I’m not sure why I hate Halloween so much, but I really do. It might have something to do with my parents’ lack of enthusiasm for “that heathen holiday,” but who knows? Having kids means you have to jump on the bandwagon and pretend that dressing up in ridiculous outfits and going door to door begging strangers for candy is A-OK.
I blessed the day Vivs and Laura outgrew trick-or-treating, and I lived happily with the knowledge that I would never have to do it again. Yeah. That’s what I get for making plans. Luckily, I live with the only person more in love with Halloween than a five-year-old boy. I’ve gone out with Ron and Max other years, but tonight they are flying solo. My only job is to give kids a hard time when they come to our house.
As I’m filling our trick candy bowl (the green skeleton hand comes down when you reach inside to get treats, mwa-ha-ha-ha!), the doorbell rings.
“Trick or treat, Mrs. Dixon!”
It’s Zach T. and Peetsa. Zach T. is dressed as a mailman. Peetsa has a witch’s hat on and a bottle of wine in her hand.
“Hey, guys! You look great, Zach. Let’s see a trick.”
He looks at me and frowns. Peetsa starts to laugh.
“Don’t you know any tricks? I need to see a trick before I can give a treat,” I say as I wink at her.
Zach thinks for a minute. “Well, I can burp the alphabet. Is that a trick?”
“Yeah, it is! Let’s hear it.”
As Zach burps away, I hug Peetsa and take the bottle of wine she offers.
“You read my mind,” I whisper.
“T burp U burp V burp W burp X burp Y burp Z.”
“Nicely done.” I offer him the candy bowl. “Now can you go upstairs and see what’s taking Max so long?”
“Sure!” He runs to the stairs.
“Oh, my God, do you make every kid do that?” Peetsa asks.
“Damn right. Nothing is free. They should learn that early in life.”
I’m so glad Peetsa agreed to help me give out candy tonight. Buddy is doing home duty at their house and Ron is taking the boys out, so it’s a perfect girls’ night in. I head to the kitchen and pull out some wineglasses. As I go to open the bottle, I notice it has a screw top. I whistle.
“Whew! Hope you didn’t break the bank with this one.”
“Excuse me, but that’s actually a really good bottle.”
I wave the screw top at her.
“A lot of vineyards don’t use cork anymore for some of their vintages. That, my friend, is a fine Australian Shiraz stolen from Buddy’s wine closet.”
“I love that you’re so into wine.”
Peetsa takes the glass from me.
“Well, Buddy’s the real oenophile. I just reap the benefits. Cheers.”
Just then I hear what sounds like thunder coming down the stairs, and a mailman, a ninja, and a football player appear before my eyes.
“Wow! You guys look awesome! Peetsa, this is my first husband, Ron.”
Ron rolls his eyes. “She thinks that never gets old.” He shakes hands with my new friend.
Peetsa laughs. “Well, it’s pretty funny the first time you hear it.”
Max strikes a pose.
“Ninja!” he yells.
“Show Mrs. Tucci your trick, Max.”
“Mom, no one ever asks for a trick,” Max whines.
“You never know,” I say. “Come on, just show her.”
Max grimaces but indulges me. He holds the sword sideways in both hands, brings it to knee level, and awkwardly jumps over it, through his arms. Peetsa and Ron clap. Zach hoots his approval.
“Love that!” exclaims Peetsa. “You will get so much more candy if you bust that move out at every house.”
“Do it while Zach burps the alphabet!” I chime in.
“What trick should I do?” my husband murmurs as he kisses me on the cheek. He is decked out in a Kansas City Chiefs uniform.
“Maybe you could rough up the quarterback a little later.” I give him a good pat on the butt.
“Deal.” He smiles. “Okay guys, grab your bags and let’s hit it. You girls have fun.”
“Ninja!” Max yells as they head out the door.
* * *
As Peetsa and I settle in to the two chairs I have moved close to the front door, I take my first sip of wine.
“Oh, wow. That is good.”
“Mm-hmm.” Peetsa washes down a bite of pizza with a big gulp.
Just then the doorbell rings.
“Oh, God, here we go.” I open the door and standing in front of me are three princesses a little older than Max.
“Yes?” I ask. “Can I help you?”
Silence.
“Trick or treat!” says the mother standing behind them. She’s wearing a crown.
“What’s your trick, Princess?” I ask with a big smile.
Nothing.
“They’re shy,” says the mom by way of explanation for their muteness.
“Hmmm. I really need a trick to give a treat.”
Now they’re all staring at me. The mother is giving me a look that says, “Really, you’re going there?” I stand my ground. Then one of the little girls pipes up, “I can do a cartwheel.”
“That is a great trick!” I encourage her. “Let’s see it.”
She puts down her crown-shaped candy bag, walks down the steps to our lawn, hikes up her dress, and does a perfect cartwheel. I clap and cheer and offer the candy bowl to all three girls.
“Bye, girls. Have a fun night.” Just as I’m closing the door, I see the mother give me the finger.
Peetsa is doubled over laughing.
“Oh, my God! You are horrible. There should be a warning on your door.”
Over the next hour, our conversation is interrupted about thirty times by the doorbell. After something like the sixteenth ring, I lose my enthusiasm for torture and just hand out the candy. Except when I open to see a group of teenagers just standing there holding bags. No costumes, no trick-or-treat. This is my pet peeve. I’m sorry, but door-to-door candy gathering is for children, not semi-adults looking for sugar.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Uh, trick or treat?” one of them tries.
“Great! What’s your trick?”
“My what?”
“Your trick. The thing you do to get the treat.”
“Uh, we just came to get candy. Do you got any?”
“Not for people who don’t do a trick.” I smile.
“Do you mean, like, magic or something?”
“Sure. Do you know any magic tricks?”
“Uh…”
“Dude, let’s go,” says another teen. “She’s a bitch.”
I look at the kid who just spoke. There’s something …
“Robbie Pritchard? Is that you?”
“Oh, shit,” they all say.
The Pritchards lived next door to my parents for years.
“Did you just call me a bitch?” I ask calmly.
At that, they all turn and run off the porch like a pack of scared dogs.
“I’ll be calling your mother later,” I yell after them.
Peetsa just shakes her head. “I see you bring the same enthusiasm to everything that you do to being our class mom.”
“I know. I’m the worst.”
“You’re not the worst! I love your emails. I couldn’t wait to meet you. But I’m not surprised you piss some people off.”
“I didn’t even want to do it, but Nina knew it was the only way I was going to … Wait, who’s pissed off?”
Peetsa looks at her wineglass like it might have the answer.
“Umm … I don’t know, I’ve just heard a few people talking.”
I jump up.
“Who? What did they say? You have to tell me. I live for this stuff.”
Peetsa laughs. “You really are crazy.”
“I’m not! I’ve just been through this before, and I’m determined to get parents to lighten up.”
“Anyone who is even remotely cool totally gets your humor. You know who the stick-up-the-asses are—Asami, JJ, Kim Fancy, Ravital Brown…”
“Zach B.’s mom?” I ask, a little hurt.
Peetsa nods. “But I think she just doesn’t understand your sarcasm. She told me her husband has to explain all your emails to her.”
“Huh. Well, maybe I can win her over. Who else?”
“That’s all I know of. It’s a small but vocal bunch.”
“More wine?” I ask. I head to the kitchen, wondering how I can make an ESL person understand what snarky means.
“Sure, thanks. Hey, how’s your daughter?”
“Which one?”
“The slutty one.”
“Peetsa!” I scream in shock. “Please! We prefer ‘loose’ or ‘sleazy.’”
We both crack up.
“She’s doing fine. The nice thing about her generation is that they move on pretty quickly. Two days after her drama, some poor girl was snapped eating two hotdogs at once, so the spotlight is off Laura.”
“I still can’t believe you have two kids in college. Max must have been the shock of your life!”
I pour more wine for both of us and we head back to the chairs by the door.
“Not really. Ron wanted to have a kid.”
“Didn’t he already have two?” she asks, confused.
I inwardly cringe. This is the part I hate explaining to people.
The doorbell rings just as we sit down. Wow, sometimes you really are saved by the bell.
Peetsa jumps up.
“I’ve got it.”
She opens the door and I hear two little voices sing, “Trick or treat.”
“Do you have a trick to show me?” Peetsa asks them. I’ve taught her well.
Then a familiar voice says, “Hey, don’t we go to the same school?”
I nearly spit my wine out. Suchafox is at my front door! I jump up from my chair and sprint to stand beside Peetsa.
“Hey, guys!” I say a little too loudly. Lulu is dressed like a zombie bride, the other little girl is a nurse, and Don is wearing a cowboy hat. He looks perfect, of course. The butterflies in my stomach start doing a happy dance.
“Jen! No way. Do you guys live here?”
“I do.” Oh cripes, that giggle is back. “Peetsa is helping me out tonight. Do you guys know each other?”
“I definitely saw you at curriculum night,” Peetsa says to Don. She has a goofy smile on her face. “I’m Peetsa, Zach T.’s mom.”
“Peetsa?” Don asks, and once again I get a little glimpse into the hell that must be her world thanks to her unique name.
“Just like the food,” I offer. “P., this is Don Burgess. We went to high school together. Isn’t that crazy?” I giggle.
“Very,” Peetsa affirms.
I turn to him. “Do you live in this neighborhood?”
“No, we live west of here, but Lulu wanted to trick-or-treat with Rachel. It’s nuts. I don’t see you for, like, thirty years and now I see you all the time.”
“I know, right?” I giggle and offer the little girls the candy bowl.
“Wait!” says Peetsa. “What about the trick?” She turns to Don. “They’re supposed to do a trick to get a treat.”
“Really?” His look says it’s the dumbest idea he’s ever heard.
“Oh, P.!” Giggle. “Lighten up on the trick part, will you?” I smile at Don and shake my head like I don’t know what the hell she’s so uptight about. “Go ahead, girls.”
I avoid Peetsa’s glare as Lulu and Rachel dig into the candy bowl. They screech when the skeleton hand comes down to grab them and, after taking a handful of candy, they march down our front steps and onto the walkway. I glance toward Don and, for the briefest moment, I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. The thought is gone as quickly as it came, but I can’t help feeling a little uncomfortable. Peetsa interrupts my wayward thoughts.
“So you guys were friends in high school?”
“Well, we knew each other, but we didn’t really hang out,” I answer quickly.
“But there was one pretty significant moment in the P.E. laundry room.” He gives me a wry smile.
“Oh really?” She arches an eyebrow at me. “Tell me everything.”
Don lets out a guffaw. “And this is where I leave you!” He starts down the stairs to where the little girls are waiting for him. “See you around.”
I watch him walk away with what I’m sure is a ridiculous smile on my face. When I turn to go inside, Peetsa is staring at me.
“What?” I play dumb.
“That’s my question. What the hell was that all about?”
“He’s a father in our class.” I shrug.
“Yeah, so is Buddy, but you don’t act like that when he’s around. What was that giggle?”
I lead her back into the house while I explain.
“I had a huge crush on him in high school.”
“And apparently you still do.” She imitates my annoying giggle.
“P.! Be nice. He’s still so cute.”
“He must have been really something in high school.”
“He was such a fox.”
Peetsa bursts out laughing.
“God, I haven’t said that about anyone in years.” We sit back down on our chains. “So what happened in the P.E. laundry room?”
The doorbell rings again. I jump up to get it, thrilled to avoid Peetsa’s question. Maybe Suchafox forgot something!
I’m only a bit disappointed to see it’s not Don, but our sons standing there.
“Hey! How did it go?” I ask as they charge in with full bags of candy.
“Great! The Gibsons were giving out whole chocolate bars and we went twice. They didn’t even notice.” They start to dump their candy out on the living room floor.
Ron comes in, helmet in hand, looking shell-shocked.
“They ran the whole time. I didn’t even let them have candy.”
“Come have some wine, babe.”
“No, thanks. I need a shower.”
He heads upstairs and Peetsa gives Zach a ten-minute warning.
“Wheels up in ten, kiddo. Do your trading and put your stuff back in your bag.”
“Okay!” Zach yells from six feet away.
Peetsa looks at me and frowns.
“What were we talking about?”
I grab the chance to change the subject.
“What do you really think of Miss Ward?”
“No, wait! P.E. laundry room…”
I wince. “Some other time, okay?”
She looks surprised. “Oh! Okay.”
“So, Miss Ward, what do you think?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Zach loves her, that’s for sure.”
“So does Max! I just get a really weird feeling from her.”
“Well, you’d know. You spend the most time with her.”
“That’s just it. You’d think I would, because of the class mom thing. But honestly, I never see her and she told me at the beginning of the year that she doesn’t want me bothering her with”—I make finger quotes—“class-related stuff.”
Peetsa’s eyes pop.
“She said that?”
“Better. She wrote it in an email. That’s the only way she talks to me, and usually it’s only to tell me to do something like organize the parent/teacher conferences.”
“Is that normal? I’ve never been a class mom.”
“There’s really no normal. Every teacher is different. In the lower grades, they tend to want you helping out in the classroom as much as possible. But Miss Ward hasn’t asked me once.”
“Well, it’s only been two months. But it was kind of weird that the kids didn’t have a Halloween party. Did she say anything to you about that?”
I look at her over my wineglass.
“She said she doesn’t celebrate Hallmark holidays.”
Peetsa does a spit take.
“Oh, well, that makes sense,” she says, wiping wine off her chin. “Who would want to celebrate that great Hallmark holiday, Halloween?”
“I’m just wondering, when does she give a party?”
“Arbor Day?” Peetsa snickers.
“Groundhog Day!” I chime in.
We laugh as Peetsa gets up.
“Zach, let’s hit the road,” she calls to her son. “Hey, thanks for tonight. This was fun.”
“Best Halloween I’ve ever had,” I say. And I actually mean it.
* * *
In the bathroom, getting ready for bed, I mull over my lingering thought about kissing Don. I’ve never had a moment like that before, and it’s making me uncomfortable on several levels. It was so out of left field. I mean, I adore my husband and we still have a pretty great sex life even after ten years. Since the day we met, I’ve never even thought of being with another man … unless you count my Bruce Springsteen fantasies. While I brush my teeth, I close my eyes and try to put it out of my mind. One thing’s for certain, Ron Dixon is getting some tonight.