Page 11 of Pumpkin to Talk About

What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

Chapter 7

Mike

We finish setting up the haunted library on Wednesday. The “eyes” are disgusting, but I manage to peel my share of the grapes with only a little gagging. Belle seems happy to have the extra help. At the end of our last day, she sighs contentedly and smiles at me. It simultaneously makes me feel like I’ve won the lottery and want to draw more of those happy sighs out of her in indecent ways.

I spend most of the day Thursday fixing up Annie’s nail studio so she can see clients again and trying not to think about Belle’s sparkling, blue-violet eyes and berry-red lips.

Nicholas decides he wants to be a dalmatian, and Claire has her heart set on being a butterfly, so I pick them up from school under the guise of taking them to the store for costume supplies. Really, I’m hoping to catch a glimpse of Belle, even though she said she isn’t in the library on Thursdays.

Annie and I work on the kids’ costumes late into the night. We toil mostly in silence, but it’s nice to see her up and participating in life. She heads to bed before I do. On her way, she lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it affectionately. Her nail polish has been re-applied—orange and purple this time—and I smile softly at her self-care.

When my phone dings the next morning, I can barely move. I somehow managed to face-plant into the couch the night before, and when I crack an eye open, it looks like Halloween threw up on the floor of the living room. I had been too tired to clean up last night.

“Uncle Mike! Look at me!” Claire’s high-pitched voice pierces through my early-morning haze. I squint both eyes open to see her in the butterfly costume, giant orange-and-black wings bobbing behind her as she bounces on her toes. I worked hard on the frames for those things, and seeing her love them fills my heart with joy.

Nicholas is also wearing his costume—complete with spots painted on his face—when he comes crawling into the living room. He woofs a few times, then pants and chomps his teeth as if to bite Claire’s leg. She screams, and I wince.

“Too early for that,” I groan as I push myself up to sitting. I’m still in my clothes from the night before, too. Who knew pseudo-parenting would be kind of like spending the night at a bar, except without the booze.

Annie’s raspy laughter fills the room. I look over to see her hair done, clothes on, and face fully made up. I smile at that, too. My baby sister’s back.

“Let’s let Uncle Mike get back to his beauty sleep,” she says. “Come on, kids. Time for school.”

I scrub my face with my palm, trying to rub some life into it. “You’re letting them wear their costumes to school?”

All three of them stare at me as if I grew a third eye. “It’s Friday,” Nicholas says as if that means something.

“And?” I ask.

“Next weekend is Halloween,” Claire supplies unhelpfully.

“Okay…”

Annie finally comes to my rescue. “The school always does their Halloween parties the weekend before Halloween so everyone is free to go to the celebration downtown on actual Halloween.” She leans in to mutter the next part, as if the kids can’t hear her. “They hop the kids up on sugar before letting them run around at the trunk-or-treat and haunted house. It’s a win-win.”

“At the trunk-or-treat where they… get more sugar?” I narrow my eyes at her as if it should be obvious why this is a terrible idea.

She shrugs. “It’s Halloween. Live a little.”

My phone dings again from where I left it charging across the room. Annie shuffles the kids out the door, and it’s suddenly, blissfully silent. I shove myself off the couch, my joints cracking like a Halloween glow stick, and pull my phone off the charger. My heart skips when I see two messages from Belle lighting up my screen.

Belle: I need your help.

Belle: Chase called in sick today. He has the flu. He was supposed to be the monster behind Mystery Door 2. Can you fill in?

I want to help Belle more than I hate the idea of participating in a haunted house. It’s for kids, right? How bad could it be to dress up like a monster and shout boo when they open a door?

Eyeing the remnants of the Halloween costumes on the floor, I text back:

Mike: Sure thing. I can think of something.

The three dots dance at the bottom of the screen, then disappear, then reappear again before a message comes through.

Belle: You could just go as yourself. No costume necessary.

I throw my head back and cackle. Oh, it’s on now. If she wants a monster, I’ll give her a monster.