Wednesday's Week

A woeful Reunion

Unlike the first time I ran away from Weem's chosen therapists, I was far less tactful. And I truly did just run.

"Wednesday, come back!" Weems yelled at me as I slid down the stair cases banister. She would be able to follow me anywhere so I had to go somewhere she wouldn't guess. My boots threw up clods of dirt as I ran outside.

Not the Bee Shack. Not Crackstone's crypt where I could put Tyler at risk of being found. No, if Vincent Thorpe wanted to find me, he'd have to talk to his son.

Xavier had his art shed unlocked which meant he was inside. I didn't wait to knock, instead throwing it open and closing quickly behind me. He was faced away from me, staring up at a big canvas. It was a woman. Her brown hair was pulled in lose ponytail that sat over her shoulder. She was smiling down at Xavier.

"Your father is here," I interrupted.

Xavier pulled away from the canvas, startled. He had clearly been enraptured. Even though I had no inkling of who that woman was, he seemed embarrassed. He turned the canvas around, "Wednesday, what did I say about boundaries- wait did you say-"

"Your father, renown psychic is here to give me a psych evaluation," I explained.

He scoffed and ran his paint dried hands over the back of his head, "I can't believe this. He's never showed up here for me ever. And now, this?"

"Who's the painting of?" I asked instead, my anger subsiding into curiosity.

Xavier looked back, "I don't owe you that."

"But you are going to tell me anyways," I stated.

He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. He opened it again, "It's my mother."

I moved around him and turned over the painting to truly look at it. She had his nose and the upquirk of his eyebrow. "Where is she?"

"Modeling in Japan, last time I checked," he answered truthfully. He apparently read the next questions on my face, because he continued. "She was in a skiing accident when I was seven. She completely lost her memory and she didn't know me or my father. She didn't fall for my dad again and she didn't believe I was her son."

I took in the painting, "you know there are dna tests."

"I think she knows. Maybe she even remembered. But it was a chance out. Who wouldn't take a way out from my father," he mused.

I was currently looking for a way out from his father. "I'm surprised I am learning about all of this from you and not Enid's blog."

He put the painting down on the ground and threw a tarp over it. "That is because, you, Wednesday are the first Nevermore student to hear the tragic woes of my mother."

The shack door rattled and Weems floated through it. A second later, Vincent followed. He opened the doors. "This is very tortured art," he made the comment before taking in the people.

"Thanks dad. I guess you can't talk everything out through therapy," Xavier spoke dryly, bringing his father's attention to him.

And just as I had planned, a stand off began. Weems would be forced to referee at whatever would break out in a moment. While no one was noticing, I slid out.

I needed a place to think. One where no one could speak to me or pull me into their own chaos. And so I found myself at the cemetery. I passed the newly minted gravestone. It had a pile of sea shells around it. In truth, I've rarely dealt with personal death. Nero was the only one in my life. I wasn't like Tyler with a deceased mother. I hadn't had my father run over like Lucas. Pugsly was safe and undead. What would it be like to watch them die?

An uprooted root tripped my foot and I stumbled. My still bruised body didn't function in time and I landed straight down. My chin slammed into the dirt. I groaned and opened my eyes.

A small gravestone was inches from my face. And it read, "Bonnie Weems." A lamb statue sat in front of it, signaling a child's death. I pulled myself up to look closer at the gravestone. Weems had a child. A baby girl. This here claimed it was dead, but I was beginning to think otherwise.

I needed Jericho hospital records. I exited the graveyard looking for a way to leave. And there is was. A bike. Thankfully totally black. I reached for it, pulling it from the rack.

Thing ran up to me. Where are we going?

"You have an assignment, Thing. What about Pugsly?"I pointed out. He was already failing at keeping an eye on him.

Thing jumped up on the bar handles, Enid has him. Well, I could trust Enid to be a great distraction. I hoped up on the bike and Thing steadied himself on the center of the handle. I left Nevermore.

The dirt road was rough to bike on with the combination of my long uniform skirt. Instead I stood up on the pedals and trekked all the way back to the main road.

Sitting down on the awkward bike seat was a relief as my legs burned. The road to Jericho was uncovered and had little places to hide unless I chose to off-road it into the woods. And I did not.

When I reached Jericho, I had a new appreciation for how last semester I could just have Tyler drive me anywhere. I discarded the bike in a bush behind a building and entered town square.

The hospital was only a few streets down. I tried to avoid anyone of note. If the sheriff saw me, he'd report me to Weems. I passed my old therapists office. The sign was torn down and replaced by an insurance office.

Jericho was moving on. The town had an uncanny skill for plastering over a false sense of peace and community over a darker truth. As someone who had dug into its faulty past, it was eerie to walk between the pastel signs and brightly colored shops.

I entered the hospital. I had been here twice. Once for Eugene and the other with the principal for my therapist. My own injuries had been taken care of at the school's infirmary.

The people moved about slowly. Nothing was urgent today. A lady coughed in a waiting chair and a child tugged on their father's arm. It was desolate.

I stepped up to the counter and nodded and Thing. I rung the little bell and a nurse came out. "Hello, I'm here to visit my grandmother." Thing scuttled behind the desk and passed the door behind it.

"And your name is?" The cheery nursed asked. Her brown hair bobbed in its bun as she moved.

My eyes caught a small list tacked to the desk. A list of names to alert the sheriff. Amongst what I assumed were low lives and criminals, was my name. Sheriff Galpin had me blacklisted.

"Ingrid Opter," I made up. "My grandmother's name is Charlise Opter." She tapped on the computer, searching for the name.

The doors behind me opened, "Wednesday Addams, you aren't supposed to be here."