november 16th
Rio Vidal and Agatha Harkness have been legally divorced for six and a half years, soon to be seven as of the following June.
It was amicable, having cited it to their attorneys they “just drifted apart”.
Truth be told, towards the end of it Rio didn't recognize the woman she married.
They shared custody of their son, Nicholas, until he passed away unexpectedly five months after their divorce in November.
After the tiny casket was lowered into the hard, early winter ground and their friends and family left the procession, Rio reached for Agatha's hand as the mourning mothers stood over the hole in the ground and asked if they could come together on that day every year to remember him. Agatha agreed, only a silent nod, and left Rio standing alone just as their hands had touched.
So they did.
That first year they met at a coffee shop, one they would always bring their son to in Westview. They ordered two hot chocolates with a warmed blueberry scone to share, the typical order Nicky always asked for. They sat in silence, Agatha barely touching the food and drink as she looked in every direction yet never at Rio. Rio, on the other hand, couldn't take her eyes off of her ex wife, taking small bites of the scone while watching the older woman fidget in her seat.
After fifteen minutes of nothing, Agatha bid Rio farewell, buttoning the top button on her coat that she never took off. Rio, once again being left behind with the thoughts of what once was.
The second year, they planned to meet at a park. Fresh snow had fallen, not completely rare for late November in New Jersey. Rio picked out the only bench that was cleaned off, and waited for Agatha. She waited for an hour before her phone buzzed in her pocket with an empty apologetic text and that "I'll do better next year."
The third, fourth, and fifth years she tried to keep that promise. Agatha made the plans, much to Rio's surprise. Despite her busy schedule of being business partner at one of Manhattan's finest accounting firms, she worked hard to make up for her lack of showing up.
"My therapist said I needed to get my head out of my ass," she claimed, which Rio agreed but never said out loud.
They spent the time wandering the streets of Westview, stopping only to reminisce over what Nicky did at what spot and how long ago it was. Rio loved to stop at the soccer field, bringing up the same story of how Nicky scored a goal in his peewee league and how loud she yelled in excitement. Agatha had missed that game due to a meeting.
Rio never brought up that part, though.
Despite having one allocated day a year to talk to her ex wife, Rio tried to establish the connection she once had with the woman. She knew deep down that the woman she loved was still there somewhere. Agatha dressed more or less the same, never cut her hair beyond the typical length she always had, and sometimes wore her thick black rimmed glasses that she had for decades at this point. She laughed the same, her eyes lit up the same when she was excited, and she still has a secret weakness for sugary treats, same as their son.
Rio had changed her look a handful of times. Trying brighter colours, dyeing her hair blonde, anything to feel like a new person after everything. To maybe somehow move on in the same way Agatha apparently had.
Nothing took.
The sixth year anniversary was that week, now officially having lost their son for as long as they had him.
Rio pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket as she walks through the quaint New Jersey town, opening her hibernating text thread with her ex wife, and begins typing.
"What's the plan this year, boss?" she sends off and tucks her phone back into her pocket.
She doesn't expect the immediate reply.
Nearly stopping in her tracks she takes the phone back out and quickly opens the message.
"I’m thinking of dinner at yours, if you'll have me?"
She blinks twice before rereading the words on her smartphone screen.
"If that's too personal, I understand. I figured I should cook that bolognese he liked so much, and my apartment is too cramped to really cook anyway." Agatha says with the follow up message.
A horn jolts her out of her head as Rio looks up from her phone, realizing she was standing in the middle of a crosswalk. She waves an apology to the befuddled man behind the wheel as she scurries back to the sidewalk.
"I'm fine with that, what time? I need to clean."
The anniversary was two days away, falling on a Friday this year.
"I'll be over after work, so 7? Again, if that's okay with you."
Agatha Harkness coming back to the house they shared?
After quickly agreeing Rio could have it in the divorce proceedings?
One would think it was haunted with how immediate she gave the home over.
"Sounds good to me. Give me a heads up when you get here, but I never changed the locks so your key will still work if you have it."
Her heart clenches as she types the last part, wanting to erase it before she hits send. Foolish to admit that. She always hoped that Agatha would find her way back, come in through the front door and apologize for everything and make up for lost time. She never has and at this point, probably never would.
The response doesn't come as quickly as the others to Rio's dismay.
She finally puts her phone back in her pocket in defeat, zipping it shut, and continues on with her errands for the day.
She chews on the inside of her cheek, rereading the texts in her mind as she suddenly frowns. Agatha didn't request off for the anniversary of their son's death?
Granted from the money she got in the divorce, Rio was able to set up her own florist shop in town and not worry if she did well with it. It was always her hobby above all else before she decided to make it a job. Everyone in town knew the shop would be closed on November 18th each year.
The day goes on without much thought, auto piloting through her sparse orders and mulling over the inventory of the flower shop. Westview High School's winter formal was coming up and parents were calling throughout the week to reserve flowers for their sons and daughters. Rio always comped the families with older siblings that knew Nicky, saying any friends of her son’s are friends of hers.
Her phone never buzzed again that day, not until later in the evening once Rio locked up her shop and made her way back to the two story family home she dreamt of raising a beautiful family with her loving wife.
It's emptier, even after Alice, a long time family friend of both Rio and Agatha, begged her to let her furnish it after the divorce. Rio claimed she liked it better this way, having more room for memories than stuff.
She tosses her keys on the table by the door, pulling her long green scarf from her neck and draping it over the coat rack as she kicks her boots off.
The generic jingle of a phone call rings out as her heart drops. It loops once, twice, and a third time before she finally answers it.
She doesn't bother checking the caller ID.
"Hey," Agatha's voice fills her ear, "Sorry I was slammed all day. Do you want me to get any wine to go with the bolognese? I was thinking red."
Rio stammers, not expecting to hear her ex wife's voice, "I'm happy with whatever you want, Agatha."
Agatha hums, her smile easily heard through the phone. "Sounds good to me. Thanks for indulging me,by the way. My therapist said I need to-."
"Get your head out of your ass, yes I know," Rio cuts her off, having heard that line repeatedly, "You're already doing better about it this year than ever before. Tell her I appreciate that."
Laughing, Agatha runs her fingers through her hair, causing her laugh to briefly be muffled through the phone. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear you approve. Try not to mock me if I botch the recipe, though.”
“I can’t even remember if I’ve had your cooking,” Rio remarks, chewing on the corner of her nail as her heart pounds in her chest, “So you could just start at the bottom and work up from there.”
They're both smiling, Rio standing barefoot in the foyer of her house and Agatha leaning back in her office chair, still working. Her eyes glance to the clock, noticing how late it was as she groans.
"Sorry," Agatha cursing under her breath, the creak of her chair sounding as she stands from it and swipes her house keys from her desk, "The train is gonna leave in a couple minutes, and I don't want to wait another hour to catch the next one. But, I'll give you a call when I'm on my way over on Friday."
Rio's smile drops, "Yeah. Okay, sounds cool."
"See you then, Rio."
The call disconnects before Rio can respond. She holds the phone to her ear for a moment before she lets her hand fall.
"Bye Agatha.”
To this day, Rio will always drop everything for Agatha.
Throughout their relationship, Agatha initiated all of the "firsts". First kiss, first "i love you", first mention of marriage, she even carried Nicky. But despite Agatha claiming the firsts of many things, Rio always thought she felt it all deeper. She fell harder, she was the doting partner throughout pregnancy, cut the cord when Nicky came into the world with the healthiest set of lungs possible.
While Agatha had those firsts, Rio signed the paperwork first and served them to Agatha herself.
She tried to ask numerous times for couples therapy, that Agatha wouldn't dive further into her budding career, that she could spend time with her and their son.
She relented some days, but after a while it was the same song and dance. She would come home randomly with roses, send their son to spend the night with their neighbour Wanda's kids, and they'd try to catch up with each other in the comfort of their shared bed.
It worked for a while until it didn't.
She stayed late in the office and started to miss more of Nicky's accomplishments than she witnessed.
It broke Rio’s heart and soul. Knowing how hard they worked to get to the point of parenthood, how they were so eager and excited only for the dreams to come crashing down around them both.
And yet, despite their failed marriage, her heart still beats for Agatha Harkness.
Rio swallows the lump in her throat, tucking the phone into the back pocket of her jeans as she scans the living room to the side of her. Nothing of note to clean, it didn't even look lived in. She takes a deep breath and heads toward the closet at the far end of the room and pulls the vacuum out.
"Guess I'll start cleaning now," she says to herself, "Need to make this place feel more like a home instead of a mausoleum.”