Chapter 19
James Frump stepped into the shower and turned the water on, cursing when the few seconds of cold spray hit his shoulders, like sharp needles piercing his tense muscles before the water turned to the desired temperature. He closed his eyes, letting the hot water wash over him, hoping it would subdue his pounding headache. Alcohol and minimal sleep really didn't mix well. He knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep without it, without blunting his restless mind until there was no conscious thought left, until he passed out but it never was a restful sleep. He wouldn't even call it to sleep, it was a few hours of not thinking, not feeling, not being, but he would return to consciousness with a pounding headache, exhausted and dehydrated. The pain would still be there, just like his unbearable, debilitating guilt.
Come to think of it, it was almost hilarious. Well, relatively hilarious. Hilarious is some pathetic, twisted way of life. Karma, he supposed. It was hilarious that he spent the last weeks agonising over the prospect of that bloody man, appearing out of nowhere, like a nightmare from the past, demanding to see Morticia, to speak to her, having the audacity to tell him that he had no right to keep her from her family, from him. He almost laughed at the very word. Family. What family was that demented fool talking about? The very family that sent Hester off to that forsaken place to discreetly have her illegitimate child? Was that the family he was referring to?
James was very well aware that Robert never liked him, from the first moment Laura introduced them, and he knew why, because James barely paid the man - Hester's cousin - any attention, because his eyes were only for her - for Hester, and Robert Brathe has seen right through him. And now? All those weeks, he agonised over the prospect of that damned man approaching Morticia, telling her the truth about Hester, about him, and in the end, it was Ophelia who delivered the blow, his own child, his own daughter. And he couldn't even blame her for it. Somehow, it was fitting.
God, if he had the courage to tell Morticia the truth all those years ago, maybe none of this would have happened. But how could he? How was he supposed to look into those adoring eyes and tell her that Laura wasn't her mother, that her real mother was somewhere else - dead, in fact? Dead, because all those years ago he was a despicable coward who shed all responsibility for his actions and the woman he said he loved - to whom he swore his undying love and devotion, was left alone, pregnant with his child. And now she was no longer here, and Morticia no longer had a mother.
He convinced himself that keeping the truth from her would be for the best, that he was protecting her, shielding her from the heartache. She didn't need this truth, she needed a home and she needed love and he was determined to give her just that. Despite the fact that he betrayed her and failed her even before she was born.
James let out a silent curse, then a tired sigh and turned the water off. He reached for the towel, drying himself absently, forcing himself to go through the morning routine.
How did it all turn into such a mess? A Gordian Knot of lies and betrayal, impossible to resolve. Come to think of it, maybe he would prefer if his only problem was still Morticia finding out about Hester, but now? All this on top of Morticia's affair with Gomez seemed like a divine punishment. And if they both insisted on continuing this affair, he could forget about his political career. Although, that was the least of his problems. No matter how difficult it was going to be, no matter how much he dreaded it, he needed to talk to Morticia. He could not imagine the worst way for her to find out about Hester than from Ophelia, he could just imagine how that went.
He finished dressing and winced as he glanced into the intricately ornamented mirror, the one he and Morticia purchased while on the family vacation in Marocco a few years back. When things we a bit better between all of them, when they could still be called a family.
God, he looked awful and he felt worse, and there was little chance that the conversation with Morticia would make him feel any better. He just hoped that bloody Castilian would not be there as well, he was the last person her wanted to encounter today.
Come to think of it, that wasn't entirely accurate, he thought as he noticed his daughter exiting her bedroom. They both stopped in their track on top of the stairs.
Come to think of it, he would rather face the devil himself than Ophelia and she probably knew that too.
He forced himself to hold her stony gaze and cleared his throat, wondering what on earth could he tell her. What could he tell his daughter when her own husband was cheating on her with her sister, the very sister Ophelia blamed for everything that was ever wrong with life?
"You're leaving?" He asked and resisted the overwhelming urge to retreat to his bedroom when the question resulted in a cold glare from Ophelia.
"I'm going to stay at the mansion," she informed him.
He nodded mutely.
"The Addams'?"
Ophelia rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.
"No," she replied coldly, shifting her gym bag over her arm." The mansion my dear husband bought for me while he was secretly fucking that bastard harlot you spawned."
James looked away, swallowing heavily.
His daughter has never hidden her animosity for him, ever since the time she confronted him about Morticia, and he all but told her to keep her mouth shut. He wasn't that callous of course but that was the message, he wasn't about to explain himself to a thirteen-year-old child, after all. She'd do as he told her.
"Can we talk?" He asked hesitantly, surprising himself.
Ophelia, however, looked neither surprised nor interested.
"It's a bit too late for that, don't you think?" She retorted curtly."Tell Mother, I will give her a call later."
He watched her turn away from him and descend the stairs in an angry, swift manner.
"I always tried -" he paused, his throat suddenly dry.
Ophelia stopped abruptly, in the middle of the staircase and slowly turned towards him.
God, how he always dreaded talking to her. How he hated that look of mocking disdain in her eyes. It never failed to shock him how openly she despised him.
"What?" Ophelia prompted him sharply, clearly annoyed."What exactly did you try? What the fuck did you think you try, please enlighten me… ."
"I wanted to be a good father," he replied meekly."To you, and your sister. I never wanted to hurt you - "
"A good father wouldn't have cheated," she shot back."A good father wouldn't have brought his bastard child to his own house."
"You can't blame Morticia for my actions," he tried to argue and almost flinched when she took a few steps towards him.
"What the fuck did you expect by bringing her here?" She asked. "That we're all going to be a happy family? Really? Are you and Mother really that fucking stupid?"
"I wanted to give her family," he retorted forcefully, immediately defensive at her tone."To give her home."
"Oh? Really, well great job," she purred sarcastically and turned away from him again, clearly intent on leaving.
"She's lost her mother -"
Ophelia stopped, but barely turned her head towards him.
"I have little compassion for a whore who seduced a married man," she remarked firmly."She got what she deserved."
"That's not what happened," he defended before he could stop himself but his daughter would have none of it.
He heard her sigh impatiently and then she turned abruptly towards him, her eyes flashing angrily.
"I don't care," she shot back." I don't care what happened. I'm so fucking tired of all of you defending them like they're the ones who were wronged here. She fucked a married man," she went on." She knew very fucking well you were married, that you had a child - that didn't stop her. And her bastard daughter is exactly the same, it didn't bother her to screw my husband behind my back, and it doesn't bother her now to ruin my marriage, so tell me, why should I fucking care about anything that happened to her or to that whore of her mother?"
He swallowed heavily, almost suffocated with the burden of guilt. The thought that he was responsible for this, that she would never forgive him, that neither of his daughters would forgive him.
"I'm sorry - "
"Oh, give me a fucking break," she spat, rolling her eyes. "That's all you've got to say? What does it change? What does it matter that you're sorry?"
"I never wanted to hurt either of you," he insisted, desperately, trying to keep his tears at bay.
"Oh, no, of course, I understand," she mocked."None of you wanted to hurt anyone. Not you, cheating on your wife, not Morticia fucking my husband, not Gomez fucking my sister… no, none of you wanted to hurt anyone and all of you are, naturally, so very fucking sorry."
"Ophelia - "
"But what does your sorry change?" She challenged in a low, accusing whisper. "What is your sorry worth? Nothing. It's not worth anything, just like all of you, so please, don't waste my fucking time with your useless apologies."
If their circumstances were different, Morticia would find it a little amusing that for once she was the one dutifully eating her dinner, while Gomez was absently pushing his roasted potatoes around the plate. But then, Morticia was never one to allow herself to wallow in pain, at least not for too long. Granted, it was harder this time, harder to compartmentalise, to move on from the heartbreak and lies but wallowing in her pain would solve nothing. It never did.
Yes, she was hurt, she fell uprooted and heartbroken but there was nothing she could do about it. The lies. The betrayals. Her own and the two only two people she loved and once trusted completely, the trust that was now completely gone, as if it never existed in the first place. She could not imagine anything that could possibly make her stop feeling that way except perhaps accepting that it will always hurt. But she could not imagine Gomez living this way.
She wondered silently, how did they manage to keep their affair secret even for this short time because the man before her wore his feelings almost vividly obvious. How did he manage to pretend to be happily married even for a day, or a minute when his pain, just as his happiness seemed to consume him almost violently? Where did he bury those feelings for all those months of his courtship and marriage for no one to notice how miserable he was?
Because she sensed the misery in him the moment he stepped through the door. She felt his anguish almost acutely in the way he held her in his arms, the desperate way he kissed her. His thoughts seemed to wander off all evening and there was not a shadow of doubt in her that he was hiding something from her, that something was weighing on his heart and he didn't want to share it with her.
It surprised her how much his behaviour stung.
"Gomez, " she found herself whispering.
He looked at her and blinked, as if surprised she was here.
"I'm sorry, cara," he said, shaking his head slightly, offering her a small, apologetic smile."I was miles away."
She nodded gently and put her knife and fork away almost soundlessly.
"Can we agree on something?" She asked, folding her hands on the top of the table.
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"Don't hide things from me," she told him bluntly and saw him flinch almost immediately.
"Tish -"
"And never lie to me," she continued firmly.
He looked taken aback by her words.
"I'd never lie to you," he countered instantly, offended at the mere suggestion.
Morticia reached for his hand, curling her fingers around his.
"I don't care what your intentions might be, if you think you're protecting me from pain or … - please, don't, " she blinked and swallowed heavily. "If this is going to work, if we're going to last, I need to know that I can trust you, that we can trust each other, I need to know that you won't hide things from me… ever."
He shifted his gaze away, resting it on their entwined hands, and swallowed heavily before replying,
"I'm not hiding things, I just -," he paused, biting his lips into a thin line before looking back at her.
"Just tell me," she encouraged solemnly. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."
He nodded, letting his gaze briefly fall to his plate for an instant before locking his gaze with hers.
"Your mother - ," he whispered and then faltered, swallowing heavily before correcting faintly," Laura, came to see me at my office."
He watched her face for any reaction at all but her face betrayed no emotions at his words, she merely nodded at him in acknowledgement.
"And I don't want to tell you of anything she said," he admitted, clearing his throat." Because the things she said were so awful, I can't make myself repeat them to you."
She could feel her whole body relax almost instantly.
"You don't need to tell me what she said," she remarked evenly." I can imagine."
He shook his head.
"It would hurt you," he told her."The things she said were so hurtful… I don't want to see you hurt."
She nodded, pressing her lips together, but didn't push him further. Truth be told, she wasn't sure she wanted to know anyway. She wanted the truth, but the truth wasn't easy to digest and, after all, ignorance is bliss, indeed.
"I am hurt," she admitted, squeezing his fingers, before continuing in a hoarse whisper, "but I can't get over it… I can't heal from it if I don't know that I can't trust you absolutely and implicitly, do you understand? I need to know that no matter what, no matter how painful the truth, you will never keep it from me. Can I trust you, Gomez?"
"Always," he replied immediately, with such a startling conviction she couldn't help but smile softly.
"We didn't start this the right way," she continued with a firm resolve but allowed the lighter tone to her voice, if only so, "but if we're going to do this, we're going to do this right, there will have to be some rules."
He smiled, recognising the similar words she uttered to him when they first embarked on their affair.
"If ?" He asked.
"There have to be some rules," she corrected, a small smile playing on her lips, as she raised from her chair and made her way around the kitchen table towards him, sitting on his lap and placing her palms against his shoulders.
"I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"I do too," she replied, pressing her lips against his in a soft kiss. "And I want the rule number one of our ever after to be to never lie to each other."
"The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," he promised."Even if it kills me."
She smiled at him. The first real smile he was in her in days. She framed his face with her hands and she leaned towards him again, capturing his lips into another loving kiss.
"Always."
He reached into his inner breast pocket, retrieving the envelope with the plane tickets he arranged.
"Baku," he said."Five days from now."
Morticia nodded, took the envelope and turned it in her hands without examining the content.
"It seems a bit unreal," she whispered."That we're really going to do it."
"Is it too soon?"
"No," she shook her head."No, I think it's just right. There's nothing for us here, the sooner we leave the better."
He nodded in agreement, resting his hand on her thigh.
"And your grandmother?" He asked hesitantly."Do you want to speak to her before we leave?"
She shook her head.
"I don't think I can handle that," she admitted honestly, swallowing heavily, "not yet. I will send her a letter or I'll call her…at some point…I don't know," she paused, feeling her eyes well up with tears and she couldn't help the hoarse note embedded in her voice, "I can't talk to her yet."
Gomez nodded.
"Whatever you need."
She offered him a grateful smile, before pressing the envelope with the plane tickets to her chest.
"I really want this to work," she whispered, regarding him softly. "I never imagined I could ever love anyone as much as I love you."
He smiled and leaned towards her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.
"I love you," he said quietly." I adore you. I know it's not ideal, and I… I realise that I have a lot of issues to work through but - "
"You mean we have a lot of issues to work through," Morticia interjected lightly, before continuing a little sardonically."I don't know if you noticed, but you haven't exactly won the lottery by falling in love with me."
"I haven't?" He asked facetiously, frowning at her, before whispering just above her lips," because it seems to me, Cara mia, that I absolutely hit the jackpot."
The moment she opened her eyes, Debbie Jellinsky swore to herself she would never drink again. Not ever. Not even a shot. Not even a measly pink squirrel. Debbie Jellinsky solemnly swore to herself she would never touch alcohol again. Granted, she rarely got so plastered as she did two nights ago, she didn't know what Addamses put into their alcohol but it all but wiped her consciousness for two days and she still felt like shit.
She dragged herself into the shower, silently thanking all the gods and celestial beings in existence that it was Christmas period and she didn't have to go to work. She was also starving, and nauseous and had a pounding headache and was two steps away from killing someone.
She switched off the water and slipped into her large luxury bathrobe she once pinched from The Palazzo in Vegas, and made her way towards the kitchen, without putting a single light on. What time was it anyway? It all looked the same this time of the year.
She squinted at the note attached to the fringe with Morticia's neat writing on it, telling her that she will be staying at -
"What other apartment, you don't own two apartments what - " Debbie wondered out loud before her jaw dropped at the realisation."Motherfu - he bought her an apartment?"
What in the actual fuck…here she was busting her ass off working for the idiot surgeon, meanwhile Gomez soon-to-be-dead Addams bought Morticia an apartment after knowing her for what? Fifteen minutes?
The fucking injustice was unbelievable.
"You have to teach me your ways," she muttered to the note. "Fucking whole ass apartment," she moaned in outrage as she opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. She barely took a large gulp when a loud knocking reverberated throughout the apartment. She winced at the sound before shouting towards the direction of the door, " if you break the fucking door, the next causality is you, asshole!"
She sighed, already royally pissed off and made her way towards the door, opening it swiftly, fully intending to give a piece of her mind to whoever was standing on the other side.
"Oh, it's you," Debbie greeted brazenly, taking another gulp of water."What do you want?"
"I don't have the time for you today," Ophelia retorted curtly, "move aside."
Debbie put her hand against the door frame, effectively blocking the entrance.
"Look Barbie," she addressed Ophelia." Morticia is not here so you might as well pirouette on those Manolos and make your way out of here."
Ophelia glared at her, and Debbie rewarded her with an obnoxious smile.
"Well, where the fuck is she?" Ophelia asked sharply.
"How the fuck should I know?" Debbie replied in kind. "I'm not her nanny."
Ophelia put her hand on her hips and stared down at Debbie, who decided it would be a good time to examine her own nails.
"Is there anything else I cannot help you with?" She asked, barely sparing Ophelia a look, fully focused on her pink-coated nails.
"I don't know which dumpster truck Morticia picked you out of but it really speaks volumes of how fucked up she is," Ophelia retorted.
"Oh no," Debbie gasped, finally looking at Ophelia with a worried look on her face as she placed her hand on her heart." Oh no, some rich, spoiled, entitled bitch is trying to hurt me with words," Debbie retorted in the most mundane tone she could muster, "how will I cope?"
Ophelia narrowed her eyes.
"Aren't you tired of being a little parasite living off people's backs?"
"Never, it's the lifestyle I'm particularly proud of," Debbie replied tilting her head slightly," besides, you really shouldn't cast stones here, sugar. Anyway, you're welcome to stay here and wait for Morticia but be forewarned, if you're about to jump her throat, I swear to you I'm going to murder you in your sleep."
Ophelia exhaled sharply in disbelief.
"Apparently you've missed the memo but Morticia fucked my husband, she's not the victim here, you psycho bitch," she hissed.
Debbie shrugged.
"I don't care, step a toe out of line and I will cut your body into forty-seven cubes and display your remains at Met."
"You belong in an asylum," Ophelia retorted, taking a step back before taking out a small notepad and a pen from her ridiculously tiny, black Gucci purse. She clicked the pen angrily and scribbled an address before handing the paper to Debbie. "Give this to the whore who's fucking my husband and tell her I want to speak with her."
Debbie took the paper and glanced lazily at the surprisingly neat script.
"You didn't say please," she pointed out.
Ophelia shook her head and rolled her eyes at her.
"You're worse than the ten Plagues of Egypt," she said, placing the pen and the notepad back in her purse.
"Don't know what those are but you are even worse than ten Malibu Barbies," Debbie replied, blatantly shutting the doors in Ophelia's face.
She glanced back at the paper with the address, debating whether she should just trash it. What did that bitch want to talk to Morticia about, anyway? What was there left to say?
The damage was already done, if she were Ophelia, the only thing Debbie would focus on was getting as much money off Gomez Addams as humanly possible and then living her best life as a rich widow. No wait, scratch that, first she'd get rid of those stupid daisies, then kill Gomez and then lived her best life as his heartbroken widow.
Never mind the order, the main thing would be Gomez Addams six feets under.
Gomez Addams couldn't help but smile as he climbed out into his bedroom. He couldn't remember when was the last time he done it, must be a decade ago or so. He felt a little like a coward using the secret passage to get into his bedroom but all things considered, adding cowardice to his long list of offences didn't seem like a big deal.
He noticed the bed was made and untouched, obviously, Ophelia chose not to stay at the mansion and he didn't expect her to. In fact, he was praying she wouldn't be here because frankly speaking, he felt absolutely depleted of energy to deal with her anger, in fact, he didn't want to talk to anyone.
He opened the door to his walk-in wardrobe, noticing that Ophelia's clothes were still scattered around, and grabbed his leather travelling bag. It was large enough to fit the necessities, he'd ask Lurch to send everything else later, once he and Morticia were settled abroad.
Gomez barely twitched when he felt the weight on his shoulder but his lips curled into a welcoming smile.
"Hello, Thing," he greeted.
The little pet tapped against his arm.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" He asked evenly, shoving his expensive shirts into the bag."It's over, Thing, my marriage is over."
Thing twitched hesitantly.
"Are my parents at home?" Gomez asked and Thing shook in negative before tapping against his shoulder in a rapid sequence, making Gomez wince.
He dreaded talking to either of his parents, but he'd rather talk to his mother than face the Colonel, because he knew full well how that was going to go, but there was no way to avoid it, he had to get his passport and the damn thing was locked in the safe in the library. Well, he supposed he could ask Thing to get it for him but he hesitated getting him involved in his mess.
"Please tell Mama that I will come and see her before I leave," Gomez requested softly, closing the almost overfilled bag."And now scram, old man, you know how those things go."
Thing knew better than to argue. He tapped insistently which felt suspiciously to Gomez like 'you're an idiot' and 'it was nice knowing you' before scattering away.
Gomez sighed heavily, grabbing the bag as he made his way downstairs. He knew there was little chance that his father would let him simply grab his documents and leave the house without letting him know what he thought of Gomez's actions. Not that he blamed him, far from it, but it didn't mean by default, that he looked forward to arguing with his father. Arguing with Colonel was the most unproductive undertaking, it never lead them anywhere and never solved anything except adding to their already strained relationship. Gomez doubted it would be any different this time, but then again, better the devil he knew.
Surprisingly, the library was completely deserted, arousing a faint hope that maybe he would manage to leave the house without even seeing his father, let alone talking to him.
It was a naive and stupid thing to hope for.
"One would think you're past the age of sneaking in and out of the house," his father's voice greeted him just as Gomez placed his passport and other documents inside the picket of his suit jacket and closed the safe.
"Father," he acknowledged evenly, replacing the painting of Uncle Imack.
"Going somewhere?"
Gomez licked his dry lips, and turned towards his father, taking briefly in his appearance. His father looked impeccably groomed as usual, but the stress lines around his eyes and drawn expression were evidence enough that he had less than spectacular few days.
"Yes. We've decided to go away," he informed the older man, his tone a little too rigid."At least for the time being."
His father shook his head in disbelief.
"So this is how it's going to be," Harald remarked distastefully." You two are just going to run away."
"Got a better idea?" Gomez asked.
"As a matter of fact I do," he replied firmly. "End this farce and go back to your wife."
Gomez exhaled jadedly. Here they were again. Go back to his wife, as if that was the magic solution. Go back to his wife, the woman he cheated on, the woman he never loved.
"Have you all gone insane?" He asked.
"A fair question," his father retorted.
"I cheated on her," Gomez said firmly."I am in love with another woman, and you think all we need to do is snap our fingers and things would return to how they were? It will all be forgotten?"
"You got a lot of nerve to speak to me like that," Harald hissed, taking a few steps towards him.
"What do you want me to say?"
"You broke Ophelia's heart," Harald pointed out, his tone openly accusatory."And you're breaking your mother's heart… again. But it doesn't mean anything to you, does it? All that matters to you is that bloody woman."
Gomez swallowed heavily.
"I never wanted to hurt Ophelia... or Mama, - "
"I'm so damn tired of this attitude of yours," Harald retorted angrily before continuing in a condescending manner, his words coming out in a sharp, angry hiss," you never wanted to hurt Fester, you never wanted to hurt your mother, you never wanted to hurt anyone, but that's all you do every single bloody time. And now what? Of all the women you could have gone for it had to be the one involved with your cousin, and your wife's sister, no less? Have you no shame?"
"I didn't choose to fall in love with her," Gomez replied, unable to retract the defensive note in his tone."It just happened."
"Nothing just happens, Gomez," his father pressed on.
But it did, Gomez thought. How could he explain it? How could he explain casting one look at Morticia the night of his cousin's funeral and the feeling of being struck by lightning, that it was fate, a kismet of souls and he knew at that very moment, that he'd love her forever, that there would never be any other woman in his life but her.
But the words didn't pass his lips, he couldn't explain it because he knew his father would not understand. He would not understand something so violently illogical, something so cliche as love at first sight.
"Tell me, what the hell is wrong with you?" His father went on."Where does it all come from? Are you really such a bastard? What is it? Tell me, why the hell you're so inclined to make everyone around you miserable?"
Gomez swallowed heavily, his chest so constricted it was getting hard to breathe, his hands felt suddenly clammy and he wanted nothing more than to flee, to get away, to run away from his actions and the consequences, and most of all from the heartbreak he inflicted on the ones he loved most.
"What I've done to Fester was despicable," he said instead, his voice quiet and hoarse."I was jealous, and I was insecure and I broke his heart, I know that. I can never repent for it. But I love Morticia, and what I've done… it's still despicable, but I never wanted to hurt Ophelia, or Vlad, let alone Mama, I didn't do it out of spite. I really love her."
His father only snorted sardonically.
"I see you two play the same tune," Harald observed condescendingly. "She also quoted love as a driving force behind the destruction you're causing. You're both selfish beyond any stretch of the imagination. "
Gomez blinked, taken aback as the realization dawned on him.
"You talked to Morticia," Gomez said, and couldn't quite prevent the wave of anger that washed over him. "You had no right - "
"I had every damn right," his father interjected sharply." If you want to ruin your family for the harlot who seduced her sister's husband then I have every right to prevent it!"
"Why are you all so inclined to put all the blame on her?" Gomez asked indignantly." I made my own decisions and she made hers, but I swear to God if you call her anything derogatory again I can't promise not to punch you in the face… father."
He saw his father's jaw set angrily as he took a few more steps towards him, until they were just a breath away from each other.
"The only reason I never beat that insolent behaviour out of you is that it would upset your mother," Harald retorted." But maybe I should have. Maybe that's what you needed all along."
"Oh, absolutely, go ahead," Gomez replied smoothly. "That would be the coronation of your parenting skills."
"Oh, so it's my fault then?" Harald sneered."Is that what you're going to say? That you didn't get enough love and affection? That you're such a despicable bastard because I didn't pat you on the head and said 'atta boy, Gomez? Your brother - "
"Don't," Gomez interjected sharply."I'm not my brother, I'm not Fester but you could never get it, could you? Nor you could ever understand, that your sons were not your toy soldiers to order around."
"Oh, wonderful, just lay the blame at my door," Harald retorted sarcastically, shaking his head in disbelief."It's always the same story with you. You had every opportunity and the privilege anyone could dream of, but it was never enough for you - "
"It was never enough for you," Gomez interjected sharply." Nothing I have ever done was good enough for you," he went on." Why can't you be more like your brother, Gomez? Why can't you just sit still, Gomez? Focus, Gomez. Sounds familiar? Should I go on?"
"It's just easy, isn't it?" Harald replied through gritted teeth."It's always everyone else's fault, never yours. I tell you what's my fault here, I should have pushed you harder, and should have disciplined you as I saw fit, instead of giving in to your mother's incessant indulgence of you, " he went on angrily," and let me tell you the same thing I told that bloody woman you're having an affair with, if you leave your wife for her, if you leave Ophelia, I promise you - I swear to you, you will no longer be my son."
Gomez bit his lips so hard he was sure they'd bleed, marvelling at how much it hurt, how much it still hurt and he felt suddenly exhausted, bone-weary exhaustion. He felt himself nod mutely, and watched his father blink, as if taken aback.
"I guess," Gomez breathed out, shaking his head and his lips curled into a completely mirthless smile." It's a goodbye, then."
Ever since she remembered, Morticia loved long walks, really really long walks. During the time she lived in Berlin, she got to know the city almost intimately, because of the frequent and lengthy walks she fancied and Klaus always moaned about but he indulged her nevertheless.
It seemed almost a lifetime ago, or even a completely different life altogether, even though it's been merely a few months. All those weeks ago she still lived in Berlin, a little miserable but not altogether unhappy, blissfully unaware of what a complete lie she was living. Well, perhaps not a complete lie, that was a bit overdramatic, she really needed to stop pitying herself.
She didn't know what time it was, or how long she was walking except that it was getting progressively colder and she was freezing and she was still a few blocks away from the apartment. Just enough time to continue to wallow in self-pity.
Part of her desperately wanted to know the whole truth, find out everything there was to know about the woman - her mother. And yet, she was almost acutely aware that she was nowhere near ready for that, that her emotions were too raw and too vulnerable, that she could not possibly see over her pain yet, over the betrayal and her heartbreak. Perhaps getting away was really the best thing they could do right now. Not that they had an abundance of other options but staying in the city, or even the country felt to her impossible and suffocating.
Leaving all the things behind was scary, undoubtedly, because they weren't just leaving, they were essentially burning all the bridges behind them. There would be just the two of them, they had to build their relationship, their new life together, separated from their families, it was a scary prospect but she found herself looking forward to it, she wanted to make this work, she could not imagine anyone else to spend the rest of her life with than Gomez Addams.
She only wished, desperately so, that their relationship wasn't tainted with so much heartbreak.
They would be leaving in five days, and the date seemed simultaneously too close and agonisingly too far away. Gomez was anxious to speak to his mother before he left -
She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the man, sitting on the bench near her apartment block and almost cursed out loud, silently debating if she should just go upstairs and leave him there but then almost immediately decided against it. Unpleasant as the prospect of talking to her father was, they might as well get it over and done with.
She wrapped her cloak tighter around her and took a few slow steps towards him, and he seemed to sense her presence almost instantly.
He darted to his feet, startled, dropping his cigar into the snow.
"Can we talk?" He asked haphazardly in a manner of greetings.
She shrugged.
"Talk," she replied dully, wrapping her arms around herself.
He nodded, pressing his lips together into a thin line before motioning towards the bench.
"Would you like to sit down?" He offered.
She regarded him a little incredulously, before letting out another careless shrug but sat down and watched him do the same.
She expected to feel angry at him and she supposed she did but it was a different anger from two days ago, a dull ache settled so deep into her bones that it was as much part of her as any cell in her body. She didn't suppose he expected to lash out at him, she'd never do that. She wasn't Ophelia.
Her grandmother always told her that Ophelia's anger was better, it was safer because she lashed out almost immediately, yes, it was fierce and violent but at least she let it out, whereas Morticia's anger always worried her, it was deep and silent, she refused to give it to anger and buried it deep in her heart and it stayed in there, always part of her.
"I can only imagine what Ophelia told you," her father remarked cautiously, his gaze shifting to everywhere but her." But I want you to know that your mother - Hester wasn't… she wasn't…
"A whore?" Morticia supplied drily, but continued in a firm tone."It wouldn't bother me even if she were."
James swallowed heavily, resting his elbow on his knees, finally turning to look at her.
"I'm sorry you found out this way," he breathed out heavily.
"I think you're sorry I found out at all," she replied.
"I wanted to tell you - "
"I think at this point, we can all stop lying to each other," Morticia interjected frostily."Say what you came here to say but if came here to lie to me again, you might as well leave now."
He fell silent, immediately chastised and closed his eyes, pressing his lips together.
"I wanted to tell you the truth, you don't know how many times I wanted to tell you, " he assured in a desperate tone.
"Why didn't you?"
"I was afraid you'd hate me," he whispered." That you'd never forgive me."
He swallowed heavily, and when Morticia didn't say anything he continued,
"She died in labour, you mother."
"I know," Morticia replied sourly before continuing smoothly," I know they were friends, she and Laura, and you had an affair with her. She died in labour and you decided to give your bastard child to your wife to raise, the woman you've cheated on, which if you ask me, was in really poor taste. Did I miss anything?"
"You don't understand - "
"No," she interjected, irked by the defensive tone in his voice."No, I don't. I don't understand why did I have to grow up with a firm belief that my mother hated me when she was never even my mother. And you all knew that, and you let me believe my own mother hated me."
"She doesn't hate you," James assured firmly."You don't understand, she tried, she really tried -
"Oh, please," Morticia exhaled in disdain, letting out a disbelieved chuckle."What did she try exactly? To show me how little I mattered? She succeeded masterly at the task, let me assure you."
"Don't make assumptions about her," he defended."She tried her best."
She felt the sudden wave of anger, so acute it momentarily took her breath away, and her eyes filled with angry tears.
"I don't think this conversation is a good idea, after all," she said, rising to stand.
"Morticia, wait - " he immediately stood up as well."I'm sorry - "
"No," she shook her head."If you came here to lie and make excuses… then leave. I've had enough of it."
"This is why I was always afraid to tell you - " he breathed out."You would never understand, you can't understand. "
She frowned, glaring at him.
"What do you expect from me?" She finally asked." Pity?"
"No -"
"Then what? You all lied to me, all my life," she pointed out, trying to keep her tears at bay."And even now, all you have to offer are excuses and half-truths."
He looked away briefly, blinking rapidly and run his hand through his hair in an abrupt, jerky motion.
"Laura blames me for her death," he said, all of a sudden, his voice hoarse."She never forgave me. And I can't stand the thought that you too might never forgive me."
She frowned, surprised by his words.
"And you?" She asked." Do you blame yourself?"
"Every day," he admitted."That's why I never told you. I couldn't bear the thought that you'd blame me too, that you could hate me."
"I would have never blamed you," she assure, her tone softer now, if only just so."But you had no right to lie to me."
"You would have blamed me," he replied, more sharply than he intended."And you'd be right. Because I was a coward, I didn't have the guts to tell you. I didn't want you to know that when she told me she was pregnant… I panicked, I panicked and - "
"You didn't want her to have your child?" She guessed.
He looked at her with such a startling pain and anguish, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"I was a despicable bastard to her," he said instead."But I always loved you, Morticia, you must never doubt that. I love you, and I'm sorry I couldn't be a better father to you, I'm sorry I could give you a home you deserved."
She watched him wordlessly, watching the image of him, the illusions of him dissolve and fall apart, realising that he too was a lie, just like everything else.
"I know how much I've hurt you," he admitted forlornly. "But please… don't punish your sister for my sins," he whispered.
She felt as if he struck her, and almost took a step back.
"Punish her?" She echoed in disbelief."Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"Don't ruin her marriage," he reinforced."It's my fault, I know that... I should have told her, I should have explained but, darling, I beg you, don't punish her for something that's not her fault."
She was momentarily lost for words. Did he really believe it? Did he really think that she seduced Gomez to make them all miserable? Is that what he thought of her?
"I never really noticed before," she replied quietly, pausing for a few seconds before clarifying," how alike you really are, you and Ophelia. Do you really think everything is always about you?"
He didn't seem to mind her outburst, his gaze on her was soft and pleading, and she could barely stand it.
"I understand how you feel," he told her.
"Do you?" She asked mockingly."By all means, tell me how I feel."
"I understand," he whispered insistently." Perhaps better than anyone. You think you're in love but you're not, this isn't love, it's an illusion. This relationship won't last."
"But their marriage will?" She retorted.
He didn't reply, as if unsure where this was going.
"Everyone acts as if I'm the sole agency that pushed them apart," Morticia went on." As if they were madly in love before I turned up - and I'm not trying to excuse myself, I know what I've done, I am the catalyst that ended their marriage, I realize the weight of it, and I will live with it the rest of my life but I'm not the sole reason that marriage fell apart."
"You can't build a relationship on betrayal, Tish," he insisted. "It will haunt you, it will destroy you."
"Then it will be a fitting payment for my actions, won't it?" She replied testily.
"Tish - "
"I fell in love with a married man, with my sister's husband," she went on. "I can't undo it."
"That's not an excuse."
"I'm not saying it is," she countered."But that's what is at the core of it, not menace, not revenge, but love. It's our misfortune that Gomez is married to my sister but is prolonging this marriage really the best course of action?"
"And ruining their marriage is?" He asked, looking at her intently, and then breathed out heavily. "You can't do this to her, Tish. This is not the way."
"I don't know what to tell you," she admitted, swallowing heavily, wiping the tears away."I don't see how we can all move on from this."
"Don't say that - " he begged."Please - "
Morticia shook her head.
"It's a hard thing to come to terms with the fact that your love for me was driven by nothing else but guilt over her death - "
"That's not true," he interjected.
"How can we all heal from all those lies?" She continued, looking at him hopelessly." How can you heal a heart that's shattered?"
He looked at her pleadingly but said nothing.
"We're going to leave," she told him, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
He looked at her in disbelief, as if such an option never crossed his mind.
"Leave?" He repeated."Where?"
"Europe," she replied vaguely, and took a small step back, eager to put a distance between them. "If you don't mind, tell Granny I shall write to her… at some point."
"Don't do this," he pleaded, closing his eyes."Please, let me explain, let me… don't leave, I'm so sorry - "
Morticia watched him wordlessly.
She looked at him, her father, the man she once absolutely adored, a broken man and she wished to feel something, anything. She wished she could tell him that they'd get through this, that they were a family and families survived worse things, that love was all that mattered. It will get better, they simply needed time to heal. Yes, they all needed time. They were family, and they loved each other.
But the words felt hollow in her heart. They were not a family, they were nothing more than a cluster of broken parts of lies and betrayals patched together by guilt. That's all they were.
That's all they'll ever be.