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Believe me, Wanda thinks, because she needs it right now, Vision’s faith in her.
If he can just trust her, they’ll be able to face whatever’s at the door together. Whoever. Whoever’s at the door. What an odd slip. If she lets her fingers tremble and her steps falter, will he see it then? That this isn’t her? That she didn’t orchestrate an easy out from their argument? Wanda isn’t able to show any vulnerability though, not with uncertainty ahead of her and her suspicious husband at her back. His expression of betrayal is the second-worst thing she’s seen on his face since they moved here.
“Wanda…” he says warningly, and she glances back at him as her hand lands on the doorknob.
A twist and a jerk and the door opens; Wanda shuts her eyes tight for a moment, gathering herself. Vision’s pain is on the inside of her eyelids, the pressure of her love for him squeezing her chest. With a sharp inhalation, she turns to greet their guest with a smile.
“Hey there, you two,” Agnes says in a tone bright with both enthusiasm and chastisement.
“Agnes,” Wanda says.
Their neighbour pushes inside without exactly being invited, like she always does. What’s different is the way she’s dressed. Last time she came through their front door, it was in full aerobics gear, for crying out loud! Now, she’s in a skirt and a blazer with sturdily padded shoulders, carrying a leather attaché case.
“Wanda,” Vision requests quietly, “perhaps you could tell Agnes that this really isn’t a good time.”
“Oh, I know all about that,” Agnes insists with a laugh. She tosses Wanda a wink and heads for their couch. “I could hear you lovebirds shrieking at each other over the sound of Ralph running the lawn mower through my favourite flower bed! Major bummer! Anyway,” she says, taking a seat. “That’s why I’m here.”
Wanda frowns and circles tentatively around to stand across from Agnes.
“You’re here because…?”
“Because it sounds like what you kids need is a marriage counsellor!”
Vision’s contained his aggravation behind his manners as well and as seemingly-easily as he conceals his real self behind a human exterior. Wanda’s heart tugs, not wanting him to hide, but she won’t push right now as he walks over to her.
“Always showing up with just what we require,” he says under his breath, for her ears only. That’s ridiculous. An offer of assistance isn’t the same as a doghouse.
Wanda accepts the chair he gestures for her to take, stung when the one he pulls up for himself is several feet away.
“Are you qualified to do this, Agnes?” Vision inquires at regular volume. “Forgive me, I was under the impression that you were a housewife.”
Agnes’s mouth falls open in pretend shock and she shoots Wanda a brief conspiratorial look, like they’re on the same page and her husband hasn’t even opened the book. But the intimacy she’s shared with Agnes since they arrived here, the way their neighbour kindly took Wanda under her wing and introduced her to life in the suburbs of Westview… it doesn’t comfort Wanda now. She’d rather be in sync with Viz.
“What’s with the fifties ’tude, dude? Ever heard of a little thing called the Equal Rights movement? Might wanna crack a book with all that time you spend at the library!”
She scrunches her nose up and laughs, then, abruptly businesslike, she swings her case onto her lap and extracts a pad of paper and a pen. Lifting her head, she peers earnestly at Wanda and Vision in turn. All Wanda wants to do is reach out and take her husband’s hand, but the space between them just feels too far. Maybe Agnes can help.
“What’s the trouble, girlfriend?” she asks, addressing Wanda first.
“It’s just a minor… tiff,” she decides, clasping her hands in her lap and meeting Agnes’s eye. “Stress at work, the boys growing up so fast. Right, Viz?”
She chances a sideways glance and Vision’s staring back at her with a look that’s too hard to take. Wanda watches her hands in her lap instead.
“Quite. Our sons are flying through their childhood, and work, well, with the advent of email, there’s a great deal to keep up with. Things are changing so quickly that it’s difficult to remember where we began.”
Now, Wanda can feel his gaze on her. Her smile’s holding as she looks only at Agnes, but her eyes burn to cry. She blinks rapidly and pretends it’s the fault of an eyelash irritating her eye.
“I have good news for both of you,” Agnes informs them. “Here it is: every couple goes through this.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Vision mutters.
Wanda ignores him, latching on to their neighbour/counsellor’s words of reassurance.
“They do, I promise! Particularly after kids come on the scene. Kids can change your sense of identity as a couple. Would you say that’s what you’re experiencing?” Agnes prompts, pen hovering over paper.
“I know exactly who we are,” Wanda says firmly.
“I would have to disagree,” is Vision’s response. “In fact, it’s feeling more and more like a personal crisis, as though my wife has left me alone in this, and it’s not only our marriage that I can’t seem to settle into but my own skin! Metaphorically.”
Wanda feels her heart racing after her husband’s rush of words.
“Yes, let it out!” Agnes encourages. “It’s healthy to vent!”
“To be frank with you, Agnes, I would prefer to discuss this with Wanda.”
“You are.”
“Only Wanda.”
“That isn’t what Wanda wants right now,” Agnes tells him. “She thinks it would be more constructive for me to mediate.”
I never said that, Wanda thinks, confusion dimming her smile.
“Of course.” Vision laughs humourlessly and Wanda turns her head to stare at him. That sound is not her Viz. “You know, I think she loves having you here. I think she prefers your presence over mine.”
“That is not true,” Wanda snaps, gripping the arms of her chair.
“And yet who arrives time after time? Agnes with a house for Sparky. Agnes to rock our children when they cry. Why don’t you trust me to take care of our family?” he demands, voice choked.
“BECAUSE YOU WERE GONE!”
Tears stream down her cheeks and red light seeps from between her fingers. With a flash, the matter composing the chair beneath her is redistributed. The chair vanishes. Wanda drops to the ground, arms wrapped around herself as she cries. Vision crouches beside her, gently pulling her face to his chest.
“What do you mean?” he asks, insistent even as he cradles her close. “I’m here, Wanda. I’m always here. I never leave.”
“But you want to,” she wails.
“With you, my love. With you and the boys. Let’s leave this place behind, what do you say?”
“Leave Westview?” It’s Agnes’s voice. Wanda almost forgot she was here. “Why would you want to do that? It’s the cutest little suburb in New Jersey!”
Wanda sniffs and looks up at her.
“Yes,” Vision tells their neighbour, “it’s certainly something. It just isn’t the right place for us.”
“Sure it is! Don’t you feel at home here? Don’t you feel like you’ve made this your home?”
Her eyes are locked on Wanda’s as she says this. It’s hard to judge whether Agnes is trying to push the idea on Wanda or is just waiting for her cue, like she said when she came over to help with the babies.
“Yes,” Wanda agrees thickly, because she has. She has made this their home.
“So you wanna stay, don’t you?” Agnes asks sweetly.
“My wife is perfectly capable of making up her own mind,” Vision interjects.
“I know. And she and I are of the same mind about this, aren’t we, hun?”
She looks encouragingly to Wanda and Wanda feels the sudden tension in her husband’s arms. It’s Agnes’s word choice, too close to Vision’s earlier criticism.
“I have a question for you,” Vision says to their neighbour, who laughs lightly in response.
“That’s not really how marriage counselling works.”
“What compelled you to come here?”
“I told you. I heard—”
“Yes, you heard the children cry, and you heard the dog bark, and you heard Wanda and I argue, but that does not explain why you are always prepared.”
“Lifelong Girl Guide!” Agnes chuckles.
“What is your purpose here?”
“Ease up, kid. I’m just being neighbourly.”
“I know you’re doing your very best to make it appear that way, but if you’re acting under Wanda’s direction, I must ask you to resist it.”
“What on earth do you...?”
“No,” Wanda says. She grasps her husband’s arm. “Viz, no. Not this again. I’m not controlling her. Believe me. Believe me.”
“And if you are not,” Vision goes on, undeterred, “then I suggest you prepare yourself for what will happen should you continue to interfere in our lives.”
Agnes laughs, but it’s not friendly. The noise is baffled, insulted. Not strongly, but Wanda can sense those things just beneath the veneer of politeness. She knows from experience.
“Did you lose your mind?” Agnes demands.
“Did you kill our dog?” Vision counters.
Wanda gasps. Their neighbour looks at Vision in silence for several seconds, then packs up her things and makes for the front door.
“Looks like I better bounce,” she says, regaining some of her cheer. “Hope you two works things out! I’m rooting for you kids!”
When she hesitates on the threshold, Vision gets to his feet, positioning himself between Agnes and Wanda. The door shuts. Stricken, Wanda reaches out and rests her hand on the back of her husband’s leg, just to feel him there. But she can’t. She just feels numb.