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Enid is eighteen when she admits to herself she’s gay.
The last two years of high school are hard. Not outwardly, mind you—from the outside, Enid has a great life, good friends, good grades and while she’s not necessarily popular, people like her well enough.
But on the inside, Enid struggles.
As she grows up, her family becomes quite overbearing. Her mom expects her to be better and do better and constantly asks why she hasn’t dated anyone since Ajax. And every time she asks, the memory of a night two years ago, sitting on the roof outside her window with her best friend, flashes through her mind.
It didn’t mean anything, is what Enid reminds herself. It was just part of the game and a show of allyship from Enid, the kind of silly thing girls do when they’re sixteen and best friends. It has nothing to do with the fact that Enid hasn’t felt romantic interest for anyone in years; that’s just a thing that happened organically.
But Esther doesn’t only push her about her love life—reminding Enid that she and Murray met in high school and got married during their college years—she also pressures Enid about money.
Before she finds out the truth, she and Wednesday talk about colleges. There is no timeline in the multiverse where she doesn’t go to the same college as her best friend of six years, so it’s not even a question: Enid applies to the same place as Wednesday and then forgets about it.
And then she’s hit with a money-shaped dose of reality.
The Sinclairs are not poor by any means but, while they have enough to be an accommodated middle class family, it is heavily implied to Enid that the money her parents saved has been used to pay for her brothers’ college tuitions, because they're simply ‘not as smart as she is’.
The prospect of having to go to a different option, to not see Wednesday every day, to once again live far away from her and continue their lives separately, fills her with such dread, that Enid decides she’s going to get a scholarship, whatever it takes.
But while that is definitely a stressful situation, the real turmoil that keeps her up at night is a different one altogether.
When her mother asks why she isn’t dating anyone, Enid doesn’t have an answer. When she asks herself why she isn’t like her friends, who have boyfriends they take to prom and bring home to their parents, she doesn’t have an answer. When she wonders why she looks at Wednesday all the time, why she thinks about losing her and her heart aches, she definitely doesn’t have an answer.
And deep, deep down in her subconscious, there’s a closed closet door with a sliver of light spilling from underneath—one she’s too afraid to open.
It eats at Enid. Her usual vibrant and colorful personality dims during those last two years of high school. She puts on a smile, performs for the audience, goes to events, participates in clubs: the newspaper, drama club, prom committee.
All while ignoring the knocking on the closet door inside her heart.
It’s exhausting.
And then, towards the end of March, Enid receives an email that changes the trajectory of her life.
Dear Ms. Sinclair,
Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you admission to Nevermore University for the upcoming fall semester.
In recognition of your academic achievements, you have been awarded the Nevermore Academic Excellence Scholarship, covering 100% of your annual tuition for up to four years, provided you maintain satisfactory academic standing.
Please note that this scholarship covers tuition only. Your estimated annual cost of attendance is as follows:
- Tuition: $68,000
- Scholarship: −$68,000
- Housing and meal plan: $18,000
- Required books and personal expenses: $3,000
- Total estimated out-of-pocket expenses: $21,000 per year.
Additional financial assistance may be…
Enid can’t read anymore. Her vision gets blurry and her knees get weak, and she has to sit down at the kitchen table for fear of fainting.
Twenty thousand dollars a year; that is definitely not what she was expecting. She was counting on a full-ride scholarship. There’s no way she can pay that. Her parents won’t help and she has twenty-five dollars to her name.
She’s not going to Nevermore.
She’s not going with Wednesday.
The next twenty minutes are a blur. She drives to Wednesday’s house on autopilot, rings her doorbell and doesn’t even greet Lurch as he opens the door for her. She climbs the stairs to Wednesday’s room as she disassociates and comes into the room without knocking.
The notes that Wednesday was playing on her cello are cut off abruptly.
“Enid,” Wednesday says as she walks in, drags her feet to the bed and sits, staring at the floor, unseeing. “What are you doing here?”
Wednesday sets the cello in its stand and walks up to her, her brow furrowing as Enid doesn’t answer.
“Enid?”
There’s just a fuzzy feeling inside her brain, like her head is filled to the brim with cotton, so much that it puts pressure on her temples and her cheeks from the inside.
She feels numb. Adrift. Lost.
The questions about her future are so many and so fast that they all blend together and distort into static.
Wednesday crouches in front of her to look at her face.
“Enid, what happened?” She asks, firmly but with softness in her voice.
Enid blinks finally, making eye contact with Wednesday.
There she is, her best friend, her favorite person in the world, her soulmate. Beautiful, serious, sarcastic Wednesday, with her big doe eyes full of worry and tenderness. Her better half for the last six years and someone she’s now going to have to say goodbye to. Someone who will move on without her, find a life partner, get married, start a family.
Enid’s face scrunches up into an expression of absolute sadness and despair, her eyes welling up with tears and her lip trembling with emotion.
“Wednesday…” she whimpers, before throwing herself into her arms.
The air is knocked from Wednesday’s lungs by the force of the embrace, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Enid clutches at her back, letting out the most pained sobs, as months of bottled-up stress and repression finally spill over.
Wednesday sits up against the side of the bed and gathers Enid sideways into her lap, hugging her tight as she sobs while she tries to figure out the reason for her friend’s distress.
They stay like this for a long while. Wednesday simply rubs her back and waits.
Finally, Enid’s tears subside enough that she can catch her breath between the occasional hiccup, her sobs quieting to sniffles as she slowly regains the ability to speak.
“I’m sorry, I left mascara on your hoodie,” Enid rasps, her voice totally shot. Wednesday glances at her shoulder, where her dark gray hoodie is indeed stained with Enid’s black mascara.
“It doesn’t matter,” Wednesday says, watching her closely. “Enid, what happened?”
Enid’s lip trembles again. Her hand that was gripping the front of Wednesday’s hoodie like a lifeline goes to her own pocket, where she pulls out her phone to find the email.
“I got an—an answer from Nevermore and… I didn’t get a full-ride scholarship like I was expecting.” Enid takes a shuddering breath, looking up at the ceiling to stop herself from crying again. “I can’t afford the expenses and housing so I won’t—um… I won’t be… fuck.”
“Take a deep breath,” Wednesday says gently as another tear rolls down Enid’s cheek and the girl clearly struggles to keep her composure.
Enid takes several deep breaths, nods, then says: “I won’t be joining you for college. I’ll have to go to my second option, or live at home and go to community college—I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about it yet.” She rubs her face in frustration. “I thought I had it, I really did. I worked so hard. But I just can’t… I don’t have this kind of money.”
Wednesday takes the phone from her hand, reading the email.
“Enid, there are options.”
The blonde shakes her head sadly. “My parents didn’t save any money for me. It all went to my brothers.”
“No, other options. Look.” Wednesday starts reading: “Additional financial assistance may be available to eligible students. Please contact the Office of Financial Aid for information regarding grants, loans, and work-study opportunities.”
Enid sniffs, taking the phone from her hands and reading.
“What—what does that mean?” She asks in a quiet rasp, trying not to get her hopes up.
“They can offer you additional grants based on your financial situation, help you find a job to cover some of your expenses, and, if that still isn't enough, you can take out student loans.”
Enid bites her lip, unsure.
“And, Enid, if the only obstacle is financial, my family can assist with your living expenses. We would never allow a few thousand dollars to deprive you of an opportunity you’ve worked so hard to earn. And I’ll be damned if I let you stay behind while I attend Nevermore.”
“No, Wednesday, I could never do that—accept your money like I’m some charity case.“
“There is absolutely no need for it but, if it made you feel better, you could pay us back.” Wednesday reaches up, wiping a tear from Enid’s cheek with her thumb. “But you shouldn’t worry about that now. The only thing that matters is that you have options.”
Enid can feel her pride fighting with her desperation, the overwhelming need to say ‘no, I won’t take your money’ battling with her desire to stay by Wednesday’s side.
And it surprises even her how that desire outweighs everything else.
The closet door rattles.
“Is that really why you were so upset?” Wednesday asks with a crinkle between her eyebrows. “I didn’t know Nevermore was so important to you.”
Enid looks down then, noticing how she’s still sitting on her best friend’s lap, how her arms are still around her and how they’ve been talking with their faces inches away in such an intimate embrace.
She tenses slightly, but makes no move to pull away.
“It’s—it’s everything. I’ve just been so stressed lately, there’s so much… pressure.”
“Academic?”
“Not only that.” Enid bites the inside of her cheek, considering. The door rattles again and it feels like a fluttering of nerves in her chest that spreads to her fingertips. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“You didn’t tell me.” Wednesday frowns. Enid knows she’s puzzled, since they tell each other everything.
“Well, my mom has been very insistent on me dating, bringing home a guy.” Enid swallows, feeling a lump in her throat.
“Why haven’t you?”
There’s a beat of silence. Enid thinks back on the last two years, on Wednesday dating Tyler for two weeks before finding out what a sociopathic piece of shit he was and dumping him. On herself breaking up with Ajax for the last time when she was sixteen and actually meaning it. On neither of them dating anyone since.
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
“You don’t know?” Wednesday whispers back.
The closet door unlocks with a soft click and creaks open an inch, a sliver of light filtering through the gap.
“I mean… maybe. Maybe I do. I’ve been thinking and—holding back. So much,” Enid says between shuddered breaths.
Wednesday’s thumb on the small of her back rubs back and forth, right over her spine. Comforting, supportive.
“And it’s hard. Because I don’t—“ Enid’s words come out choked, her eyes watering again with unshed tears. “I don’t want to disappoint them. Anyone. I don’t want to be a disappointment for yet another reason.”
“You aren’t. You’ve never been a disappointment, Enid,” Wednesday says firmly, leaving no room for doubt. “You’re extraordinary.”
Enid nods, trying to internalize Wednesday’s words. “But I think I might be—maybe I’m…” With a gentle hand on her back and an open look of understanding and unconditional acceptance, the closet door is blown off its hinges. “I think I’m gay.”
As the words are spoken out loud into the quiet of the room and into the small space between them, Enid feels the weight of the world lift from her shoulders and the light from that tiny closet that had been closed for so long pouring into her chest, warming her from inside.
And she silently begins to cry again.
Wednesday wipes her tears away as they fall and echoes back the words that Enid said to her two years ago: “Thank you for telling me.”
Enid nods. “Oh god, this is so scary,” she says between nervous chuckles and warm tears.
“You’re fine. Overwhelmed, but that’s to be expected. You’re going to be okay.”
“My mom’s gonna hate me.”
Wednesday squints her eyes. “She will have to understand. And if she doesn’t, we’ll deal with it then.”
“They might disown me, Wednesday.”
“Esther is many things, but she’s not stupid. If she knows how much you’re worth, she will adapt her beliefs to keep you.”
Enid wraps her arms around Wednesday’s neck, hugging her tight to her chest. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“You’re never going to be alone, Enid. Whatever happens.”
They stay like that for a while, until Wednesday’s knees start to complain. They get to their feet and Enid looks down sheepishly, unsure of how to act now around her best friend, her mind a tangle of new thoughts and feelings that she can barely make sense of.
Wednesday leaves her alone in her room for a moment and Enid wonders what’ll happen with them now. Will they talk about Enid and her complicated feelings? Will they put some boundaries, some new rules to their friendship? Will they be thrown into a new version of their relationship that Enid is nowhere close to being ready for?
Is it totally presumptuous to assume Wednesday would want that, when she has never shown any interest in Enid and when Enid doesn’t even understand her own feelings? Does Enid even see her like that?
But when Wednesday comes back, she stands next to her and says: “Mother has been informed that you’re staying for dinner. You should call your parents and freshen up in the bathroom, since you look like a raccoon at the moment.”
Enid can’t help but let out a laugh at that. “A raccoon?”
“Yes. I would suggest investing in waterproof mascara to accommodate your tearful displays of emotion.”
“Oh my god, are you calling me a crybaby? I just came out to you and you’re making fun of me?” Enid scoffs in mock-offense.
The corner of Wednesday’s lips tug in a half-smirk. She spins around, expecting Enid to follow her.
“I’m simply being practical. Your emotional outbursts, while mostly warranted, are often accompanied by a rather prodigious tear production.”
“Mostly?!” Enid asks, running after her, her previous worries and questions forgotten as they fall back into their usual banter. “Wednesday, mostly?”
Yeah, they’re going to be okay.