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Once Wednesday had de-colored her room, she found it satisfactory. Some corners of it were showing its age, the floorboards creaked, and there was a bit of a draft when the wind blew. And despite all of its allure, she was spending less time there recently.
“I’m going to the Weathervane,” Wednesday said, packing her bag. “Thing will keep you company.”
“Okay!” Enid settled on her bed in a heap of stuffed animals and crossed her legs. “Tyler’s working today?” she guessed slyly.
Wednesday threw her a dark look. It was question posed merely to nettle her; Enid knew perfectly well he was. After Wednesday had come clean about their status, her roommate had deduced Tyler’s entire weekly schedule in a matter of days through her network of informants and social media acumen, ostensibly for Wednesday’s sake but in reality to tease her. Yet Enid took Wednesday’s glare into stride. “Well, if he is, make sure he’s free this weekend.”
Wednesday paused from putting her things in her backpack. “Why?”
“His birthday’s on Saturday.”
“His birthday?” Wednesday echoed. When that day might happen had not even occurred to her once.
“Yes, his birthday,” Enid said patiently. “Everyone has one.”
“He never mentioned it,” Wednesday said. “How do you know?”
“I checked his Facebook,” Enid said matter-of-factly. “The only thing that app is still good for, by the way. But regardless, you should think of something to do for him, especially since he went out of his way for yours and all.”
Dark chocolate cake and a near-death experience, Wednesday remembered. If she didn’t know better, she would have assumed he was an Addams—such observances were even more morbid than some of their normal celebrations that were downright tame in comparison: a train detonation spectacular for her father, watching Pugsley demonstrate Aristotle’s new tricks, and collecting rose stems to decorate the living room with for her mother.
He wasn’t an Addams, though.
“I’m going to be late,” Wednesday said. “We can discuss this when I return.”
It was an excuse she told Enid to escape; Wednesday thought of nothing else on the drive to town. By the time she exited the shuttle in the main town square and had sat down at the Weathervane, she was no more inspired than she had been at Nevermore. She spread her books and materials on the table as a perfunctory gesture only. Where a quarter of her mind was occupied with the lab report she needed to write, the other three-quarters dwelled on Tyler. Part of Wednesday wanted to reassure herself that he probably would be happy if she even knew it was his birthday. She racked her mind and was sure that he had not breathed a word of it to her. Did he forget or had he not told her on purpose? Why would he do that? To not put the pressure on her to begin with? Conceivably. So he might not be expecting anything at all, but this possibility wasn’t a relief. Rather, it only exacerbated the issue in Wednesday’s view: He was far too considerate for someone like her.
Her brooding was interrupted by the soft clatter of a cup and saucer. Tyler set down a quad over ice at Wednesday’s booth and slid into the opposite seat. Wednesday let herself be distracted by his arrival and greeted him with her eyes.
“How was your week?” he said.
“We dissected frogs in biology,” she replied. “The first worthwhile lesson in several months. So on the whole, excellent.”
“Oh. People actually do that?” Tyler said. “I thought that was just in the movies.”
“Apparently they do.”
“I’m—happy for you?” Tyler said. “Listen, if my class ever gets around to dissecting a frog, I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Would you?” It was sure to make better conversation than the inane chatter she overheard other partners share.
Tyler smiled and nodded. “Hey, um—by the way, what are you doing next weekend?”
Wednesday scrutinized him from over her notebook. She was the one who was supposed to be asking this, not him. “I have no plans,” she said.
“The Winter Carnival is running from Friday until the new year,” he said. “I was thinking of checking it out on Saturday. Do you want to come with? I know it’s not exactly your vibe, so you don’t have to, but—”
He didn’t disclose it was to celebrate his birthday. And he had just explicitly given her an excuse to turn him down, meaning there was no obligation to actually accompany him. It was a tempting way out, if Wednesday was honest with herself. But Enid was right. Tyler always took into account her idiosyncrasies, went along with them, appreciated them, beyond even the matter of birthdays. And here she was, not even knowing his was on the horizon until someone else told her out of the blue. The least she could do was accept what he was interested in.
“Yes, Saturday should be fine,” Wednesday said.
Tyler’s face broke out into a wide smile. “Okay, cool. I’ll pick you up at Nevermore around six-thirty, then.”
“Don’t be late,” she said.
He was still grinning. “I won’t be. But I’ve gotta get back to it.” He gestured to her coffee. “Want anything else?”
She shook her head, releasing him to the remainder of his shift. Wednesday tried to return to her work as well, but not even the report on her frog was enough to retain her attention. It was Sunday today. Fewer than seven days remained to decide on and acquire a present for Tyler. She watched him furtively at the counter. Nothing related to coffee—that would be tacky and shallow. Wednesday suspected he didn’t even like it; this job was purely for the money. So what else?
He gave her a small wave. Wednesday averted her gaze, mortified to be caught staring at him. Was she really becoming this sloppy? It wouldn’t do: She needed distance from him to think. Resolved that she wouldn’t be any more productive in his presence, she stowed away her things for an early exit.
The shuttle back to school was no more fruitful than it had been coming into town. As Wednesday approached her door, Enid’s voice was clearly audible from the hallway. There was no one else that Wednesday could hear, so she must have been talking to Thing. Upon entering the room, Enid sat up from where she had been lying on her stomach, kicking her feet back and forth in the air. She beamed expectantly, eager to hear what had happened at the Weathervane. Thing, who had crawled down from Enid’s bed, appeared equally as rapt.
“How’d it go? Tell me everything.”
Wednesday spared her roommate a glance as she took off her backpack and coat. “He wants to visit the Winter Carnival on Saturday.”
Enid’s eyes widened. “That’s good! It’s so much fun. They have a bunch of food and games and lights…last year Yoko and I went ice skating there and ended up on their Instagram page; it was pretty legit.”
None of what Enid had just reeled off was of any interest to Wednesday. She crossed her ams. “I agreed to go because it was his suggestion. I have no intention of being used as a pawn for their social media presence. Anyone who tries will be sorry.”
“Sure, sure,” Enid said. She clasped her hands behind her back, swinging slightly. “So? Do you know what you’ll get him?”
A pause. No, Wednesday did not know. Registering her uncertainty, Enid nodded sympathetically.
“Well, that’s okay. I figured you might not, so Thing and spent the time you were gone brainstorming.” She offered Wednesday a pink piece of paper that featured in the corner a white cat wearing blue overalls. Suppressing a shudder, Wednesday scanned the list. There were certainly more ideas here than she had been able to conjure up herself.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
Enid grinned. “Oh, and make sure you write a card too. Do you want to use one of mine?”
Wednesday assumed a good deal of them would probably have the same cat on them or something similar. “I have my own stationery,” she reminded Enid.
Her roommate was undisturbed. “Then you better start thinking of a birthday message! And remember, he’s your boyfriend now—how about making it more than two words?” The sentiment was standard coming from Enid, but Wednesday wondered if she was also secretly reveling in this new dimension to their friendship. Wednesday rolled her eyes and sat down at her desk.
Tyler,
Tyler—
Dear Tyler—
My best wishes to you on your birthday. Given your unfailing tolerance, You surely are one of the few people I know to whom who deserves them, given your unfailing tolerance of the writer of this message communication. A rare quality.
WA
Wednesday
She read it over. Then she removed the paper from the typewriter and inserted a new sheet.
Dear Tyler—
My best wishes to you on your birthday. You surely are one of the few people I know who deserves them, given your unfailing tolerance of the writer of this communication. A rare quality.
Wednesday
13. Flannel
14. Books
15. Homemade cookies/brownies/any baked goods
Wednesday tapped a pen absent-mindedly at Enid’s list. For the last half hour she had been staring at it without any real deliberation but plenty of vexation. A full day had passed since learning of Tyler’s upcoming birthday and she was no further along in deciding about a present.
“Any progress?” Enid chirped as she waltzed in through the door, flushed pink like her T-shirt. She sounded refreshed and energized after spending the afternoon playing dodgeball on one of Nevermore’s back fields with her other friends.
Wednesday closed her eyes. Then she swiveled in her seat. “Your list is very comprehensive, but not entirely what I imagined.”
“Then what would that be?” Enid said, not to be deterred.
Wednesday looked aside. Enid exhaled.
“Okay. Let’s think about it, then.” She dragged her chair over to Wednesday’s desk and sat in front of her. Wednesday frowned.
“What are you doing?”
Enid fixed her with a grave expression. “This is what’s called girl talk, Wednesday. We’re going to figure out what to get your boyfriend. This is an important event! We need to see eye-to-eye.” She pointed two fingers at herself and then at Wednesday. “So. None of the suggestions from Thing or me fit your criteria. And although I am insulted, that’s fair. But now you need to spill on what you’re thinking of.”
Wednesday pursed her lips, unresponsive. She’d prefer not to.
Enid groaned. “Okay. Well, is he creative, or.…a nerd…Like, what qualities in Tyler do you think are his best attributes? Something like that.”
The question sounded like a trap to get Wednesday to talk about her feelings.
“Wednesday! Will you please try?” Enid scolded her when she said as much. “Do you hear yourself? We’re trying to think of something for Tyler. Not everything is about you.”
Properly chastised, Wednesday relented enough to think of how to phrase what she wanted to say, which was to mean it was far more complicated than she cared to acknowledge. “He’s…nice.”
A huff from Enid. “Really? No kidding, Wednesday—why else would you be with him? In what way?”
“Thoughtful,” Wednesday said, following another internal word search. Too thoughtful.
“There we go, that’s something!” Enid encouraged. “What else? What do you like to do? What’s the vibe with you guys?”
This time, Wednesday legitimately had to pause—not to deliberate over her words, but for a total lack of them. When she reflected on the time she spent with Tyler, there wasn’t a lot that particularly stood out. Yes, there was their quid pro quo, not-a-date date at Crackstone’s Crypt. Excluding this—they weren’t the types to plan extravagant events for each other, which was why this whole affair now was such a headache. Everything she associated with Tyler was overwhelmingly…unremarkable. They were not dominated by certain days or anniversaries but fleeting flashes in time. Seeing him run up to her when he finished his day at the Weathervane, his hair a little tousled and face tired from a full shift but lighting up when he spotted her. Driving her back to Nevermore at night every week even though she could take the evening shuttle. The soft texture of his well-worn brown corduroy jacket, scenting the autumn air in its fabric. There was no common through-line, other than the utterly pedestrian quality of all of them.
How could she explain that it was the mundane she actually valued the most?
“There isn’t one,” Wednesday said truthfully. “Not one that’s anything special, anyway.” If anything, the answer would drive Enid crazy, and it did.
She drew in a sharp breath. “You—are—impossible!” she cried. “How can you say that?”
Wednesday crossed her arms defiantly. “If you’re finding this frustrating, then by all means—“
“No!” Enid snapped, cutting her off before Wednesday finished her proposal to end the conversation. “We’re solving this, Wednesday Addams, you and me. Right now. God, there’re only a couple more days!” Her voice rose to an alarmingly-pitched squeal then, and she held up her hands as if to rein herself in. A meditative second passed during which Enid calmed herself. “Okay. So you like that he’s nice, thoughtful, and you guys apparently don’t have a vibe, which I still don’t understand but fine. Is that what he would say too?”
“You should ask him,” Wednesday suggested waspishly.
“Are you crazy?” Enid said with horror and missing Wednesday’s sarcasm. “That’ll totally give it away. Why don’t you just tell me, since you’re supposedly going out with him.”
Tyler was more expressive than Wednesday was. And he’d probably had more experience in relationships, so he’d likely be able to come up with a better descriptor. But she didn’t think he would disagree with the underlying principle of hers. “He wouldn’t say it exactly like that,” Wednesday allowed. “But he’s not difficult to please. He once said he doesn’t care about what it is we do, as long as—“ She glimpsed Enid, who was leaning forward earnestly, like a dog waiting to be fed.
“Yeah?”
Wednesday groaned to herself. The rest of it was typical Tyler, but for her, it was sickening. Enid would love it. “As long we’re together,” she finished.
Predictably, Enid adopted the same expression she did when she saw pictures of baby animals: Her eyes grew to the size of saucers and her lower lip protruded out as if she was about to cry. “Okay, what the hell—that is so cute—“ she exclaimed emphatically. “How the hell did you of all people manage to land the sweetest guy in town? And how’d he get to be so sweet in the first place?”
Wednesday smirked slightly. “He goes to therapy.”
“Most boys will literally pay money to not talk about their feelings,” Enid grumbled. “Seriously, they’re so stupid.” Then she gasped and jumped to her feet. “Oh my god! I’ve got it!” She grabbed Wednesday by the shoulders and shook her. “You said he doesn’t care about what you do, as long as you guys are together?”
Wednesday leaned back in her chair. She was mostly accustomed to Enid’s base level of energy now, but when it came in bursts like this, she was still unsettled. “Yes.”
“As long as you guys are together,” Enid repeated with a relish, pointing a finger at Wednesday. “Only a boy who’s got it really bad says sappy stuff like that. The type of guy who thinks about you all the time, seeing you, all that. So—here’s what to get him.”
The weekend blew in snowy and cold. On Saturday, Wednesday walked down to the Nevermore gates with Tyler’s present tucked into her backpack and prepared for a night of merriment. She anticipated all the normal diversions that came in tandem with these events, as well as at least one Santa Claus, per the primer Enid gave her prior to leaving. Wednesday didn’t think Tyler would go so far as to suggest taking a picture with one, but she had mentally braced herself for the ordeal.
The headlights of Tyler’s car were cutting through the evening fog as she reached the gate. She got into the passenger seat, resisting the urge to wish him a happy birthday. For now. She would let him think things were going his way until the right time.
The Winter Carnival occupied the same lot of empty land where the Harvest Festival usually lived in the fall but appeared even more of an occasion than its autumnal counterpart. Lined up in neat rows were booths for games, food and drinks, and local vendors and artists hawking their goods, each individual tent strung up with multicolored, twinkling lights and other holiday accoutrement like lush wreaths and shining bells. Depending on where she stood, Wednesday could variously smell chocolate, peppermint, and ginger. A giant Christmas tree festooned with tinsel and enormous gold and red baubles the size of Wednesday’s head indicated the fair’s center square. Children leaned against the short white fence surrounding the tree, ogling gleefully at their distorted reflections in the ornaments. Next to the tree, a queue of families spilled out of Santa’s workshop to see the man himself or get their purchases wrapped in the stall next door. Speakers attached to the top of every other tent pumped out holiday music, though it was somewhat difficult to distinguish above the ambient noise of all the guests. Rising above the carnival was a Ferris wheel, slowly rotating like the gears in a clock. It too was adorned with Christmas lights like everything else within a five foot radius of them.
“So—where do you want to start?” Tyler asked.
Wednesday surveyed the scene before her. “I could go for some target practice.”
They walked over to a booth with a pair of air soft guns. “Hit all five bullseyes and you can get anything on the top shelf,” the man at the stall said in reference to the line of stuffed animals looming over them. “Knock yourself out.”
Wednesday picked up the gun and aimed. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, flew each pellet cleanly through the center spot on each target. Wednesday turned expectantly and wordlessly to the attendant, who was suitably impressed.
“All right, not bad at all,” he said. “Take your pick.”
Wednesday considered her options with faint distaste. “The Harvest Festival had bigger ones.”
The man scowled. “Look, kid, you want one or not?”
Wednesday glanced aside to Tyler and then the shelf. Almost all of the choices before her were fluffy, doe-eyed caricatures of the real animals they claimed to approximate. If she was choosing for herself, she would have taken the killer whale. They were smart, powerful, and wickedly devious hunters at the top of the food chain—the perfect predator. Still...
The man plopped down a stuffed lion on the table. Wednesday took the plush and examined it. The shiny beads of its eyes were brown but flecked with green. They reminded her of Tyler’s.
“Any shooting for you?” the man said to him before Wednesday voice her intentions to bestow the lion upon him. To Wednesday’s surprise, Tyler stepped forward. “Same rules,” the man said. “Go ahead.”
“When did you learn how to do that?” Wednesday wondered five shots later.
“My dad used to take me shooting. It’s been a while, but I guess I haven’t lost it yet. Uh, the orca,” he added to the man. “Thanks.” When they were left alone, Tyler held it out to Wednesday. “Trade you—This is the one you really wanted, right? Why didn’t you go for it?”
He was annoyingly perceptive. “I must have my reasons,” she said, more to herself than him, swapping and moving on.
The fragrance of boiling hot toddies brought them to the next booth. Non-alcoholic available! advertised a miniature chalkboard on the counter. They both bought a cup so scalding steam drifted up from their cups like their breath came out their mouths in clouds. A small sip was sufficient to flood Wednesday’s body to the core with heat and she could barely stand to hold the cup even with the protective slip of card stock over it. While they waited for them to cool, Tyler took their newly-acquired winnings and sat them next to each other on top of the picnic table. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of them.
“You know how they say people sometimes look like their pets?” He nodded at their prizes. “I think we look like our stuffed animals.”
Wednesday couldn’t argue with the claim. Tyler’s hair was the same color as the lion’s mane, and it flattered him rather like a crown the way the mane did for the lion. As for herself, well—the resemblance was obvious.
“I say we try the Ferris wheel next,” she proposed. The line wasn’t as long as she had first seen it, only taking ten minutes before they reached the front once they joined. An attendant was loading each compartment full with four passengers. Wednesday narrowed her eyes. She was here for Tyler, not Tyler and two random strangers. She’d have to be quick if she was going to pull this off.
As the next foursome boarded their car, Wednesday reached into her pocket and pulled out several bills. Without preamble, she turned to the couple behind them and flashed the money at them. “This is yours if you wait for the next compartment,” she said. Bemused, the man and woman gaped at her.
“Uh—“
“It’s fifty dollars,” Wednesday said. The pair hesitated, every millisecond passing with the feeling of a century as Wednesday waited, as her impatience mounted. Soon it would be their turn—
“Sure, why not.” The woman took the money as the attendant was calling Wednesday and Tyler forward. Wednesday strode into the compartment behind Tyler, her stony face hiding her satisfaction and relief.
“Did you just—bribe those people after us?” Tyler said as the door slammed shut and locked.
“Doing us a favor,” Wednesday corrected as she slid onto the bench next to him. “Would you prefer them to join us?”
“I guess not,” he agreed. The compartment hitched with a groan of its metallic joints and the wheel came to life, lifting them above the carnival at a leisurely pace. As soon as they had cleared the snow-dusted pines that enclosed the carnival, Tyler peered outside the window with all the eagerness of a child.
“Hey, the Weathervane’s over there,” he said. “See it?”
“Yes,” Wednesday lied, not seeing it at all. She had her backpack on her legs and the flap undone, but not open to what was inside. She snaked her hand under the flap and carefully fingered the gift, taking care to not crinkle the paper or make a sound. It comforted her to know it was there.
They climbed higher and higher. At the quarter-way point, it paused for some time and Wednesday unwound marginally to join Tyler in taking in the view. Jericho appeared like some oddly-festive, skeletal outline of a town with the lit roofs and façades of the buildings framing what seemed like nothing but pure darkness. Further beyond and lost in the gloom had to be Nevermore.
After five minutes, they jerked into motion. Each time the wheel started and stopped, the whole compartment shuddered under them. For that split second, it appeared as if it would disconnect from the contraptions holding them aloft and a sinister thrill passed through Wednesday that faded once the car stabilized and resumed its moseying journey. It was enough to briefly divert her from her nerves, though not as long as she would have wished. She rubbed her hands on the black tights she wore. Even in the freezing weather, she feared they would sweat.
The peak of the wheel was now seconds away. With Tyler occupied, Wednesday took out the present silently and laid it flat on the other side of the bench so her body hid it. She expected at the wheel’s zenith, they would have as long as they did before, or perhaps even longer. Either way, it was ample time for her to execute her plan—or botch it entirely.
A low rumble sounded from the wheel, announcing their imminent arrival to the top. Like a train that pulled into a station, their compartment eased along a few more feet as it slowed, finally coming to a rest at the very pinnacle of the wheel. From their height, the fair was now a collection of striped tent tips and narrow paths the width of Wednesday’s finger. The revelers below that moved between the stalls were but fractions of their real size. The brightly-colored holiday clothing that they wore made them shine like jewel beetles scurrying along a jungle floor. At the peripheries of the fair grounds, the surrounding forest was bathed in the carnival’s glow of warm gold. Amid the frigid evening, the carnival resembled a lighthouse in the dark, a lonesome salvation that nevertheless signaled life.
Wednesday held her breath, waiting for the last dying noise of the wheel to disappear. Under it, the festive music that had been playing was indistinguishable, now a vague rhythm of jingle bells and weakly beating drums. She slid the package onto her lap.
“Tyler.”
“Yeah?” He turned around and noticed at once what she held. “What’s that?”
Wednesday picked up the gift. It was reassuring to have it in her hands, to have some sense of its weight, to feel the paper, while she steeled herself. Then she offered it out to him. “It’s for you. For your…birthday.” The words left her reluctantly in her apprehension. She had been thinking the whole evening this whole arrangement was a way to surprise him. Not once had she considered if she should have let the whole thing go.
Tyler’s response was unreadable. “My birthday?” he said.
Wednesday glanced at the gift and then back up at him, silently compelling him to take it. “Happy birthday.”
Enid better have read that date right or I’ll murder her, Wednesday thought fiercely. Were they wrong, and this whole thing was a giant disaster? The suspense was torture—Wednesday wouldn’t have minded, but she did want to know if she was wrong.
He held her in doubt only for a while longer, before his front collapsed and he accepted the gift, good-naturedly but almost ruefully. “I should have known I wouldn’t be able to hide it from you,” he sighed.
Technically, you did, Wednesday admitted, even if she wasn’t about to say it. She was curious, however— “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Like you told me when yours was?”
A valid point. All right, so maybe Wednesday had set herself up for this; she just hadn’t expected Tyler to sink to her level. Wasn’t he supposed to be the better one of them? “Touché,” she conceded, but Tyler shrugged.
“It didn’t seem important. I kinda just wanted to hang out with you. Now that I’ve got this, though—“ He turned the present over in his hands. Wednesday had wrapped it completely in a black paper and bound it with a black velvet ribbon. “Very on brand,” Tyler noticed. “Can I open it?”
“I think you should,” Wednesday said.
Tyler obliged without argument, first slipping out the card she had placed under the bow. It didn’t take long to review; she had been succinct, after all. But it was nevertheless lengthy enough to generate a smile from him as he read it and put it in his pocket. “Thank you, Wednesday—it’s very sweet of you.”
He liked to make fun of her with that word these days. She would let it slide today.
Tyler pulled at the ribbon until it came loose and he could tear open the paper. Beside him, Wednesday studied his face for any minute change of expression, hoping her own concentration would hide the prickle of anxiety that threatened to surface. She had told Enid he was easy to please, yet now she was finding it hard to convince herself of that statement. Would he like it? He struck her to be in slow motion; it was as if Wednesday could discern every muscle in his face move then. First his eyebrows contracted in confusion, not quite laughing, and then a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He held up a photo of them together at the Rave’n, framed in silver.
“Where in the world did you get this?” he said, disbelieving.
“I assure you, I was as surprised as you to learn of its existence,” Wednesday said. “Apparently Thing was playing photographer and taking pictures all night.” She had been ignorant of the fact until after Enid had told her of her idea and Wednesday protested she had no photos to frame—that she knew of. Almost as soon as she finished speaking, Thing pulled up a floorboard, retrieved a veritable album of loose pictures he had hoarded, and sheepishly confessed. “He’s improved on his stealth, I’ll grant him that.”
The explanation didn’t faze Tyler. “I was thinking this was a surprisingly normal present. Almost too normal. But the reason you got this is because Thing was stalking us?” She nodded. “That’s more like it.” He thumbed the side of the frame, taking in the photo fondly.
It had clearly been taken in between songs, for they stood in an empty corner with the lighting decorations as their sole company, half-drunk yeti-tinis in hand—Tyler leaned against the white-curtained wall, his head tilted slightly upward and eyes shut mid-laugh, Wednesday keenly observing him from over the rim over her glass, mid-sip. She couldn’t remember what they had been talking about or what had amused Tyler. It didn’t matter. She remembered the moment, how she had felt. A little cautious. A little curious. The same emotions a good detective experienced upon arriving at a new crime scene for the first time.
“I thought you might appreciate a photo of…us. Seeing as I haven’t been gracious enough to let you take any otherwise,” Wednesday said. “But then, as long as we’re on the subject…” Was she really going to do this? Enid had assured her Tyler would love it. “If you ever wanted another one—”
Tyler tore his focus from the photo to regard her. “Do you have something else?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Wednesday said. She tipped her head towards his pocket, where the corner of his phone peeked out. Wednesday didn’t need to take pictures to remember things; that was what her typewriter was for. Apparently, though, most people preferred photos to journaling. She had to guess Tyler was probably in that camp and she hadn’t been a very willing partner in that respect.
Understanding spread across his countenance; Tyler took his phone out and pulled up the camera. Noticing her wariness, he laughed quietly and said, “You don’t have to smile if you don’t want to, I won’t be offended.”
He held his phone up in one hand and Wednesday looked at themselves on the screen. Tyler put their stuffed animals on their laps. Clasping her orca with both hands, Wednesday shuffled up the seat so she sat against Tyler, letting him drape his arm around her shoulder while he held Wednesday’s gift up, showing it off for the camera. Behind them was the dark night sky, too distant to be touched by any lights but that from the moon and stars.
“Okay, ready? I’ll take a couple,” Tyler said. “One, two three—“
A short chuckle escaped him as he checked them and then showed Wednesday the results. His beam into the lens was a sharp contrast to Wednesday: She had twisted herself to partially hide her face in the heavy coat Tyler wore just before he took the picture. All it captured of her was a flash of a knowing smirk, one in which Tyler delighted.
“I’d expect nothing less from you for your first selfie.”
Wednesday frowned, distracted from her examination of the photo. It might have been his birthday, and she had been very forgiving, but she had to put her foot down sometime. “Never say that word again.”
“Hey, whatever you want,” Tyler agreed without complaint. He glanced between his phone and the frame. “Thank you, Wednesday. This is perfect.”
His appreciation unsettled her. She was satisfied it had all gone off so well, but she couldn’t resist—
“Well, it wasn’t all my doing,” she blurted out. She didn’t know why. It was that sense of self-sabotage that couldn’t let her enjoy the fruits of her labor unmolested. Embarrassment, possibly, compelled her, like she couldn’t be completely associated with something so generous, when it was so at odds with everything else about her.
“No?” Tyler wondered.
“Enid helped me,” she admitted.
“My thanks to Enid too, then,” Tyler said. “But what did you need help for? You’re the smartest person I know.”
Wednesday fidgeted in her disquiet. He asked with innocence alone, she knew. Not meaning to dredge up the doubt that so often colored her actions with him.
“I’ve never celebrated a birthday that wasn’t in my family before,” she said. “And since my own and Crackstone’s Crypt, you’ve been eerily adept at indulging me.”
“Technically Crackstone’s Crypt wasn’t for your birthday,” Tyler pointed out.
“It was restitution for what you actually did for my birthday,” Wednesday countered. “Which was almost getting killed on account of me, if I recall. So I would be doing you a severe disservice if I did not attempt to meet your record…although…”
Hearing herself speak her ruminations aloud was different to just musing on them in her head. They were in the world now, including her gratitude, and by extension, the weight of how much he had done for her. The realization of how indebted she might really still be even though she had convinced herself she wouldn’t be after tonight clenched at her insides in a panic of inadequacy.
Honesty was never a quality with which Wednesday had struggled. On the contrary, she had been accused of it coming to her too easily more times than she could count. It was purely when the truth concerned the insecurities that Tyler was so uncannily skilled at inadvertently pinpointing that she hesitated.
Had she really done as well as she thought she had? She didn’t think so, and after all that time she had spent thinking about it. None of this was really the product of her own effort. She’d received assistance with every element.
“Although—“ Wednesday bit her tongue as she tried again. “Although—“
With a press of his lips against hers, Tyler mercifully kept her from continuing to flounder in her discomfort. A kiss that came unbidden but was everything, that spontaneity that was unparalleled in the feverous exhilaration it inspired. Wednesday's body tensed at its suddenness for a second, and then just as quickly she relaxed into the familiarity of his touch and inclined herself to give him better purchase to her. Yet his mouth was soft, slow—not desperate but attentive, the way the ocean caressed the shore on a calm day, waves that lapped up along the sand with a sigh instead of a storm. His habitual gentleness merely triggered in Wednesday an ache for less restraint; she had to reach for him, threading her fingers in his hair, wanting him closer, pulling him nearer. And as soon as she did, she was gratified with his reaction in kind, ever more unrelenting and with an urgency that simply drove her to lean deeper into him.
She was insensible to everything she had fretted upon even a few seconds ago. It had all evaporated along with what must have been the rest of the air in their car. Wednesday could scarcely think of anything other than Tyler and how he felt against her, that utterly dizzying sensation that still thrilled her as much as it did the first time they had kissed in the Weathervane, a giddiness that the height of their Ferris wheel compartment, suspended high above the carnival grounds and Jericho and the lake and trees, could only wish to effect.
It had been foolish to not have kissed him earlier that night, when this was the impact it had on her. She could have saved herself a lot anxiety if she had just—
The jolt of the wheel pulled them apart, so forcefully that Wednesday would have been shaken to the floor had Tyler not caught and steadied her by the arm before she fell. Not a little disgruntled at the interruption, Wednesday glared at the compartment’s interior. No sooner had she righted herself and they had traveled a scant, few more meters than the car came to another halt—in a fashion that was decidedly rougher than any other iteration and certainly not one that was planned. Tyler and Wednesday exchanged confused looks.
“Why are we stopped again?” she said.
Tyler slid to the other side of the seat and peered down the Ferris wheel’s axis to the control station on the ground. “Must be stalled,” he said.
“Stalled?” Wednesday repeated with scorn. “Ferris wheels have existed for over a hundred years and people still don’t know how to run them for a single day?”
“Wednesday, it’s fine,” Tyler assured her. “They’ll fix it eventually, don’t worry about it.”
She turned around. “I’m not worried. I’m irritated.” She sat down and crossed her arms, prepared to stew in her indignation. She peeked at Tyler from the side. “Would you like me to write the operator of this machine a letter when we get out of here?”
“Uh, no—?” Tyler said. “What for?”
“For ruining your birthday with their general incompetence,” she replied as if it were obvious.
Tyler grinned, clearly remembering the story she had related to him of her thank you note to her editor. “I appreciate the offer, but you don’t need to go to that trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. In fact, I’d rather enjoy it,” Wednesday said. “But if you’re sure.”
“They didn’t ruin anything. Really, it’s okay. Let’s just try and focus on the bright side.”
Wednesday arched an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“Well, we get extra time at the top,” Tyler said. “I’d rather get stranded with a nice view than ten feet off the ground. Besides, there are worse people we could be stuck with, don’t you think?”
The simmering umbrage in Wednesday softened at his sincerity. His ability to catch her off-guard with such ease was exceptional. Who would have thought someone so unassuming would match her so evenly? But he did. So she couldn’t deny that all the stress she had piled on herself in the past week to give him the birthday he deserved was suddenly now all worth it, because he was worth it.
And she couldn’t deny that he was right, either.