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Her son is sitting amongst his small group of friends in the living room. They’re eating the cake Tyler baked, drinking their colas and laughing. Aiden is there too, sharing his recent adventures from the last full moon. He’s taken after Enid and is a werewolf as well.
It’s Dean’s graduation party. As unbelievable as it is, her son has finished high school. He’s preparing to leave for college in the fall with plans to become a medical examiner in the future. He certainly has the grades for it. While they’re not as perfect as her own were, he’s intelligent in his own right and she’ll cut anyone that says different.
From behind, she feels Tyler’s arms wrap themselves around her, his chin settling on her shoulder. “Hey,” he mumbles near her ear. She inhales, breathing in his unique smell. “Can you believe it? Our boy’s grown now.”
It’s as difficult to believe for her as it is for him. Her parents have told her these years go by quicker than you think. It never seemed that way in the moment; all those years ago when the two of them were dealing with his constant crying and dirty diapers or the occasional temper tantrum or endless math homework that Tyler struggled to help him with. But it’s clear now that they’d been right, as much as she loathes to acknowledge that.
Because now they’re here, having watched their son come into his own, transform into this grown man with his own opinions and desires and dreams.
“Yes,” she murmurs, just as Dean shows his phone to one of his normie friends that sends the other boy into a fit of laughter. “So he is.”
The graduation ceremony was earlier that afternoon. These past few days, Wednesday has experienced something rather strange; an ache in her chest. It comes and it goes, aching at certain times more than others. She knows Tyler must feel this way as well, for she’s caught him sneaking a peek at the photo albums they have of their son more and more as this day had been approaching.
It’s ridiculous to feel this way, she thinks. It was bound to happen, there was no way to stop it. It’s part of life. And yet, it came so unexpectedly at the same time. In a blink of an eye, she’s here, several years older with many experiences under her belt and a slightly changed perspective as well.
Tyler presses his nose in the crook of her neck. He exhales deeply, it’s a sign that he’s pushing back his tears again. He’s been doing that all day. Usually, she would have a remark on her tongue as she normally finds tears repulsive.
But not today.
She won’t do that to him right now. Wednesday reaches back to take hold of his forearm, feeling a kiss against the flesh of her neck.
“You remember that first time he was Spiderman for Halloween?” Tyler says fondly. “He refused to take that costume off for a week straight.”
“Ah, yes,” she recalls. “We said so long as he properly bathed then it was alright.”
Tyler chuckles. “Yeah. Or the time he tried burying that one kid alive.”
“You lied so well to his mother,” Wednesday allows a slight upturn of her lips. “I was impressed.”
“Well, don’t sound so surprised,” Tyler says. “I was lying to Dad long before you came into the picture.”
“But I improved your lying,” she corrects. “You made it far too obvious that’s what you were doing and that’s why you got caught.”
Tyler snorts, then breathes out. It’s just silent at first, but then he says softly, “It’s really over.”
Wednesday’s eyes flicker over to where their son is.
“I still can’t believe it,” Tyler says sadly. “It’s just weird he’ll be leaving in a couple months.”
Wednesday observes the way her son grins, his dimples coming out, and in her mind, the memories are flashing piece by piece like they’re on a movie projector. She sees her son being placed in Tyler’s shortly after birth, sees him giggling when Tyler plays peek-a-boo with him.
She sees him walk for the first time, sees him riding a bike without training wheels.
Running around pretending to be Spiderman. Passing his first math test. Gaps in between his teeth. Digging his first grave. Causing chaos all over town. His first date. Getting his drivers license and nearly crashing the car that first time he practiced.
The ache in her intensifies.
“Yes,” she says. “Apparently it is.”
Tyler takes her into his arms, his face in her hair. They stay like that for a minute or so, lost in this strange feeling of grief that’s come over them.