A Perfect Halloween

 

The truck hit a pot hole, and because the shocks were shot to shit it made her stomach feel like it might flip out of her mouth. As if her stomach wasn’t already a mess of nerves.

“Big bump!” her son yelled excitedly from the back seat of the pickup, where he was safely but very snuggly fitted into his car seat within the quarter cab’s back seat.

“Big bump” Adrienne repeated, trying to sound cheery. She had her Halloween playlist streaming through the speakers courtesy of a bluetooth transmitter powered by the cigarette lighter socket (yes, the truck was that old, but she preferred “classic”). It was the same playlist she had put together back in grad school and was heavy on The Misfits and Rob Zombie, so she had to monitor carefully to skip quite a few of the songs that weren’t four-year-old appropriate. The playlist landed on “Turkish Song of the Damned” by The Pogues which passed her censorship guidelines, while still allowing her to feel a little edgy.

“A little edgy” was all Adrienne had these days. She was nearly a year divorced, dealing with the financial fallout of a manchild ex-husband, and drowning in a job that bored her to tears but was also her only lifeline to get onto the next chapter of life. A better chapter of life she told herself, but it was hard to feel optimistic this Halloween evening. 

She had absolutely loved Halloween all her life. As a child it was the homemade costumes her parents would help her construct, and the parties with donuts on strings, and of course the candy apples and hordes of treats. As a teenager that Halloween fascination shifted into a gothic fixation; every day was Halloween with baggy black jeans adorned by heavy chains, dark layers of eye makeup, and an unhealthy love for all things Tim Burton. By college Adrienne progressed that gothic look to emo-chic, with Halloween party costumes that artfully combined sexy with gruesome, and of course oodles of jello shots and special brownies.

She had been thrilled to experience Halloween as a mom. Throughout her pregnancy she often daydreamed about the costumes she would make for her son, and the parties she would host (donuts on strings included). But the reality of a millennial mom had sorely disappointed. Even when her son Charlie was one, it was clear that the whole scene had changed. Halloween somehow turned into a whole week of “spirit days” at daycare, with different outfit demands each day. Her creative side was excited about this at first, but as soon as she rolled into the school with a hand-me-down Halloween outfit that already had spit up on it she discovered that all the other kids were decked head-to-toe in garb that still had that “new from Amazon” smell, and she felt totally lame.

That had only been the start. The hand crafted Halloween gifts (clearly not from the one-year-olds whose names adorned the tags, but from their very zealous mothers), the “hand sewn” costumes, the picture perfect autumn family frolics in expansive backyards… it was tiresome as fuck. And it wasn’t just the suburban moms of her community; it seemed every girl she had ever done those jello shots with back in college was now flooding her feed with adorable and “easy” Halloween crafts (only 25 simple steps, not including cleanup!). 

She was letting herself get bitter, circling the “compare and despair” drain, and it nearly ruined the holiday for her. But in a brilliant moment of lucidity inspired by the local dispensary, she decided late on September night just before her son turned two, that she would re-claim Halloween. They would partake in the traditions that fit them, and just let the rest go. Say “thank you” for the goodie bags, but not feel bad about failing to reciprocate. Make costumes that brought them joy, even if they weren’t picture perfect.

That had worked for two years, but quite tragically her son had made friends with a little boy in his pre-school class named Aaron Dale. And why wouldn’t he; Aaron Dale was the most cherubic four year old ever born. White blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a smile that melted even the grumpiest of old men. He was brilliant beyond his age, polite, and seemed genuinely thoughtful. Not the “have a nice day mama” kinda thoughtful; full out “I like your new earrings Miss Adrienee” thoughtful. Which weirded her out. That may sound judgey but he was four, and yes, she found it a little creepy.

But when she sat with herself (which was all she could do since therapy costs were presently out of the question), she recognized a bit of a salty bitch mixed into that judgement. The Dales were the perfect family. Two beautiful, intelligent, kind children. A mother whose body looked like it couldn’t have possibly produced two children, but who somehow oozed maternal instinct from every pore. A father with the jawline of a God (or Tom Brady) who clearly made enough money that he would never know what “shot to shit shocks” felt like, but was still full of humor and happy to star in whatever silly (and picturesque) family shenanigans his wife and kids put him up to.

Adrienne knew all this because the mother, Tricia Dale, had friended her on Facebook months ago, along with a far too kind message about how Aaron and Charlie had become absolute besties at pre-school and she would love to set up a play date. Adrienne had been dodging and dreading the idea of a playdate with the Dales. Tricia made her feel like a frumpy loser and while she knew she should suck it up for her son, it was an agonizing prospect to spend a whole evening with reminders of how she was gaining weight, still didn’t know how to properly apply makeup, and had at least three overdue bills that could probably be paid off with a single knick knack from the Dale family mantle.

Yet here they were, pulling up to “Casa de Dale” (yes, they actually called it that), for a Halloween party. As soon as she parked Adrienne took a long swig from her off-brand Stanley, which was mostly filled with vodka. She checked her hair in the truck’s rear view mirror and immediately regretted it. She smoothed out her Halloween t-shirt, which read “No matter how fast you run, Michael Myers can walk faster”. A horror nerd joke that helped her cling to that “I’m still edgy and cool” fantasy. Because nothing makes you cool like a joke only you get.

“Ready Mr. Potato Head?” she asked Charlie, who was dressed like the classic Hasbro toy. He was too excited to get his car seat unbuckled so she assisted and he bounded from the truck with the energy of a boy who had already eaten all of his Halloween candy.

Casa de Dale was even more impressive than the online pictures suggested. A sprawling colonial that still had its historic bones but plenty of modern touches. The ultimate tell of “we got that old money but we are still making it rain”. Behind the house rolled probably endless acres of forest that seemed to have been hand designed for optimal foliage. The lawn was decorated with all sorts of spooky Halloween artifacts, but somehow it wasn’t corny. The white washed front of the home had neon orange, green, and purple lights splashed up at it, and from some mysterious outdoor speaker “Monster Mash” played. As they approached the house Adrienne felt her nerves dial up to a ten, and while she was a socially anxious person this level of panic felt a bit much even for her. She had a sudden desire to grab her baby close and run back to the truck. But now the Dales were opening the door as a family of four and it was too late.

“Trick or treat” they all greeted in unison, and it was almost sing-song in its perfection. As she pondered whether they had rehearsed this, Charlie threw himself into Aaron’s arms and the two hugged like long lost twins finally reunited.

“Um, happy halloween” Adrienne said, feeling awkward and taking a quick sip from the trusty water bottle. The Dales were dressed as a family of vampires, with the husband in son in matching classic Dracula suits, and the wife and daughter in matching “vampiress” dresses, though Tricia’s sported a diving neckline that highlighted an ample cleavage.

“We are SO thrilled you guys could make it, come in, come in!” Tricia greeted, and Adrienne stepped into a foyer that was probably half the size of her current apartment. Maybe more than half. Mr. Dale shook her hand warmly and asked about the kids showing Charlie their playroom. His voice was so deep and sultry that Adrienne may have held on to his hand a moment too long. Embarrassed, she finally nodded and then floated after Tricia towards the kitchen, which was another monument to American capitalism.

“Beautiful home” Adrienne said, wishing she could turn into a ghost  and vanish, as is appropriate of the holiday.

“Thank you!” Tricia said, and her genuine appreciation for the compliment caught Adrienne off guard. “You know, I always wanted a big home, I guess that’s why I became a lawyer. But sometimes I kind of miss the little cottage I grew up in with my Dad.” She shrugged like it was almost embarrassing. Adrienne just thought about the fact that this woman was a lawyer on top of everything else and wanted to die. Best way to become a ghost she mused.

“Happy to trade places” Adrienne replied, and she hated herself and vodka that had elicited the pathetic phrase immediately.

Tricia didn’t give her a look of pity; she smiled a perfect white smile. “I might just take you up on that. I’ve seen your posts; you and that little boy of yours have the most amazing bond! You are clearly such a creative mom, I’m jealous.”

What. the. Actual. Fuck. Adrienne thought. How this woman with the most perfect of absolutely everything could say such bullshit to her face in such a genuine way was a real Halloween trick. But was it also a treat? They say flattery gets you nowhere, but in that moment Adrienne suddenly had a burning desire to be best friends with Tricia Dale. A scenario played on in her mind where Adrienne starred in the role of the grounded, always practical bestie, and Tricia was the glamorous one who got them into high class, hilarious escapades, but always needed Adrienne’s common sense to bail them out.

The smile fell from Adrienne’s face when she realized how pathetic that was. Tricia clearly noticed the change in mood and said “how do you feel about wine? The rest of the party is arriving soon, and I could sure use a glass.”

When Tricia mentioned the “rest of the party” Adrienne suddenly realized there was nobody there except them and the Dales. Charlie had received a beautifully crafted Halloween card in his take-home folder inviting them to a Halloween party. And while he couldn’t read much yet, Aaron had been sure to regale him with all the fun they would have. The house was dripping with bats, spiders, and fake cobwebs. Platter of beautifully arranged food covered practically every surface. So where was the rest of the party?

Adrienne was on edge again and for a moment everything took on a sinister note. Where was Charlie? Where was that handsome yet forgettable husband? The house seemed too expansive, too quiet. She looked at Tricia and saw something sharp and metal in her hand. She jumped before realizing it was just a cork screw. 

A moment later the doorbell rang and Tricia sighed, “here comes the crowd!”. She poured them each a glass of wine while her husband let the guests in; a flood of kids and colorful costumes and moms in dads in couples attire. In a split moment that too big kitchen suddenly felt too small and Adrienne drifted away as Tricia greeted her guests with gracious excitement and words dripping with charm. Adrienne went to look for Charlie.

She sipped the wine to calm her nerves. Wine was not her drink of choice, and after a few sips she decided that was enough. She found Charlie in the playroom; a downright magical wing of the house with every toy imaginable, somehow all neatly organized. The level of cleanliness and organization gave her another wave of disorientation; like something wasn’t right, something wasn’t real. But the kids were all so happy and Charlie gave her a big hug, so she set her nerves aside.

She realized she had left her water bottle of fortitude in the kitchen, but right now the best medicine was watching Charlie play. He was showing her seemingly every toy in the room; how they worked, what they did. And then suddenly she blinked and they were trick or treating out on the dark suburban street.

The world spinned around her for a moment as she tried to grab hold of the sudden change in setting. She must have spaced out; there was always so much on her mind these days that time could escape her and being present was a constant struggle. She reached down to her little Mr. Potato Head and rubbed his head, feeling reassured by the solidity of his presence. He smiled up at her and she grinned back. “How much candy have you got so far?” she asked, trying to keep the panic from her voice.

“I got four … thousand I think” he said, but looking in the vintage McDonald’s Halloween bucket she had dredged up from her childhood, she could see the answer was less than a dozen. So she hadn’t zoned out too long. Still; she wasn’t entirely sure where they were. Casa de Dale was nowhere to be seen and in a maze of look alike suburban homes she had no basis for how they had gotten to this exact point. Around her little devils and witches and ghosts whirled. They were just children in costumes but they swirled nearer and nearer they looked too real; the ghosts seemed to be translucent and mournful, the witches and devils stared at her with glowing red eyes. Adrienne clutched her son to her, trying to make it look playful but freaking out inside. The Halloween lights of the neighboring houses blurred and grew to a cacophony of light and she could barely see as they moved forward.

It snapped all back to focus as her son yelled “trick or treat!” and she saw a kindly elderly woman drop a handful of candy in his bucket. Suddenly Adrienne could feel the cool late October air on her face; smell the nostalgic tang of falling leaves upon air. She came back to herself and had one thought; the bitch laced my wine.

Adrienne was no stranger to psychotropic drugs; at least in her youth. She occasionally enjoyed a weed gummy after Charlie was asleep, but back in the day she had dabbled with acid and a few of its friends. She remembered the way it could roll in like waves, overtaking her every sensation, and then subside in a moment, making reality feel like a fleeting and intangible thing. She felt certain Tricia Dale had put something in that drink she had barely sipped, and it was a tremendous moment of panic to know she was tripping while being the solely responsible parent for a young child.

Keeping a smile plastered to her face she took her son hurriedly to the next house and got her phone from her pocket, frantically attempting to order an Uber before she faded back out of reality. She got the app open as Charlie waited his turn to receive a full sized candy bar. She clicked the button to request a ride and she felt the edges of her vision fade. She was losing lucidity and the panic crept in.

Stay focused, she told herself over and over again. She felt herself click a button, but then it all faded away and she was in the kitchen of Casa de Dale all over again. Tricia stood in the exact same spot she had earlier, sporting her sexy vampire dress and looking at Adrienne with concern. Adrienne felt like she had fallen out of time; had any of it been real?

“Are you okay sweetie?” Tricia asked, the bottle of red wine in her hand. The wine Adrienne recalled. She put something in the wine.

“Y- you drugged me” Adrienne sputtered. “The wine... you did something to me.”

Tricia gave her a confused worried look, and for a moment Adrienne was certain she was about to find out she had gone mad. That all the stress and doubt and self hatred the had felt this past year had pushed her over the edge and she was having a full on mental breakdown in front of America’s most perfect family. But then Tricia’s face began to change.

The look of confusion gave way to a wide grin, a psychotic and sadistic smile that was too wide for her angular face. So wide that it began to tear at the seams, ripping the flawless skin around her lips away and revealing nothing but white bone beneath. The grin split her face down the middle, her eyes drifting apart and changing from sparkling green to something yellow and muddy. The face beneath the skin that was shedding away like a layer of latex paint was not the face of a human.

Adrienne wanted to scream but nothing came to her throat, and her feet felt cemented to the floor despite every fiber of her body telling her to run. Where is Charlie? she wondered frantically. Oh Dear God, where is my son?

Despite the feeling like she had an apple shoved down her throat, Adrienne managed to utter the trembling small words, “where is my boy?”.

Tricia, or whatever she had become stopped smiling. The monster before Adrienne spoke in the same sweet tones as Tricia, but her perfect white teeth were now jagged snarls of bone that resembled shards of glass jutting from blood red gums. “Oh I don’t know sweetie, you lost him!” the monster replied, the tone dripping with false sympathy.

Adrienne was scared in a way she never would have thought possible. A lifetime of loving horror stories and films had never prepared her for how it might feel to actually face something so unnatural, something that exuded such evil. Yet in spite of this she knew one thing; her son was not missing, she had not lost him. She could feel it to the depth of her soul; somewhere in those blank spaces in her memory she had gotten him to safety. Adrienne realized the best thing she could do to keep Charlie safe was to stop talking about him with this creature. So instead she asked, “where is your own family?”.

The monster grinned again and it was a horror to behold. “Oh, they are exhausted from all the fun. They’re just… hanging out” she gestured a still normal, manicured human hand towards the open closet at the far end of the kitchen. Adrienne told herself not to look, but it was as if she had no control. Slowly her head turned in the direction indicated and there in the dimly lit closet was what appeared to be three empty human suits dangling from the coat rack, like each family member had simply removed their skin and put them on clothes hangers.

This time Adrienne did scream, but it was more like a a guttural sob as that was the only sound that could escape the blockage in her throat. “What did you do to them?” she asked, each word causing her physical pain to speak.

“Nothing,” the creature shrugged and the casual gesture of the sexy human body only emphasized the horror that was the wreckage of the face.  “They aren’t real. None of this is real. I just needed a Halloween treat.” The muddy eyes had been lilting in different direction, seemingly unseeing. But now the black orbs of the irises swam about until they focused on Adrienne. “You’re my treat. I wasn’t lying when I said I admire the bond you share with your son. That kind of devotion makes souls so very tasty. It was a real pain throwing this whole party just to finally get you in my grasp, but you have to admit I am quite good at it.”

The monster was toying with her and Adrienne knew that it wasn’t the wine that was spiked; the creature had been playing around in her head, peeling back layers like reading a magazine. Or perusing a menu. Now she couldn’t move, could barely speak, was fully controlled by this demon. She had to distract it, had to get loose. But how could she fight a creature that could manifest whole beings? This creature had poured its energy into the creation of an entire perfect little fake family, all so it could have a tasty snack. This was less monster and more God, and the thought made her feel beyond helpless.

Yet she thought of Charlie, and she refused to be weak. She refused to let this thing win. Refused to let it make her feel "less than", make her feel small. Like a mother pulling a car off a trapped child, she found a well of absurd strength. She used it to find the water bottle of vodka that was still on the table where she had left it.

She grabbed the handle and flung the mug at the monster’s horrific face. The thing about the off brand Stanley was that the lid never fit on snug after it’s first trip into the dishwasher, so it came bursting off and a healthy pour of vodka went straight into those murky yellow eyes.

Adrienne wasn’t sure if the vodka actually hurt the creature or just caught it by surprise, but whatever resulted provided enough of a lapse in time for the psychic hold to waver and Adrienne’s feet came unglued from the floor. She ran to the foyer and despite the raging sound of her heart slamming in her chest, she could hear the far off sound of a horn blaring. She had a terrible premonition that it was some kind of alarm, calling more monsters to the Tricia beast’s aid. Still, she ran faster than she knew she was able and she threw open the front door, scampering into the dark night air.

All of the Halloween decorations had gone dark and dormant and she tripped over a fake tombstone, sending her sprawling across the manicured front lawn. “What the hell Adrienne?” said a familiar voice, and she looked up to see her ex parked in front of Casa de Dale. She could truly say she had never been so happy to see him.

She scrambled, half crawling to the car and her ex helped her, looking puzzled and terrified. Charlie was in the back seat of the old sedan, fast asleep. Adrienne took one glance back to the massive colonial, just in time to see Tricia, looking like Tricia again, frowning darkly from the front steps. “DRIVE!” Adrienne screamed, and this time it was a real, full throated scream. Her ex floored the accelerator, pushing all four cylinders to their limit.

As they made their escape he told her about the call she had apparently made, a rambling and drunken sounding call in which she said she couldn’t get an Uber and needed him to come right away, that she had been drugged. As they left the slumbering suburbs for the bright lights of the city center he said “I never liked that Dale guy, the husband. He was always friendly at pick up, but he just seemed so fake.”

And Adrienne laughed until she cried.