip me a love potion?" he asked, returning the favor of her question. "You are a witch after all."
Her smile grew. "Touché, Gomez."
He gripped her hand tightly as she finished speaking that single French word. His eyes dilated, and his breathing somehow faltered. He gulped.
"Gomez, what is it?" she questioned with a visible edge in her voice. "You have been stalling more than a broken car for the past two hours or so. I demand you to tell me what it is!"
He closed his eyes and attempted to calm himself down. "I do not know…" he said. His voice was not weak, but his insides were squirming. "You spoke French."
She looked at him blankly. "Did I? I cannot recall."
"Thrice already."
She still looked at him blankly, unable to comprehend his point. "Well, I have been doing self-study of the language for years. Why does it matter? What does it have to do with everything?"
"Will you speak French now?" he asked.
"But why? Tell me first what is happening to you."
"Speak French first, cara mia. It might bring things into perspective."
"Gomez?"
"French please first, my love,"
Morticia sighed in defeat. "Gomez, mieux vous expliquer tout cela."
She barely finished her sentence when he brought her hand to his lips and fervently kissed it. "What…?" she began but he completely ignored her and continued kissing her hand. His kisses were slowly crawling up to her forearm, on the crook of her arm, her shoulders, pursuing to go even to her neck. "Gomez!" she cried, shaking him up, and thankfully stopping him from kissing her any further.
Gomez looked at her, confusion evident in his eyes.
"Explanation please?" she asked, mirroring his confusion.
"I have not the slightest idea," he said. She studied him for a bit and decided that he was telling the truth. "All I know is that when you speak French, I just feel… well, I do not know how I feel. My insides were bubbling, my mind was clouded, and I just want to kiss you."
She chuckled softly, despite herself. "You do not make sense, Gomez."
"I know," he agreed. "But it was like that, Tish."
"'Tish'?" she repeated. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows were creased in the middle.
"Though you still look breathtaking when you frown, I would rather you not do so," he said easing her frown with his index finger. "Yes, Tish. May I call you that?"
"Oh, Gomez, you are charming," she commented with a smile. She relaxed her face, and ultimately lost her frown. "Perhaps asking my permission is already moot, darling, as you have already called me that."
"Point well made," he said, returning her smile.
For the rest of the night, they spoke about anything that cropped up in their minds. There were times that neither of them would speak, but it was just fine. Neither of them remembered falling asleep, but it was Morticia who first woke up after a rooster crowed several times.
When she opened her eyes, she was first disoriented by the amount of view she saw: the willow tree beside her balcony was almost within reach, the light from the sky was brighter without the curtains from the balcony door. Come to think of it, her balcony door was not on sight. That was when she realized that she was sitting on her balcony and not her bed. And the reason why she was there was because of Gomez Addams, her beau.
She smiled, liking the sound of that even in her mind.
She gently turned and saw that he was peacefully sleeping with his head resting on her shoulder. She vaguely remembered that during the night, they shifted from their position and sat with his back on the wall and her back on his chest, just like in the beginning of their night conversation. She must have fallen asleep on his arm.
"Gomez," she whispered. "Gomez, darling." She reached out a hand and gently caressed his cheek.
"Mmm?" he asked incoherently, his eyes still shut.
"Darling? Wake up."
"Morning?" he mumbled, still half asleep.
"Yes, dear. It is morning already."
Reluctantly, Gomez opened his eyes. He squinted at the weak morning light. Then he looked at her and smiled sleepily. "Morning, my love."
"Good morning, Gomez," she replied, returning his smile. She touched his cheek. "You better go."
"You want me to leave already?" he teasingly asked. He looked at her with hurt puppy eyes.
"Oh, darling, I would love for you to stay here," she whispered. "But it is already six in the morning; I need to prepare for my class. And you should return to your home and sleep for a couple of hours. But I would need to redress your wound first." She stood up and went inside her room, not letting him stop her.
"Can I not stay?" he asked. She did not immediately reply. She emerged from her bed room carrying her medical supplies and sat on her legs as she gently checked on the wound on his wound. It was still fresh given that he carved so deeply, but it was no longer bleeding.
"You need to sleep," she said as she lightly dabbed the gin-soaked cloth on his wound. He hissed as it stung.
"I need you," he said in between hisses through gritted teeth.
"Too dependent, Gomez, darling," she warned. To prove her point, she applied extra pressure on his wound as she covered it with gauze and medical tape. He grunted in pain. "It is not adorable. There," she said, picking up her supplies. "All fixed."
Pouting, he slowly stood up, holding onto the wall for support. He did some practice walking along the balcony as she returned the pillows and medical supplies inside her room.
"Better?" she asked, casually leaning on the balcony door.
"Yes, thank you," he answered. He turned to her. "I will see you later, then."
She did not respond. Instead, she just smiled her special smile, reserved just for him. With a soaring heart, he then started to climb over the balcony, more careful than necessary because of his injured leg.
Clinging onto a branch of the willow tree beside the railing, he said, "Just one French, please, Tish?"
Her smile widened. "J'taime," she said without any hesitation.
He stared at her, flabbergasted. He did not even have the slightest urge to kiss her. He just stood there, mouth hanging open, his one arm wrapped around the willow tree branch, while the other holding onto the balcony railing.
She gazed back to him, smiling serenely.
"Did you just…?" he finally asked, his voice barely audible.
"I will see you later, Gomez, darling" she said, still smiling. She turned around and was about to enter her bedroom, when he jumped over the railing onto the balcony and spun her to face him.
"Will you say that again?" he requested.
She shook her head with a sly smile. "Pushing your luck too much, my dear."
"But did you really…?" he started but could not continue.
"Goodness, Gomez, you could barely put two words together," she teased. Seeing him looking all confused and shocked, she changed tack. "Bien bien. Monsieur Addams, je tiens à vous dire combien Je t'aime. Je souhaite que mon français suffira pour toute la journée. "
As quick as lighting, he grabbed her hand and showered it with fervent kisses. "Tish, by some reason your French drives me wild!" he exclaimed in between kisses. From her arm, he proceeded kissing the base of her neck, creeping up her nap.
"Gomez," she whispered to stop him, but frankly, she was enjoying his lips on her skin. Either he did not hear her or he decided to ignore her, as he continued kissing her, this time on her jaw. "Gomez!" she hissed. "Stop!"
Deciding that her now-beau probably was too enjoying himself, she gently dug her nails on his wrist, and hissing on his ear, "Gomez, stop!" She gently slapped him on the shoulder. "Control, Gomez!"
"Wha –?" he said as he finally emerged from her jaw after she dug her nails deeper into his wrist. Upon realizing what he did, he stared at her, eyes wide in shock. "I'm sorry, Tish! I really am very sorry! I do not know what came over me. I'm sorry, cara mia!"
"Quite alright," she said, waving off his apologies with a kiss on the cheek. "But please, darling, control yourself next time."
"I will, my love, I will," he said. He took her hand again and planted a chaste kiss. "Forgive me."
"I do," she replied, smiling kindly at him.
He smiled back. "Well, my love, I must go. I must go before I lose myself any further." Once again, he climbed over the balcony railing and started to climb down the willow tree.
"Gomez?" she softly called. He paused and looked up at her. She walked toward him and placed both of her hands on the either side of his face. She leaned forward and gently kissed him. "I love you, Gomez," she murmured. Morticia let go of him and retreated to her room, closing the balcony door, leaving Gomez, baffled by her dazzling way of saying good bye.
Ophelia was about to call Morticia when a knock on the door interrupted her. Wondering who the person might be outside and knowing that Christian was sick and would not be coming to school that day, Ophelia walked to the door and opened it. It was Gomez.
"You!" she cried, getting angry all over again. "What on earth are you doing here?! How dare you come here after what you did to my sister?!"
"Ophelia, I –" Gomez started to explain but Ophelia cut him off.
"Have you any idea how distraught she is?! She was barely speaking to me this morning! She was not even drinking her morning tea! She just sat there, staring into space looking nothing but a living person! And now you come here? What for?" She stepped forward, pointing a threatening finger at him. He almost cowered at the sight of her looking so murderous. She smiled at his discomfort. "Yes, you should be scared, Gomez Addams! Because I am capable of murder as much as Morticia's African strangler! You have the nerve of coming here looking so bright and confident. Well, let me tell you, I will wipe more than that ridiculous mustache from your face!"
"Ophelia –" he almost pleaded.
"Don't you dare 'Ophelia' me! I will –"
"Ophelia?" Morticia's voice from inside the house rang out. Ophelia and Gomez looked back inside and saw Morticia coming to their direction, her bag over her shoulder, looking confused. "What are you doing? Why were you shouting?"
"I was –" Ophelia began but abruptly stopped upon seeing her sister's hair. "You let down your hair!"
Instead of replying, she looked beyond her and saw Gomez almost cowering behind Ophelia. "Gomez?" Morticia asked. "What are you doing here?"
Before he could even open his mouth to answer, Ophelia swiveled her head to his direction and tried killing him with just the look from her eyes. "He was just leaving, were you not?" She turned back to Morticia. "Good thing you finally let down your hair! I have been telling you that for the past 18 years of our lives!"
Still, Morticia chose to ignore her sister and peered to Gomez.
"Hello, Morticia," he said, looking sheepish.
"You dare talk to my sister?!" Ophelia cried, completely losing her head.
"Why are you shouting at him?" Morticia asked, pulling Ophelia away from Gomez, who was sweating despite the autumn wind blowing.
"Why are you defending him?" Ophelia asked as she watched her sister side with Gomez.
"Because you are accosting him for no apparent reason," Morticia replied. She turned to Gomez, "Are you alright?"
"Yes," he replied. "Just quite shaken."
"You should be!" Ophelia cried.
"Ophelia, what is happening?" Morticia asked.
"You tell me what is happening, Morticia," Ophelia answered, her voice as shrill as ever. "For the past few days you have been as dead as our great grandmother because of the sorrow you were feeling which he caused. Yet now, you are defending and shielding him from my wrath!"
"Ophelia, please calm down," Morticia said in a low, soothing voice. "Gomez and I already spoke with each other last night."
"He wasn't here last night," Ophelia contradicted.
Finally regaining his confidence now that Morticia was with him (or was it because he was with Morticia?), Gomez spoke up. "Oh, believe me, Ophelia, I was here last night."
Ophelia swiveled her head to his direction and glared murderously. "Did I invite you to this conversation?" she snarled. Then she turned to her sister, her eyes demanding an answer.
"Gomez was indeed here last night," Morticia confirmed.
"He couldn't be here!" Ophelia cried. "I was downstairs all night, I would know if he came and knocked."
Morticia and Gomez looked at each other, a certain amusement danced in their eyes. "Well, that was because he did not knock," Morticia gently began. Her voice was soft, attempting to placate her seething sister. "He went directly upstairs."
"UPSTAIRS?!" Ophelia shrieked. The birds on the trees flew in fear of her outburst. "He was in your room?"
"Ophelia, please cease from yelling," Morticia asked as she and Gomez looked around them, looking whether anyone was barging to their direction due to the ruckus Ophelia was causing. "You might wake the neighbors up."
"I do not care if I wake the neighbors up!" Ophelia continued shouting. "Besides, our only neighbors are Elizabeth and Christian! Why was he in your room?!"
Morticia sighed in resignation, but still continued speaking in a soft voice. Nothing would make her lose her head like her sister, even when she was as angry as she was. "Gomez was not in my room. We were in the balcony, simply talking."
"Oh," was Ophelia's only response. Then she decided to change tack. "And you believed everything he has told you?"
"Well, not at –" Morticia began but Ophelia interrupted her.
"Of course!" she cried. "Why would you – wait, what?" she asked upon realizing what her sister just said.
Morticia sighed again, this time in exasperation. "I will explain, Ophelia. Both Gomez and I will explain. We just beg that you would cease from interrupting us and keep a cool head. And it would be wise if we continue this discussion inside the house."
Ignoring Ophelia, Morticia took Gomez's hand and together, they entered the house, leaving the former behind. "She is becoming to sound and act like Mother. And it is already getting into my nerves," Ophelia heard Morticia say as the two of them left. Before following them, she narrowed her eyes at their intertwined fingers.
When she entered, Ophelia found her sister seating on an arm chair and Gomez on the arm rest of the same chair. His hands were casually draped on her shoulders. Her eyes further narrowed, they were almost closed. She sat on the other arm chair.
"Well?" she probed, her eyebrows raised way high.
"No interruptions, Ophelia," Morticia repeated.
"Fine," she replied, rolling her eyes.
Morticia and Gomez shared a look and seemed to converse with just a single glance.
"I was not, nor have I ever met with Natalie," Gomez began to which, by some unknown reason to Ophelia, made Morticia smile. Ophelia scoffed loudly.
"No interruptions," Morticia reminded.
"I have no proof to provide but I have never or will I ever buy Natalie roses," Gomez continued as if he was not cut in. "The days I did not meet with Morticia, I still made sure that I see."
Ophelia looked at him, utterly confused. Her sister spoke up to explain. "Every night, he would climb the willow tree to my balcony and watch me sleep. Of course I did not know that until last night."
Ophelia's eyes narrowed again. He continued.
"Yesterday, after you and Phoebe told me that you didn't know where Morticia was, I searched for her all over the campus. When I did not see her anywhere, I knew she was home. And so last night, despite knowing that once seen, I might be murdered to pieces, I came over again and watched her sleep just like before.
"I truly wanted to apologize but I was too chicken. And then there she was, gloriously beautiful in black nightgown –"
"You were only wearing your nightgown when he came?!" Ophelia cried but Morticia did not bat an eyelid. She just glared at her to remind her about their agreement to be silent during the explanation.
"– her hair gently blowing in the light wind… and her beautiful blue eyes colder than the glaciers in hatred," he smiled despite the memory of her angered face. "But regardless of everything, an explanation is still the best remedy."
"And…?" Ophelia pressed, ignoring her supposed silence.
"And we made up," Gomez finished with a smile.
"You made out?!" she cried.
Before responding, Morticia and Gomez first shared a delighted look. Ophelia nearly passed out.
"We made up," Morticia then corrected, though hers and Gomez's eyes were shining mischievously.
"And…?" Ophelia asked again.
"And what?" Morticia asked, confused. "What response are you exactly looking for?"
"What are you two exactly, now? A couple? Friends? Acquaintances? What?"
Morticia and Gomez shared another look, a look Ophelia knew too well not to recognize. "I thought it was already too obvious, Ophelia," Morticia said, delighted. She and Gomez held each other's hand, their eyes both sparkling with affection.
It did not take long for Ophelia to be convinced of Morticia's and Gomez's relationship. It has been more or less a decade since she had witnessed her sister be genuinely happy – and that was because Morticia found out that she was a witch. Gomez also seemed happier, though Ophelia had not seen him in his lowest point to compare it with. He was practically bouncing at the balls of his feet.
"When would you be telling Phoebe about this?" Ophelia asked, shouldering her bag. She watched Gomez attempt to take Morticia's bag but her sister resisted.
"There is no need, darling," Morticia said, giving Gomez a peck on the cheek. She turned to Ophelia. "Why do you already have your bag with you, Ophelia? Are you leaving for class already? We are about to go to Phoebe's house to tell her."
"Shouldn't you just call her instead? And besides, do you even know where she lives?" Ophelia asked in return. Then she addressed her sister's other question. "Yes, I am leaving early. I want to give you two some space."
"Space?" Gomez repeated. "What for?" He had already given up trying to convince Morticia to let him carry her bag for her. Instead, he went to the coat's peg behind the main door to retrieve her cloak.
At the same time, Morticia spoke. "Are you not coming with us?" She then eyed her coat held by Gomez. "Is it cold outside, darling?"
"It's drizzling, cara," he replied. He held out her cloak behind her, she obliged.
"I do not want to disturb you," Ophelia replied as she watched them. No any sign of hurt or pity plead whatsoever was present in her voice.
"Disturb us?" Morticia repeated as she fastened the clasp of her cloak around her neck. She shook her head with a smile. "Do not be silly, Ophelia."
"I actually prepared us breakfast," Gomez added, freeing Morticia's hair from being tucked under her cloak.
"Morticia doesn't have breakfast," Ophelia countered, frowning. Was being in a relationship with Gomez changed her sister that much? They have been together for only several hours, could a change happen that quickly? Ophelia was not certain how to feel about the idea.
"Oh, I have tea for her," he replied. He and Morticia headed to the door.
Ophelia smiled. At least Gomez made his research.
"Are you coming?" Morticia asked, looking back at her from the porch.
"You bet," Ophelia answered, smiling widely and following them out. Remembering her previously unanswered question, she paused after locking the main door and putting the key underneath the dead potted pot beside the door. "Wait. You still have not answered my question. Does either of you know where Phoebe lives?"
"I do not, but Gomez does," Morticia responded. Upon reaching his Duisenberg, Gomez automatically opened the passenger door for her. However, she did not climb in immediately. She turned to her sister. "Will you be alright in the back seat, Ophelia?"
"Of course, don't mind me," she replied, waving her concern away. She flashed her a genuine smile before opening the backseat door and climbing in without a word.
Both Morticia and Gomez just shrugged and followed Ophelia's action, went inside the car, and drove away with a belch of dark smoke. Surprisingly, the journey to Phoebe's house was short.
"Phoebe just lives a few blocks away yet you did not know that, Morticia?" Ophelia asked accusingly as they all piled out of the car.
"I am not entirely social, Ophelia," Morticia replied. She raised a questioning eyebrow to Gomez, who just simply smiled it off.
"Yes, but you are friends, for goodness's sake," her sister pointed out.
"Phoebe insists on meeting me somewhere else or on me phoning her," Morticia explained. Before stepping in front of the main door, she took a moment to admire Phoebe's house.
It was a single storey house, very much unlike their leased haunted-looking house. It looked like a traditional Irish dwelling - made of old granite stones mixed with clay, with vines climbing up the walls. The rood was made up of sandstone flags, only several shades darker than the walls. There was a stone chimney at the far end of the house, which was, at the moment, emitting spirals of smoke. There were shrubbery growing on the lawn of the house, full of wild flowers and plants Morticia was very much familiar with.
They walked past the garden and stood in front of the door with a brass skull-shaped knocker. "Besides, we have classes together from morning until afternoon. Then we would go to the library afterwards. There is actually no point in knowing where she lives, especially when she did not willingly divulge it."
"Point well made as usual, Tish," Gomez said, kissing her hand, which he only let go when holding his car's stick shift while driving. Ophelia mouthed with a slight frown the moniker Gomez chose for her sister. Lucky for her, neither noticed her reaction.
Morticia held the skull brass knocker and knocked. The heavy metal on the similarly heavy door emitted a loud noise that shook their eardrums. The three of them smiled in agreement of Phoebe's choice of furniture.
The door creaked open and revealed an elderly woman with a dark green tinge in her skin. It was a few shades darker than Phoebe's and they instantly knew that the woman who opened the door was her grandmother and another banshee.
It was unusual for Morticia to be afraid of anything. She had long overcome her fear of Raggedy Annes, rainbow sprinkles, and sugar plums. She had also read and imagined all possible mythical creatures, not only from the American culture, but also those from the other parts of the world. She had also befriended a real life banshee. She thought she had no fear left in her. However, upon seeing Phoebe's grandmother, Morticia could not help the chill that ran down her spine.
Phoebe's grandmother was old, her black almost floor-length hair was splattered with graying hair. Her eyes were black behind those slanted eyes, even narrower as she glared at their direction. She was not accommodating at all, in fact, she was quite suspicious at their presence, ready to shriek until the visitors die, if provoked.
Morticia felt Ophelia and Gomez from either side of her shiver in fear. Finding courage from their intertwined hands, Morticia swallowed hard and spoke in a low voice. "We are friends of Phoebe's. We came here to collect her."
The older banshee looked less wary, though still did not express kindness. "Come inside. I will call her." The hairs on their skin rose at the sound of her raspy voice.
They followed Phoebe's grandmother inside the Irish dwelling. Inside was very simplistic, a long worn out but comfortable couch was in the center of the small living room, facing an old television set. Beyond the living room was a wooden dining table adjacent to the kitchen, where a stone stove was situated. The stove was connected to the stone chimney they noticed earlier. On the other side of the living room and dining area were two separate bedrooms, which both doors were closed.
Morticia, Gomez, and Ophelia sat on the long couch and waited for Phoebe. None of them spoke. Unconsciously brought by her irrational fear, Morticia held Gomez's hand tighter, which was cold and clammy, opposite its usual warm and firm.
"Morticia?" Phoebe called coming from the bedroom beside the living room. The three of them turned. They saw that the older banshee was by the kitchen table, eyeing them. "What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?"
It was an honest question, not an unwelcoming one. Morticia understood what her friend meant. She let go of Gomez's hand and stood up to air kiss her friend. Immediately, her irrational fear evaporated. Phoebe noticed Morticia's hair.
"You let down your hair!" she cried gleefully. "I have been telling you to do that for weeks!"
"And I have been telling her that for years," Ophelia spoke before Morticia could open her mouth to respond. "About time, don't you think?"
"Quite true," Phoebe agreed. Then realizing who commented, she paused and looked who were on the couch. Upon seeing Gomez, her face hardened like a stone, not unlike her grandmother. Her voice rose. "What is he doing here?"
"Phoebe, please calm down," Morticia immediately said, putting her hand on her friend's shoulder to appease her. "We will explain."
Seeing her granddaughter looked livid, the older banshee approached them angrily, her hair magically flowing and glowing behind her. Her eyes dilated in anger. Gomez froze in genuine fear.
"Phoebe, please make your grandmother calm down," Morticia added, looking alarmed as she gazed in amazement and fear at Phoebe's grandmother. However, her friend did not seem to hear her. The two banshees were ready to shriek. Having not much of a choice, Morticia hurriedly whispered in Phoebe's ear. "Gomez explained everything last night to me and just this morning to Ophelia. He did not give the roses to Natalie; she was merely faking it to antagonize me. He apologized and we are now together… in a relationship."
The angered look in Phoebe's eyes was instantly extinguished, followed by her grandmother's upon seeing her granddaughter's calmed expression.
"Wait, what?" Phoebe said, finally realizing what Morticia was trying to say.
"Gomez and I are in a relationship," Morticia repeated. She watched closely as her friend's eyes slowly glimmered with unprecedented joy?. Morticia slowly smiled.
Phoebe turned to Ophelia, waiting for confirmation. The latter nodded with a smile not unlike her sister's. She then turned to Gomez, who smiled sheepishly (but also charmingly) at her.
"Oh, I am so happy for you!" she said, embracing her friend. "Why did you not tell me immediately? You could have phoned."
"I told you," Ophelia commented, though jokingly.
"I did not think it would be prudent to tell you the news over the telephone," Morticia replied. "And upon our arrival here, you were attempting to kill Gomez…" Then she added, "Well, you and your grandmother, that is. Please do not be offended Phoebe but, why is she angry at us?"
"Gran?" Phoebe asked, almost laughing. "Oh, she's not angry at you. She's just a bit paranoid. Not many people treat us with goodness." She reached out a hand to her grandmother, beckoning her closer. She obliged. "Gran, these are my friends, Morticia and Ophelia Frump, and Gomez Addams. They are both witches, though Ophelia is a white witch, while Morticia is a dark witch, and Gomez is… well, I do not know. You three, this is my grandmother, Gran Andromeda Lars."
Morticia held out a hand to shake Gran Lars', who did not hesitate. She cracked a smile, which waned the fear in Morticia. Ophelia and Gomez followed suit.
"How did you know that I am a white witch?" Ophelia asked Phoebe.
"Mere guess… and experience, perhaps," she replied. She looked at Gomez. "I still require an explanation."
"My pleasure," Gomez answered with a smile. Now that he knew that he would not be killed by either banshee, he recovered his confidence and took Morticia's hand. "But perhaps I could do that over something to eat?"
"Eat?" Phoebe repeated, looking horrorstruck. "We did not prepare anything."
Gran Lars moved to the kitchen and whip something up, but Gomez stopped her.
"I brought food," he said.
"Did you, now?" Phoebe asked, sounding and looking impressed.
"Trying to impress us," Ophelia playfully whispered.
"I will not deny that," Gomez said, his eyes twinkling. He kissed Morticia's hand. "I will just get the food from the Duisenberg, Tish."
"Let me go with you," she volunteered.
He shook his head. "Stay. I know Phoebe and Ophelia are dying to hear details." He kissed her hand again and left.
Both Ophelia and Phoebe, even Gran Lars, looked at Morticia with raised eyebrows, looking amused and impressed, as if to say, "Good catch!" She just smiled slyly and pointed to the dining table. "Shall we?"
After their breakfast, they all bid Gran Lars good bye and went to the Duisenberg to go to their classes. Though Ophelia's class was out of the way, Gomez still drove her to the Agricultural Building. The next stop was Morticia's and Phoebe's first period with Professor Belch at the Literature Building.
Gomez switched off the car's engine and opened the car door for Morticia.
"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled.
"Bringing you to class," he answered. He nodded his head to the general direction of her classroom. "To stop Nicole from having fantasies of me courting her."
Instead of commenting on his intentional misnaming of Natalie like usual, Morticia gave him her shy smile. Holding her hand, Gomez, Morticia, and Phoebe climbed the building.
They were not late, but Professor Belch was surprisingly early. Upon seeing Gomez, his face broke into a ridiculously joyous smile.
"If it isn't Mr. Addams!" he cried. The whole class's attention all settled to the three newcomers. Morticia and Phoebe noticed Natalie and her friends glaring at their direction, while some, who previously listened to Natalie proudly announced that she was dating Gomez, were ogling in disbelief at her. The two smiled victoriously.
"Professor Belch," Gomez greeted rather sheepishly. Morticia wondered how the two of them knew each other, after all, the subject Professor Belch taught was World Mythology, and Gomez's course was Political Science.
"I taught Mr. Addams Literature in his second year," Professor Belch answered Morticia's unspoken question.
"Oh…" was her only response.
"And barely passed," Gomez added, still looking sheepish.
"Oh…" Morticia and Phoebe commented, though rather slyly.
"Yes," the professor agreed. Then he added in disappointed tone, "Quite intelligent but generally wasted."
If it was possible, Gomez looked even more embarrassed.
"But I have been hearing a lot of good things in the faculty hall, Mr. Addams," Professor Belch said. "Your major subject professors are quite impressed with the great development in your work. I now see the reason why. You have quite a muse, Mr. Addams."
"Could not agree more, Professor Belch," Gomez proudly said. He raised his intertwined hand with Morticia and kissed hers.
Instead of being shy about it, Morticia proudly smiled. At the corner of her eye, she saw Natalie stared at them, completely horrorstruck. She heard Phoebe and the rest of the class snickered, probably at Natalie's direction.
"Take good care of Miss Frump," Professor Belch said. "She is a diamond."
"I fully intend to, Professor," Gomez agreed. He narrowed his eyes as if rethinking. "But I do not think Morticia is a diamond. Yes, diamonds are the most precious stone just like her, but the stone itself does not suit her. Not fully, that is." He paused. Then finally said, "She is my black diamond."
Morticia vaguely heard a gasp and saw that Natalie burst into tears.
Professor Belch smiled, unaware of his overly emotional student. "Well, Mr. Addams, it is time to start my class. If you would unhand Miss Frump so she and Miss Munster could go to their seats."
Gomez kissed Morticia's hand again. But before leaving, she planted a chaste kiss on his cheek.
Natalie wailed in despair.
A month of romance and happiness later, after their date at the movie house to watch the The Exorcist and a late nightcap, Gomez arrived at his apartment and wondered why the lights were switched on inside. It was not until he stepped inside the apartment and saw his mother seated on the never been used couch, that he realized what date it was.
"Mama!" he almost cried in shock. His eyes were wide. "How long have you been here? Was I supposed to pick you up at the bus station? Oh, I am sorry, Mama!" He rushed to her and locked her in an embrace, which caught her off guard.
Mrs. Addams awkwardly patted him on the back, unsure how to react on his sudden act of endearment. "You never pick me up, Gomez, dear. I always ride the bus to town and hire a cab to drive be here."
"But I should have picked you up," he insisted, his head still buried in his mother's flyaway and frizzy hair. "Or have at least have Lurch drive you down here."
"Ah, you know, Lurch," Mrs. Addams said, still uncertain of her son's actions. "He has so many things on his plate. And besides, he is usually out of town, looking for your brother while you are at school."
"Speaking of Fester…" Gomez pulled away from his mother and sat beside her. He looked intently into her eyes, almost not batting an eyelid. "We need to talk, Mama. Well, I need to tell you something."
The mention of Fester's name brought tears onto Mrs. Addams's eyes. Since his disappearance, Fester's name was never mentioned by anyone in the Addams household. They, from the head of the house, Mr. Addams, to their butler, Lurch, learned to refer Fester as 'him' or 'my son' or 'your brother'. It was just too painful for them to mention his name.
In the Addams mansion, Gomez avoided any mention of Fester's name or even any reference of him. For Mrs. Addams to hear Fester's name, the pain of his loss was somehow alleviated. And for her to hear the name directly from Gomez made her even more emotional. She knew that by even a mere mention of the name was very painful for her son.
"Mama…" he began as tears welled up in his eyes. How he wished Morticia was there to hold his hand and give him strength. Realizing that she was not, he took hold of his mother's hand and placed his forehead on them. He felt his voice cracking even before he spoke. "Mama, I am sorry for Fester's loss. I am sorry for Papa's death. And I am sorry I have brought you so much pain."
He did not elaborate but Mrs. Addams understood everything he did not say, she is, after all his mother. She did not respond. Instead, she pulled him closer and hugged him tightly. She could hear him crying on her shoulders.
Even without him saying, she knew what was happening inside him in the seven years of Fester's absence. She knew that he was void of emotions brought by the too much pain he felt. She knew that he was very angry at himself for doing what he did, not only to Fester, but also to her and Mr. Addams, which brought him to his death, and most especially, to the Amore twins, who were merely the pawns of his ploy. She also knew that he was failing school and was becoming socially inept because of his wayward, almost nonexistent emotions.
She just let him cry. She held him for who knew how long, until his tear ducts were empty of tears. He finally raised his eyes to meet his mother's, eager to hear a response.
"I forgive you, Gomez," Mrs. Addams finally said. Then she added, "But you must also forgive yourself."
He smiled weakly. "I already had."
She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. She returned his smile. "I wonder what took you so long."
He chuckled as he wiped of the tears on his cheek with a handkerchief.
"A person came to make me realized that nothing will change if I do not live," he said.
Mrs. Addams noted the glint of happiness in Gomez's eyes, and understood what he meant. Her smile grew. "That person must be very special."
"Oh, she is, Mama," he replied, grinning widely.
"She?" Mrs. Addams repeated, trying to play dumb to encourage her son to divulge further information.
"Yes, Mama. I will introduce you to her tomorrow,"
"I am looking forward to that," she looked at him knowingly. "I am supposing that you are home late because of this mysterious young lady, am I right?"
Gomez smiled even wider; his grin was practically from ear to ear. That was enough explanation for his mother, who smiled in return, clearly delighted for her son. She then stood up and Gomez followed.
"Where will you be sleeping, Mama?" he asked, realizing that it was the first time that her mother would stay in the apartment. He looked around and saw at the corner of the couch his mother's bag. It was big enough to serve as an overnight bag. "Did you bring clothes?"
"I always do, just in case I could not return home," Mrs. Addams replied, picking up her bag. "I will be sleeping in your brother – Fester's room," she corrected herself as she searched in the depths of her bag for the key. "You should make the room available for visitors, Gomez."
"No one visits, except for you," he said, taking his mother's bag as they walked to Fester's room. She unlocked the door and opened it. She and Gomez stared at the room silently. Though he had already expressed his remorse for what he did and he had already forgiven himself and asked for forgiveness from his mother, Fester's room was still too much for him. He decided to retreat to his room. "Er… good night, Mama."
"Good night, son," Mrs. Addams replied, mirroring his son's distracted voice.
The following morning, Gomez woke up at the smell and sound of burnt egg frying. He went to the adjacent bathroom to take a bath. Several moments later, he entered the kitchen wearing yet another pinstripe suit.
"Good morning, Gomez," Mrs. Addams greeted. She put a plate out for him and placed the egg she was frying on it. "There is freshly burnt toast on the table."
"Thank you," he replied, picking up his plate and bringing it to the table. Indeed, there was freshly burnt toast just for him. "Have you eaten already, Mama?"
"Yes," she answered. She stood beside him and watched him eat.
"There is nothing like freshly burnt breakfast," he commented with a smile. "I have been eating stale bread for the past few months."
"Why did you not burn them?" she asked. "I gave you enough stale bread for burning when you left."
"Too busy," he simply said. The same twinkle from last night when he mentioned the mysterious woman was present in his eyes. Mrs. Addams understood immediately.
"Though I would be very glad to meet this wonderful young woman, I would still require you to accompany me first to your father's old house," she said smiling. It was very refreshing to see his son project emotion. It was even more enjoyable to see him smile. "We will be paying the Parkers for their service. Also, I would like to see how the house looks like now, and see whether somebody finally realized how enchanting the house was and rent it."
"Oh, alright," he said, sounding quite hesitant. "Though I do not know where the house is."
She stared at him in disbelief. "We have been going to that house for six years, Gomez Alonzo Addams!"
He looked at his mother, who now looked formidable, and just shrugged.
Mrs. Addams sighed. "As soon as you finished eating, we will go," she said with such finality that made him gulp down the food on his plate without any further ado. He jumped off his seat and carried his empty plate on the sink and stuck it there together with the pan previously used by his mother.
"All set," he said while his mouth was still full. He brushed off the crumbs from his hands and took the key from the kitchen counter.
Shaking her head as she was both amused and a bit irritated, Mrs. Addams grabbed her bag from the dining table and walked out of the house, with her son jogging after her. He arrived at the Duisenberg ahead of her and opened the car door before sliding on the other side of the car.
"Please direct the way," he said as he switched on the engine.
"Just drive away from the campus and turn left on the third corner after the intersection," she said, again shaking her head.
They drove away and he followed her instructions, vaguely noting that the road they were taking was all too familiar for him.
"Take the left fork and turn left on the first corner."
He could not believe his eyes. They were driving towards Morticia and Ophelia's neighborhood! He must have passed by his father's old house a great number of times without him knowing.
"Stop over here," Mrs. Addams finally said. They both climbed out of the car. Gomez was about to go to the house they just passed when, to his amazement, his mother went to Morticia and Ophelia's home. She walked to the right side of the house, passing by the willow tree Gomez was all too familiar with, and going directly to the cottage behind the main house. Elizabeth stood with her back at the newcomers as she tended her overgrowth, oblivious of her visitors.
"Mrs. Parker?" Mrs. Addams called out. Elizabeth turned and broke into a smile upon seeing her.
"Oh, hello!" she said. After all the years they have been meeting, she still does not know the name of Alonzo's wife. She looked beyond her and saw Gomez, looking bewildered. She greeted him. "Hello, Gomez! You look lost."
"You know my son?" Mrs. Addams asked, surprised that Elizabeth knew Gomez. After all, whenever they visit, he would stay in the car. He did not still even know how to get to the house, how could Elizabeth know him?
"He is your son?" Elizabeth asked in return, surprised as well.
"Gomez?" a low voice called out. The three of them turned and saw Morticia and Ophelia coming to their direction, both looking quite confused.
"We thought you were coming over," Morticia continued. "But you just passed by the house. We wondered what was wrong." She looked to Mrs. Addams and smiled at her. "Good morning."
"Good morning," Mrs. Addams replied, feeling warm towards her for some reason. She turned to Gomez. "Who are these people, Gomez?"
"Who is that?" Ophelia whispered to Morticia, who just shrugged. Morticia studied Gomez's face and was not certain what to make of his reaction. He was shocked and confused, but delighted all at the same time.
"Allow me to do the introductions," Gomez said, stepping forward to interrupt Elizabeth who was to explain. He stepped beside Morticia and pulled her closer before kissing her hand. He addressed his mother. "Mama, I would like you to meet the woman who made sense of my wayward life, Morticia." Then he turned to Morticia. "Tish, meet my mother."
Morticia's eyes grew in surprise. She stepped forward and held out a hand, which Mrs. Addams shook. "Hello, Mrs. Addams."
"Hello, Morticia," Mrs. Addams replied with a warm smile. "I heard good things about you, but rather few I must say."
"Please do not believe all the things your son is saying, he tends to be tad exaggerated," Morticia said, smiling also.
"Not when I am talking about you," Gomez interrupted, smiling at the sight of the two most important women in his life getting along pretty well.
"Most especially, when you are speaking of me," Morticia interrupted.
"This is Morticia's sister, Ophelia," Gomez decided to say instead of going against what Morticia said, which was of course true.
"Hello, Mrs. Addams," Ophelia greeted. She also held out a hand, which Mrs. Addams politely shook. "Morticia and I are twins."
"It does not look it," Mrs. Addams said.
"We know," Morticia and Ophelia said in unison.
"Of course, Mama you know Elizabeth," he continued. He saw Christian coming their way. "And that is Elizabeth's son, Christian, also Ophelia's beau." He turned to Elizabeth. "I did not know that this was the house my father left for you to tend. I only learned about that now."
"Wait, you mean to say that we are living in your house?" Ophelia asked.
"Oh, so you are my tenants?" Mrs. Addams also asked. "About time someone decided to stay in this lovely house."
"Yes to both of your questions," Gomez replied. He looked at Morticia apologetically. "Forgive me cara for not telling you, I had no idea."
Morticia placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "Do not apologize, darling. It was not your fault. Although I should have put together the information I got from Elizabeth that the late owner of this house was named Alonzo, and the information that your full name is Gomez Alonzo Addams."
"What's up?" Christian asked upon his arrival. He held Ophelia by the waist.
"We just finished the introductions," Ophelia explained. "This is Gomez's mother, Mrs. Addams."
"Good day, madam," Christian said. "I am Christian, Elizabeth Parker's son."
"He must be inside the house during your previous visits," Elizabeth furthered.
Seeing his confused face, Ophelia continued the explanation. "It so appeared that Gomez is the son of the house's previous owner. But he did not know that until just now."
"I see…" Christian said. "Well, we must be going," he told the others. "Ophelia and I are going downtown to buy supplies for the chocolate cake that we will be baking for tonight."
"Good bye, Mrs. Addams. Bye, Elizabeth and Gomez," Ophelia said. She grinned manically at her twin sister and said in a teasing tone, full of unvoiced communication. "Bye, Morticia…"
"Did I hear correctly?" Mrs. Addams asked as Ophelia and Christian left. The looked disgusted. "Did they say that they will be baking chocolate cake?"
"I am sorry, Mrs. Addams," Morticia answered. "Baking chocolate cake is their pet-peeve."
"I already discouraged Christian while he was young from wanting chocolate," added Elizabeth. "I thought it was just a phase, but apparently he truly adores chocolate cake. And most unfortunately, he shared his odd penchant with Ophelia."
"Shall we continue the conversation inside?" Morticia asked, hoping to sway Mrs. Addams from thinking further about the chocolate cake. "I could make us all a cup of henbane tea."
"Henbane?" Mrs. Addams curiously asked. Her eye brow was raised.
"Yes," Morticia replied, unsure of Mrs. Addams's reaction. "But I have other herbs, should you not want henbane. I picked mandrake leaves from the garden just before you arrive. And there are lilies of the valley, larkspur, hemlock –"
"Do not stress yourself, dear," Mrs. Addams interrupted. "Henbane would be marvelous." She started to walk towards the house with Elizabeth on her heels. She paused to admire Morticia's part of the garden, briefly grimacing on Ophelia's daisy-fied part. "I would assume that this side is yours to tend?"
"Yes, Mrs. Addams," Morticia answered. There was something about Mrs. Frump that made her nervous. She was holding onto Gomez's hand tightly.
"Are you nervous?" Gomez whispered to her ear.
"By some reason," Morticia whispered back.
"Never fear, my love, I will always be with you," he said.
She looked up at him adoringly. He was only five inches taller than her, but provided that she was wearing three-inch heels, their height difference was not very noticeable. She looked ahead and saw that Mrs. Addams and Elizabeth were both engrossed in a conversation to notice them. She turned to Gomez and chastely kissed him on the lips.
"I love you, Gomez," she whispered.
"I love you, too, Tish," he whispered back. He inched closer to her but she slipped away, gliding towards Mrs. Addams and Elizabeth, who were both already in the kitchen. She started preparing tea.
Gomez shook his head yet smiled at the elusiveness of Morticia. He knew only she could pull that off. He followed them and sat his mother and Elizabeth on the dining table. He sat beside his mother, who took his hand.
"Yes?" he asked, looking at her inquiringly.
"I like her," she simply said before letting go of his hand and resuming her conversation with Elizabeth. But before Gomez could react, she turned to him again and said. "Take good care of her, she's for keeps."
End of Chapter 11. I know I said that I will be uploading two chapters before Christmas, but I was quite busy with other stuff that I just finished writing this chapter and there is no Chapter 12 yet. I will try my best to post Chapter 12 before New Year. I hope you guys won't be mad.
Thank you for bearing and waiting for the continuation of this fanfic! Please do not forget to comment and suggest! See you in Chapter 12!
I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!