Epilogue
It’s been a week since they reunited at the hospital. As it turns out, they both live in the same city, so Wednesday came home with Enid once she was released.
She took Enid’s bed, and Enid had been sleeping on the couch. But they’ve just shared Enid’s bed for the last two nights, rekindling their once-beautiful relationship.
It’s late in the evening, and they are alone in the apartment because Yoko is at the club.
But this time, Yoko isn’t “picking up hot chicks,” because she’s going with Divina, whom she finally asked out. Enid hopes their relationship means that she won’t have to deal with late Friday nights at the club anymore.
Enid and Wednesday are lying on the couch, limbs tangled up in each other’s. A movie is playing on the rickety old TV, but neither of them are really paying attention to it.
Wednesday is playing with Enid’s hands, but Enid pulls them away to ask the question she’s managed to hold back for a week.
She doesn’t know why she hasn’t asked yet, to be honest. Fear of the response, maybe, or perhaps it’s because they both find it easier to not acknowledge the past.
“Why did you leave?” Enid queries, feigning nonchalance. She’s fiddling with the rings on her fingers, though, a clear sign of her nervousness, and Wednesday knows her well enough to catch it.
Wednesday looks away and keeps her gaze trained on the TV.
Enid wonders if Wednesday will ignore the question and instead pretend to be very into High School Musical, but then she begins to speak.
She doesn’t make eye contact with Enid at all, but does answer her question, and the answer makes Enid’s breath catch.
“You deserve better,” Wednesday mumbles.
Enid tilts her head. Her old emotions, a combination of anger and deep, profound sadness, become empathy and compassion. Her expression, previously fearful, becomes understanding and kind, and the twinkle in her eye that’s been missing for so long has finally reappeared.
“Why do you say that?” she asks.
“Hm?” Wednesday finally looks up and meets Enid’s gaze.
“Why do you say that?” Enid repeats. “Why do you say that I deserve better?”
Now Wednesday looks like a deer in the headlights, and Enid feels a little bad for putting Wednesday on the spot like this, but the girl had to have known that this was coming.
And in any case, Enid thinks, after seven years, she deserves answers. She deserves closure.
Maybe it’s not proper closure if they pick their relationship back up—platonic or romantic—but at least she’ll know what caused their fallout.
Enid has the tendency to blame herself, and it took her a long time to understand that Wednesday’s leaving might not have been her own fault. Now, given the opportunity to know for certain, how could she ever turn it down?
“I was a mess,” Wednesday says. “I was a mess and could never put in the same effort into our relationship that you were putting in. I wasn’t able to reciprocate fully, and that’s not fair to you.”
Hearing this, Enid begins to get a little aggressive. “Yeah, well, you know what else isn’t fair? Loving someone who cuts contact and leaves you.” She takes a few breaths to calm down, knowing it wasn’t Wednesday’s fault. Or, well, it technically is, but Enid was essentially Wednesday’s first friend. She couldn’t have expected Wednesday to know everything about relationships, platonic and otherwise.
“You aren’t perfect, Wednesday. Nobody is perfect,” Enid points out.
“You deserve as close to perfection possible, and I am as far from perfection as it gets.”
Enid’s heart hurts. “Wednesday, you don’t have to—“she cuts herself off, and they sit in silence for a few moments before Enid continues. “It’s in the past now. What do you think about having a fresh start, you and me?”
Wednesday nods immediately. “Am I forgiven?” she asks in a small voice.
Enid chuckles and pulls Wednesday into her arms, nuzzling her neck and pressing herself as close to Wednesday as possible. “Always, Wednesday,” she says. “Always.”