“Not that crazy for Halloween,” I replied, leaning down to embrace him in a hug before leaning into my mother.
“Your table is over there, we only have thirty minutes for you to get set up,” my mother pointed at my station, blocking my hug. Her greeting, or lack thereof, threw me off, but I wouldn’t dare pry with so many messy ears tuned in. We’d been doing wonderful, but something felt off, and I didn’t have an inkling on what it could be.
Pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I went to set up my face painting station. My parents paid for me to take a face painting class in high school, and I had been the church’s face painter ever since. That was a part of why I went to schoolto become a teacher, and worked with the elementary aged kids for so long. They were vibrant, unfiltered, and full of child-like innocence that was stomped out of me many moons ago.
Gospel music, kids screaming and giggling, and chatter filled the distance. The Fall Festival always brought out more than my father’s parishioners; the entire city would stop by because they were also giving away free food. It was the church’s most successful outreach event every year. I finished up a beautiful Hello Kitty masterpiece and smiled at my artistry.
“Do you mind if I take a picture for my portfolio? I don’t post on social media or anything like that, but this is my first Hello Kitty face,” I asked the parents, holding up my binder of past work.
“Of course, that’s fine,” the mom nodded.
I lifted my phone from the table and snapped a few quick pictures. “Thank you for sitting so still, beautiful. I hope you have lots of fun tonight,” I chirped.
“Thank you, Ms. Elise,” she bubbled, bouncing out of the plastic chair in front of me.
While I stuffed my phone back into my pocket, I felt the next child plop down in my seat. I looked up and paused when I saw my childhood arch nemesis, Faith. She wore a pair of black scrubs that exposed the sleeve of tattoos crawling up her cinnamon brown skin. There was even a massive flower tattoo on the front of her neck, inked into one of the most agonizing looking places on the body. Swallowing my disdain, I smiled at the little boy in the chair. He was about four or five years old and looked just like Faith. Lucky for him, his mother’s ugly spirit didn’t match her pretty face.
“Hi handsome, what would you like today?” I greeted him just like I did all the other kids. The fact that I couldn’t stand his mother wouldn’t change that.
“Can you do Spider-Man?” He lit up, flashing me the cutest smile with his adorable deep dimples.
“Of course,” I beamed, spraying the soiled brush with an alcohol solution and placing its bristles up to dry. “You have Spider-Man on your shoes and your shirt, he must be your all time fave.”
“Yeah, he’s the best. I wish I could shoot webs like him.”
“KASHEWWWWWW!”
He groaned, extending his arm to mimic the infamous web shooting super power.
“I’d go from tree to tree,” he fantasized, pointing at the trees.
“I can tell you would be amazing jumping from tree to tree,” I affirmed.
After sanitizing my hands, I grabbed a brush, my paint palette, and got to work. Little man put me in my feelings more than I already was, had me missing my elementary aged babies. We conversed about Spider-Man, a few other superheroes, and a couple of other things he liked. I felt Faith shooting me daggers the entire time, but I chose to ignore her. She was still a weirdo, and I usually avoided her because she stopped attending my father’s church after our freshman year of college. Eight months after the judgmental undertones Faith’s mother hurled at the gynecologist’s office, her own daughter gave birth to a baby boy rumored to have been conceived on prom night. This clearly wasn’t that child; he was far too young. Plus, I’d heard he was raised by some of her family members in Pasco County or something like that. When she was prepared to return to college, her scholarships dried up, and I had no idea what transpired in her life after that.
My eyes wandered to Faith’s ring finger, and it was just as naked as the day she was born, not a tan line in sight. I scolded myself for the judgmental thoughts, but it was hard because of the hell Faith put me through when we were younger.Nonetheless, I told myself to do better. I was trying to unlearn the judgment my parents had raised me on. The same judgment I allowed to dictate my life.
“You’re all done,” I announced, lifting the mirror so he could see his reflection.
The sun was beaming on him, making the face paint absolutely blinding.
“Mom, I’m Spider-Man,” he celebrated, pointing both index fingers at his face.
“Yeah, you look amazing,” Faith gushed over him, then turned her attention to me. “You don’t want a picture of my baby for your lil binder?” She snipped, helping her son out of the chair.
“No, I already have a few Spider-Man pictures in my book,” I declined, spraying the soiled brush and switching it out for a different one.
“You still have your nose tooted up like you’re God’s gift to earth, huh?”
“No, that’s your own insecurities talking,” I quipped.
“Insecure?” She sputtered, her raised voice resounding through the outdoor space. I instantly regretted dignifying her statement with a response, because I knew the drama would ensue and I wanted no parts of it. “You just called me insecure?”
“Faith, please just leave my table. You’re causing an unnecessary scene and scaring your son,” I urged, watching the concern wash over his handsome little face.
“Oh, and you think you can tell me how to be a mother when the last time I checked, you don’t have any kids! Probably never will, who would want to fuck your prude ass? Let’s go, Marlon,” she ranted, snatching her son out of the chair. Faith intentionally knocked over the cup of water I used to clean my brushes, sending the murky water straight into my lap.
“Yeah, great example you are for your son, Faith,” I snapped, standing from the table to avoid the continuous trickle of water.
