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Maybe this was a mistake. After all, it had been a long time since summer camp and being pen-pals afterwards did not quite carry the same weight that spending physical time together did even if it was almost a full decade of writing and, well, when you added up all of the time they had spent in the same actual room together… He had fish that lived longer than that, to be honest.
He swallowed hard and jammed his hand into the pocket of his sport coat, feeling the familiar plastic shape of his inhaler there. He rarely used it anymore and knew the effect stood more as a psychological placebo but you never knew. He gave it a quick squeeze, felt the reassurance in the motion, and drew his hand back out to adjust his tie for the twentieth time. Maybe he should have gone with a normal tie but the bow tie had seemed more apropos. He remembered her dad wearing one every time he visited so that probably explained the urge.
But they were stupid fiddly things and he suspected that he lacked whatever confidence Mr. Gomez possessed that made the style work effortlessly.
As he approached the ornate front gate, rust drifting lazily from it like red confetti as it gave an anticipatory shudder, Joel Glicker realized that pretty much everything the Addams family did seemed to work effortlessly. There was just some sort of innate knowledge in each of them when left to be themselves that led them to be, well, themselves. Reading the letters over the years, his wonder grew at the forthright way Wednesday was so very thoroughly herself. When she told him about events that others would view as bullying or upsetting, the words held nothing but matter-of-fact tones and traces of wry amusement. His wonder and his jealousy. He almost never knew where he fit into the world, walking around and looking for a Joel-shaped hole. Honor society, more or less. Debate team, not a chance. Math club, kind of. But Wednesday? She and her brother and the rest of their family never seemed to look for those magic holes; they just walked right into them, creating their place with a force of self-knowledge that made him want to peel open their brains to find it.
A creepy thought. He filed it away to share with Wednesday later, knowing she would be happy to discuss scalpels versus bone saws on the topic.
He hesitated for an instant and then raised his hand to push at the gate. It made a fearful clanking sound at the touch of his fingertips but the noise must have been a happy one because Gate swung open at the merest pressure. More rusty confetti fell from it as it squeaked its hinges at him. Like an eager puppy, Joel thought briefly and he smiled reflexively at Gate. “Uh, thanks. Thank you,” he murmured as he slipped through the opening.
Manners were important. He might as well show them to the landscape, too, whenever he got the chance. Especially here at the Addams’ home.
Taking another steadying breath, Joel trudged up the pathway to the imposingly grey and gothic house, gravel scattering at each step in tiny landslides. Before he could knock, the door creaked open and Lurch greeted him with a low rumble. He was expected. He studied Lurch’s long face as he edged past him into the house, finally deciding that there was a tiny upward angle at the corners of the butler’s mouth. A good sign. He looked around the spacious foyer and felt a physical wave of comfort in the familiarity of everything. It looked exactly the same as it had last time - four years ago during Wednesday’s high school graduation party.
“Joel!”
His head snapped around and up to look towards the wide stairs at the echoing, jovial shout and his neck protested the sudden movement. Startle reaction, he chided himself, better stop that. Before he could think any further, Gomez had sprinted down the stairs and was pumping his right hand vigorously while patting his shoulder with his free left hand. When he felt the weight of another hand on his left shoulder, Joel swallowed another tiny noise and turned his head to nod at Thing and smile. He always secretly regarded Thing as one of the better kinds of pet - smart, creative, responsive, and completely allergy-friendly. The disembodied hand gave a gleeful shiver at the recognition, then hopped down again and went skittering across the foyer and into the sitting room.
“My boy, my boy!” Gomez beamed. “We’re so glad you could come! We weren’t sure you would be able to make it. All the way from California, too. Can they spare you from Stanford?”
“Uh, sure.” Joel felt the usual overwhelming urge to blush and stutter under the overflowing pride in Gomez’s voice but he controlled it by smiling and squeezing the hand still gripping his. “I’m just another medical student, Mr. Gomez,” he said for what he calculated would be the first of many times this weekend.
“Bah, you’re too modest. Wednesday showed us a copy of your paper on the history of leprosy. It was inspired! So detailed and comprehensive.” Gomez finally released Joel’s hand and stepped back, his hands moving up to hook his thumbs absently behind his lapels. The beam continued, warm and all-encompassing. “To think something once so pervasive is all but endangered today. Of course, us Addamses do our best to keep a strain alive but you know how these things go. They just fall off.”
As usual, Gomez seemed oblivious to the pun and Joel controlled himself enough to nod understandingly. Then he let his gaze wander towards the archway which he knew led to the sitting room. “Has, uh, anyone else arrived yet?”
“Not tonight yet. Wednesday asked us to keep tonight’s dinner small. She’s come to dislike crowds more than ever, it seems.” Gomez made the smallest of shrugs, a completely laissez faire acceptance of his daughter’s preferences. “Cousin Itt and Margaret are here, though, with Whatt.”
“Gomez, are you monopolizing our dear Joel?” Morticia appeared at her husband’s elbow, silent as a shadow, and offered a crimson-lipped smile to Joel. It felt like a reward for his refusal to start at her sudden intrusion. “It’s very rude to keep a guest standing in the hallway. Come, Joel.” She motioned with one slim pale hand. “Join us. Mama has made her special punch. She remembered your reaction to henbane, though, and spent the morning experimenting. Did you know that cilantro in the right hands can mimic the same tingle? Neither did we. It was quite a stimulating discovery.”
He was deeply touched. They paid attention. It was just another reason why the Addams family meant so much to him over the years. When your own blood relations forgot things like your extreme lactose intolerance until the moment you rushed to the bathroom and locked yourself in, it felt refreshing… and a little bit alien. He smiled. “I bet it tastes fantastic, Mrs. Addams. I can’t wait to try it.”
Her smile felt like a reward and he instinctively offered his arm to escort her into the sitting room. Gomez trailed behind, beaming from ear to ear. “Tish, be careful,” he chortled. “Mr. Glicker will steal you away from me.”
“Oh, mon chere. Don’t be silly. Wednesday would commit matricide. A very respectable old family tradition but so very unnecessary in this case.” Laughter shaded Morticia’s mild reproach and Joel felt his cheeks warm. Before he could answer, cheerful shouts greeted their entrance and he looked around at the smiles (or, in the case of Cousin Itt, the implication of a smile). Morticia briefly touched his shoulder with one pale hand, a gesture that doubled as reassurance and insistence. He took the hint wordlessly and walked through the archway.
Four years but it felt like nothing and he wondered why he had ever been nervous when he stood outside. Gomez had been right; it was a small group but it felt perfectly right. Joel shamelessly spent the first moments staring at Wednesday as she stood near the fireplace, talking to Uncle Fester. She looked timeless, all pale and dark and aloof. Her fashion sense had grown from the severe school-girl dresses but stopped short at anything approaching her mother’s body-hugging couture. The black fabric remained in the tailored pantsuit and the long braids, too, now coiled around her head like a coronet. A slight lift to one of her eyebrows signaled amusement at something her uncle said and he smiled reflexively to himself.
“Here you go, lover boy!” With a joy-filled cackle, Grandmama pushed a cup of her punch into his hand and interrupted his thoughts. The contents sloshed over the crackle glass rim and he felt a drop of tiny, passing fire on his skin where a drop hit. Still he lifted it to his mouth and drank obediently as the old woman watched. He coughed once, explosively.
Covering his mouth with his free hand, Joel swallowed hard as he did an internal calibration on his vitals. The henbane reaction was too fresh a memory. No stutters to the heart, no swelling of tongue or throat, breathing resumed as soon as the cough cleared the airways. He frowned slightly behind his hand. Maybe the slightest bit of tingling to his lips but nothing that spoke of danger. He lowered his hand. He smiled. “It’s great, ma’am,” he assured her. “Thank you for making it. Mrs. Addams said you experimented with the recipe after last time?”
“Sure did.” She hooted, meeting his smile with her own gummy one. She lifted her own cup in a salute to him. “Can’t have you turning those colors again. Wednesday hates the color puce.” She cackled again, nodded, and shuffled off to urge more of her brew on the other guests.
“I do.” Joel turned his head quickly at the low assertion at his right elbow and tried not to fumble his cup as Wednesday smiled faintly up at him. “And it would make you look awful,” she added. She paused, head tipped slightly to one side as she studied him and he held still, watching her back. Finally she nodded. “But you look good now. California hasn’t burned you to a crisp.”
“Sunblock and staying indoors.” He tried to roll with the warm feeling her compliment brought and suppressed a smile by giving a little shrug. “I spend a lot of time studying, anyway,” he admitted. “And Northern California isn’t as sunny as the lower half.”
“Thank you for writing me so many letters.”
“Oh. Yeah. Well…” He relinquished his pride and let the crooked smile quirk his lips. “I like writing to you and I like getting letters back. Getting mail is always nice.” He laughed a bit. “Mail that isn’t a box of homemade gluten-free, lactose-free, taste-free granola from Mom is more than great.”
Wednesday regarded him solemnly, dark eyes searching. “You haven’t died yet.”
“I guess that’s good, right?” He hoped, anyway. It would be nice to be reassured that she liked him enough to be pleased of his continuing liveliness.
“Very good.” She reached out and took his cup from his unresisting fingers. She sniffed the contents, nodded, and turned to set it on a nearby table. Facing him again, she pressed two fingers to the side of his jaw and exerted just enough pressure until he obediently tilted his head. “It was important for you to be here for my party. I wanted you here.” Effortless, she raised herself up onto the balls of her feet and brushed a kiss over his cheek. Her lips were cool and dry and almost tickled his skin. As she sank back to her previous posture and brought her hand away from his face, she gave him a sly little smile. “We’ll talk at midnight, neshama sheli.”
With those words, Wednesday glided off to join her parents where they stood beneath one of many dramatically hung chandeliers in the room. Joel swallowed hard, glad the delicate glass cup had been taken from his hand. Even if the Addams clan was remarkably casual about their possessions, never worrying too much at breakage or destruction, he would have felt awful if he let it shatter on the floor when it fell.
Because he knew he most definitely would have dropped the full cup the moment Wednesday said those words to him. How and when she learned Hebrew felt second in importance in light of what she said in that language, what she called him. “My soul,” he whispered. Awe and uncertainty warred in his brain until he realized he held his breath. He pushed it out in a slow exhale. His hand strayed to his jacket pocket and his inhaler but he stopped short of reaching in to grab it. Instead he wandered over to one of the overstuffed couches and lowered himself into its dusty confines. Talking at midnight sounded important. Momentous, even. Like an assignation or something. He swallowed.
“Are you alright?”
Joel turned to see Margaret easing down to cushion beside him. A quick glance around the room placed Cousin Itt with Uncle Fester, Wednesday still with her parents, Pugsley at Lurch’s side, and Pubert and Whatt… Probably setting something on fire somewhere. He offered Margaret a crooked smile. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Grandmama’s punch?”
“Oh, no, not that. It can’t be. She took out the henbane and now it has cilantro and that is…” He trailed off in the face of Margaret’s well-meaning expression of interest. “I’m allergic to henbane,” he concluded in an undertone.
“I became allergic to certain shampoos, you know, when I was pregnant with Whatt,” she offered in blithe return, confidence for confidence. “Poor Itt had to entirely retool his product line, the poor dear. But, like he told me at the time, it’s what we do for those we love. You make the changes.”
Joel considered this for a moment, weighed it as a coded message. Then he slumped back into the couch cushion. “Are you saying Grandmama loves me?”
“We all do.” Margaret laughed.
It was a slightly fragile sound and most would have immediately thought hysteria but he thought it was fragile the way that spun sugar was and so he relaxed into it. “Everyone?” he asked hesitantly.
“Everyone. Especially one of us, you know who, but all of us in our own way.” She nodded with a firmness that would have set even his mother back a step.
Again Joel looked at her, really looked at her, squinting a bit in a way he rarely did anymore. When he had first seen Margaret at Uncle Fester’s wedding, he had stared more than was polite. She stuck out against the monotone crowd of Addamses, almost as much as the bride herself. He kept sneaking glimpses at her out of the corner of his eye because she seemed so utterly alien in her mauves and lavenders. She reminded him of his mother’s bridge partners. Then he noticed that her smile was much less brittle than theirs and more delighted. She was happy. Every look she shared with Cousin Itt or sent towards their baby bubbled over with love and contentment. As he grew older and heard stories of her life before meeting Itt, he realized that finding her place had made the difference for her. Suddenly, the world had a Margaret shaped hole and it was right there next to a five foot tall pile of hair and that was where she stepped. Stepped, stayed, and flourished.
“How do you know?”
“There are a lot of nice things you can say about the Addamses, Joel, and one of them is they don’t do things by half. When they love, they love and they really mean it when they say till death do they part.” Margaret beamed, then winked as she reached out to pat his hand. “Wednesday doesn’t say much but she invited you here tonight. You do know what tonight is, right?”
“Her college graduation party.”
Margaret nodded but her expression hinted at something exciting. He itched to ask but bit his tongue and waited. “Her future,” she finally said. When he just blinked, she covered her mouth and stifled another friendly giggle. “I see. In all of her letters, she didn’t say a word about her future?”
“Well, sure. I guess.” He resisted the urge to send another sideways glance across the room at Wednesday. “She’s not going to grad school or anything. No internships either. She kinda said something about the family business and digging in.”
“Digging in? Settling down, maybe?”
He felt his cheeks warm at the implication. “Maybe.”
“Oh, Joel. Please don’t worry about it. You have nothing to worry about, really.” Margaret reached for his hand again and squeezed. “Let’s just say she’s been asking about how strong sunscreen can get. But, seriously, honestly… Joel, being part of this family, being invited in and welcomed and given this gift of belonging… You never forget the moment. Treasure it.” She gave his hand one more squeeze and released him with a broad smile. “And call me if you need the new recruit’s starter guide. We weirdos need to stick together.”
With that, she stood and drifted off across the room to her husband. Joel watched her snuggle into Cousin Itt’s side, giving no notice to the way his hair reached out in static cling to grab onto her long lavender skirt. Sticking together. Did she mean…
He shifted his gaze back towards Wednesday to find her staring at him over her mother’s shoulder. Her dark eyes shone and her face held no expression until, quite suddenly, she flashed the slightest smile. His heart skipped.
Well, what did you know…