Chapter 17
Agatha wondered if she was being incredibly naïve. Jen was right. She should be more careful because wasn’t this exactly how it had played out last time? A shy girl who grew up with no access to the internet and therefore didn’t know who she was, who appeared to have no interest in her apart from mutual attraction until she finally revealed her cards.
Didn’t that just happen with Rio? Clearly Agatha had a type.
Agatha had met Wanda during her first week at Columbia. It was clear by the way she marvelled at the campus that this was the first time she’d visited, and then it was clear why when she spoke. Her accent was thick, Eastern European, Sokovian. And this was her first time in America.
That had been it. One conversation outside of a lecture hall that Agatha barely remembered because she was half asleep and hungover after being at some frat party the night before. She’d pass Wanda occasionally around campus or in halls but unlike everyone else at Columbia, Wanda wouldn’t stop and stare at her, wasn’t desperate to make an effort to befriend her. She acted like Agatha was invisible. It was somewhat…refreshing? She wasn’t sure.
The only people who ignored her were her parents, but Wanda’s intent didn’t seem malicious like her mother’s or due to being too busy for her like her father. Wanda was ignoring her because Agatha was simply another human being to her. Not the ‘Spectacle off-spring,’ or ‘The Princess of the Upper East Side.’
To Wanda, Agatha was simply…ordinary.
Three years post Columbia, twenty-four-year-old Agatha was doing something stupid like crying in an alleyway in Brooklyn. Agatha had become a fast climbing agent, her skills undeniable to anyone after her repeated display of dead shots. But her mother had found her, of course she had after she’d switched her last name to her maiden. Or maybe her father had ratted her out, broken his promise to never reveal where she’d run off to after she left college. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d betrayed her trust.
Sometimes Agatha couldn’t help but hate him. He’d gone through all the effort to help her disappear, help her get into the FBI when she was advised against it because of who she was, but he always caved when it came to his wife. That’s how Agatha had ended up in conversion therapy, troubled teens summer camps, catholic private school when he had planned for her to go to the same school he had.
That’s when Agatha knew the fairytales lied. The man did not save the girl, the girl had to save herself.
Agatha was crying because her mother had said the usual. It was only affecting her so much more today because she hadn’t been prepared for the ambush. You were born evil. I should’ve killed you the moment you left my body. You are a vile slut. Your sexual deviance will be your demise. You deserve nothing good. The fact you can’t keep your legs closed illustrates how much of a pathetic excuse of a human you are, sex is all you can offer to another.
The thoughts were so loud, so bitter, so true.
Agatha thought she might die. She couldn’t breathe. She’d slid down the side of the wall with her knees to her chest and her hands pressed to her face waiting for the devil to snatch her soul from her body when hands rested on her kneecaps. Agatha looked up and was met with deep green.
“Agatha,” Wanda whispered. Her thick accent was gone. “You can’t be here by yourself it isn’t safe.”
Agatha stared at her. Was she dead? Had she somehow made it to heaven and her guardian angel was this girl who she’d always found pretty but never properly spoke to?
“Are you real?” Was all Agatha could manage.
Wanda smiled. “Yes.”
“How…?” she sniffed, “How did you know it was me?”
“I think I’d recognise you anywhere,” Wanda quietly admitted.
Agatha blinked at her and Wanda sucked in a short breath.
“I meant what I said, you can’t stay here.”
She lifted Agatha onto her feet, ready to pull her out of the alleyway when Agatha hugged her. And no, she didn’t think before she did it. She just really needed a fucking hug, and Wanda was there, and she’d smiled at her, and she was so warm.
Wanda squeezed her tightly, rubbing her back as Agatha’s tears racked through her.
They stayed like that for ten minutes until Wanda pulled back, laced her fingers with Agatha’s and tugged her back onto the street. She’d taken Agatha to her apartment, wrapped her in blankets, made her tea and played with her hair until she fell asleep.
Wanda wouldn’t ask what she’d been crying about until months later.
***
Rio felt good.
She’d just sat and yapped with her former best friend now friend again for the better part of four hours like no time had passed between them, like it hadn’t been sixteen years since they’d last seen each other face to face. And she was now on her way to confess her feelings to her fake wife…no just wife…no…wait…?
She was making her way back to the subway when her eyes snagged onto something she hadn’t noticed in years.
And all of a sudden, she was twenty-four again, and this was the most confusing day of her life:
Rio was about to leave her favourite café. Her Abuela had texted her about needing more cinnamon because she was making Tres leches, and if Rio could buy some on the way over.
That’s when someone slid into the booth opposite her. She looked up from her phone, her face scrunched in confusion until she realised who she was staring at.
“Papá?” Rio asked before she had the chance to snatch the word as it left her mouth.
“Hola, mi hija.”
Rio blinked at him. Why? What? Huh?
She hadn’t seen her father in nineteen years and now here he was, popping up completely out of the blue? Yeah, fuck that and him.
“No,” Rio said before she slid out of the booth and stormed off towards the door.
“Rio. Hija, por favor,” Rio’s dad said as he followed her out of the café.
Diego had grabbed his daughter’s arm to stop her, and Rio had snatched it free.
“Leave me alone. I don’t want to see you,” Rio gritted out.
“I know but-”
Rio cut him off. “What you thought you could just leave me? Toss me aside as if I were nothing when mami died? As if I were worthless, nothing more than an inconvenience,” her voice cracked, and she wasn’t sure she was making any sense, but she’d been holding all of this in for almost two decades now. “And then you just show up out of the blue? For what? What the fuck do you want?!”
Diego stared at her, regret in his eyes and Rio wanted to fucking smack him. He didn’t get to do that, feel regret. He was the one who left, who orphaned her, who made her grieve alone when her mother died.
His voice was soft when he said. “I need you to protect yourself, mija. You need to find a new job, they are-”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t just show up and start dictating my life! You haven’t been fucking in it!”
Her father’s face hardened, his voice taking on an urgent edge. “I know I don’t have the right, but I need you to listen to me.” He reached for Rio’s hands and squeezed firmly so she was forced to look at him. “You must learn to fight, to be strong, to protect yourself. You cannot continue your work with plants you must join the police force, or the FBI, or the CIA, or something. I cannot tell you why, but if you are ever to listen to a thing I say, let it be this. Please,” Diego pleaded.
Rio stared at him; her facial expression unreadable as she tried to fight off the tears pressing in her eyes. How did he know she worked with plants?
Her father’s eyes travelled along her face. His lips twisted into a small smile. “Eres tan hermoso. Te pareces a tu mami.” You are so beautiful. You look just like your mom.
“Fuck you,” Rio squeaked because how dare he say that to her when that was the reason he left.
Diego nodded. “Adiós, mi amor.”
And then he’d left her again.
Rio ran to the to the closest alleyway and sobbed. What was her father talking about? Protect herself? Why and from who? She loved her job as a taxonomist, would she give that up now simply because of something her absent father had said? Rio didn’t trust that man for as far as she could throw him, but there was something about the way he spoke…so vulnerable, so desperate, so concerned.
Rio leaned her head back, letting it rest on the wall behind her and inhaled. She blinked. The air was filled with a scent she couldn’t quite name. It smelt like power and…and…two other words she couldn’t put her finger on. Rio stood up straight and inhaled again, deeper this time. The fragrance calmed her, stilled her tears.
She wiped her eyes and solidified a plan.
Rio was going to join the FBI.
Staring at the same alleyway where she’d decided to alter her entire course of life now was surreal because her life had changed course again. Even more drastically this time. Rio needed to stop assuming she knew where her life was going at this point.
***
Agatha heard the key turn in the lock from the living room. Jen had left half an hour ago and she’d showered and changed out of her pyjamas, replacing them with sweatpants and a plain white tee.
Maybe she was being naïve with Rio, but where she’d felt ignored with Wanda she felt seen with Rio. Not ordinary, not the spectacle off-spring, appreciated for who she was entirely. That Agatha simply being was everything to Rio.
Not exploring that…well that would just be stupid. And Agatha Harkness was many things, stupid not one of them.
The door opened and closed, and Rio appeared in the living room. She smiled like she’d been waiting all day for this moment.
“Hi,” Rio said softly.
Agatha smiled. An overwhelming feeling of pure and utter happiness overcame her, and she found herself wanting to tear up. Luckily, she didn’t.
“Good morning.”
“Afternoon,” Rio corrected as she took off her UGGs and sat on the other side of the couch.
Agatha wished she hadn’t. Why couldn’t she sit closer? On top of her even.
Okay…so where to start? How does one admit to their fake wife they have feelings for them? And once you do, then what? They were already married. Did they go on dates, become girlfriends and then get married again but for real this time? How the hell did any of this work?
You know what, fuck it. I’ll figure it out later. I’m just going to tell her.
“I have feelings for you.”
“I think about you all the time,” Rio said at the same time Agatha did.
A smile flew onto Agatha’s lips.
“Do you now?”
Rio shook her head playfully. “Shut up.”
“Does this mean you have feelings for me too?”
“Well, what else would it mean?”
Agatha nodded, her wide smile still on her lips. “I know but I need to hear you say it.”
“You love to make things difficult, don’t you?” Rio scoffed.
“Of course,” Agatha said matter of factly.
Rio rolled her eyes before she said. “I have feelings for you, Agatha Harkness. Are you satisfied now?”
“Almost, could you say that again? I need to record it.”
Rio laughed, preparing to scold her wife when Agatha tugged her arm, pulling her across the couch and crashing her lips with hers.
Rio’s laughter died out as she relaxed into the kiss.
She tasted just as good as she did yesterday, and Agatha was content with never kissing another woman again.
“Wait,” Rio said, breaking away from her. “If we do this, we have to start being honest with each other, communicating.”
Agatha pretended to contemplate her request. “Hmm, I don’t know. I was hoping we would just make out, occasionally talk, but hardly ever.”
Rio rolled her eyes and Agatha turned serious.
“No, yeah. I’ll be honest with you, promise.”
Her wife smiled a proper smile that reached her eyes. “Good.”
Rio snaked her hand up Agatha’s neck and dragged her lips back down to hers.