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Noel
“Itwasadarkandstormynight…”Iwhisperinasinistervoice,staring
withwideeyesatthesceneinfrontofme.
“Noit’snot.It’sactuallyaverylovelyfallevening.Notacloudin
sight.”
Iturntofacemyhusband,Sam,crossingmyarmsovermychest
andabovemygiantpregnantstomach,whichseemstohavegrownten
timeslargerinthelastweek.I’mthirty-five-years-old,withlong,dark-
redhairandgreeneyes.IusedtothinkIwasquitepretty,untilI
turnedintoabeachedwhalewithswollenankles.Standingnexttomy
husband,whoisayearolderthanI—withhisgorgeousblue-grayeyes;
short,dark-brownhair;andfantasticmuscularbuild,thankstothe
Marines—it’shardtorememberthatIwasonceskinnyandhotand
lookedlikeaperfectmatchformysexyhusband.
“Workwithmehere.I’mtryingtosetthetoneforwhenItellour
childthisstory.IfIdon’tinjecttherightamountofscarydetails,heor
shewillnevertrulyunderstandthehorrorofwhatwe’relookingat
rightnow.”
Samcockshisheadtotheside,studyingtheyardwe’recurrently
standingattheedgeofwhileIstudyhisprofile.Istillcan’tbelievehe’s
myhusband,eventhoughwe’vebeenmarriedalmostayearandahalf.
He’stoohotforhisowngood,andI’mahotmesswithanasscovered
instretchmarks.
“It’snotthatbad,”hemutters.
Ishakemyheadathimandthen,addingsociopathicmoodswings
tomymentallistofpregnancy-relatedproblems,fantasizeabout
jammingaknifeintohisskullandcarvingitlikeapumpkin.
“Notthatbad?!”Iargue,myvoicerisingafewoctavesasIflingone
armout,gesturingaroundmyparents’frontyard.“Myfather
decoratedhisyardwithhundredsofclowns.CLOWNS,Sam.Scary,
creepy,makeup-wearing,red-nosed,big-shoedCLOWNS.Thisisthe
stuffnightmaresaremadeof.”
Ishudder,wrappingmyarmsaroundmyself,wishingIcouldunsee
thisshit.Thereareclownscutoutofwoodandpainted;mannequins
dressedasclowns;stuffedclowns;blow-up-dollclowns…everysize
youcanimagine,fromonefoottalltotenfeettall.They’rescatteredall
aroundtheyard.Mydadisslightlyobsessedwithdecoratingforevery
holiday,whichmakessense,Iguess,sinceourlastnameis,literally,
Holiday.WhenIbroughtSamhomeforChristmastheyearwemet,he
thoughtwewerepullinguptoanairportrunway,withallthebright,
flashinglightsallovertheyard.Myfather’sValentine’sDay
decorationscovereveryinchoftheyard;alltheredheartsmakeitlook
likethehouseisbleedingontothegrass.TheentirestateofOhiowent
throughaflagshortagetheyearheboughtalltheAmericanflagsthat
hangfromthesidingandporchrailingontheFourthofJuly.
Buthehastakenthisyear’sneighborhoodHalloweendecorating
contesttoahorrifyinglevel.OneI’llneverbeabletoerasefrommy
mind;I’llseeiteverytimeIclosemyeyes.
“It’sabouttimeyougothere!”
Iturntowatchmydadjogdownthefrontporchsteps—whichare
litteredwithgiantredclownshoesandjack-o’-lanterns—andhurry
acrossthelawntowardus,dodgingallthe…clowns.
Jesus.Ican’tevenTHINKthatwordwithoutgettingthechills.
Dadispracticallybouncingwithexcitementbythetimehegetsto
us,hisfeetcrunchingthroughthefallenleavesashestandsnexttome
andnodsatthetwoofuswithahugesmileonhisface.Atfifty-seven,
mydadisaprettyhandsomeman,standingatjustaboutmyhusband’s
six-footstature,withafullheadofsalt-and-pepperhair.
“HellodarlingNoel,helloAsshole
-
Who
-
Defiled
-
My
-
Daughter…
so,whatdoyouthinkoftheyard?”
Iletoutasighandshakemyheadathim.
“Dad,forthehundredthtime,Samismyhusbandanddidnot
defileme.Can’tyoujustbehappyaboutbeingagrandfatheragain,like
anormalhumanbeing?”Mybrotherandhiswifealreadyhadababy,a
girlnamedHolly,andneitheroneofthemhadtosufferthroughthis
kindofsarcasticabusefrommyfather.Mypoorhusbanddeservesa
medal.
Hewrapshisarmaroundmyshoulderandkissesthesideofmy
head.
“OfcourseI’mhappyaboutbecomingagrandfatheragain.But
you’remybabygirl.AndI’dprefertothinkofthisasanimmaculate
conception.OtherwiseIwillhaveaheartattackanddie,picturinghow
itactuallyhappened.Doyouwantmetodie,Noel?”hedemandsinhis
usual,dramaticfashion.“Doyou?!”
“Speakingofheartattacks,”Imutter,changingthesubjectbefore
mydadreallydoeskillhimselfthinkingabouthowIgotpregnant.
“Why,fortheloveofGod,didyoudecoratetheyardwithclowns?No
onelikesclowns,Dad.Noone.You’reluckyyourneighborshaven’t
burnedyourhousedowninprotest.”
Dadscoffsandrollshiseyesatme.
“Don’tbesilly.Clownsarefun.Everyonelovesclowns.”
Aloud,bloodcurdlingscream,followedbythemostmiserable-
soundingwails,makesallthreeofusturnaroundtofindawomanand
alittleboystandingafewfeetaway,onthesidewalk.Theboyhashis
facepressedintothewoman’ssideashecontinuescrying,andthey
rushpastmyparents’house.
“Clowns,Reggie?Really?Youshouldbeashamedofyourself,”the
womanmutters,hurryingdownthesidewalkwithherdistraughtchild.
“YOU’REJUSTJEALOUSBECAUSEYOURFRONTYARDLOOKS
LIKEAMONKEYTOOKASHITONIT,SUSAN!”mydadyellsafter
her.“EVERYONELOVESCLOWNS,ANDI’MGOINGTOPROVEIT
WHENIWINTHISCONTESTFORTHETENTHYEARINAROW!”
Ishouldprobablybeembarrassedthatmydadisscreamingatone
ofhispoorneighbors,butIwasraisedbythisman.It’snotthefirst
timeI’veseenhimturnintoaraginglunaticinpublic,anditcertainly
won’tbethelast.Hetakeseveryholidaydecoratingcontestvery
seriously.Hestartscomingupwithideasandbuildingthingsforhis
HalloweendisplayinFebruary.Withallofthechildrenonthestreet,
hedoesn’tlikedoinganythingscary,andusuallygoeswithsomething
fun.Oneyearitwasacarnivaltheme,withaticketboothandfun
carnivalgamesforkids.AnotheryearitwasaCharlieBrowntheme.
Lastyear,hewentwithaMickeyMouse/Disneytheme.Allsweetand
innocentfun.Butclownsareanythingbutsweetandinnocent,and
clearlyhe’slosthismind.
“Idon’tknow,Reggie.Thathouseacrossthestreetmightbegiving
youarunforyourmoney,”Samstates.
MydadstartsgrumblingandcursingunderhisbreathasIlook
overatthehouseSamistalkingabout.Ican’thelpthedreamysigh
thatescapesme.They’vedecoratedinaNightmareBeforeChristmas
theme.It’soneofmyabsolutefavoritemovies,andthedisplayis
amazing.
There’sahugeJackSkellingtonandSallyrightinthemiddleofthe
yard,withagiantlight-upmoonbehindthem,andsmallerwooden
figurinesofeveryothercharacterarescatteredallaroundthegrass,
fromDoctorFinkelsteinandthemayorofHalloweenTown,toOogie
Boogieandtheghostdog,Zero.Thereareorangeandwhitespotlights
oneverywoodencharacter,andatleastahundredcarvedpumpkins
distributedaroundtheentiredisplay.
Mydreamysighdoesn’tonlyhavetodowiththedecorations,
though.Italsohastodowiththehouseitself.I’velovedthathouse
sinceIwasalittlegirl.It’sjustatypical,two-storycolonial,butthe
wraparoundfrontporch,professionallandscaping,andhuge,fenced-
inbackyardmadeitmydreamhouse.Ialwaysimaginedthatsomeday
I’dgetmarried,buythathouse,andraisemyfamilythere.
“Thatyardlookslikehorseshit,”myfathermuttersinirritation.
“Theydidn’tevenputanyworkintoit.Theyjustwentouttotheclosest
Halloweenstoreandboughteverythingtheycouldfind.Iputmy
blood,sweat,andtearsintomydisplay.”
“Clearly.Thebloodwhenallthosecreepy-assclownscometolife
andstabyouinyoursleep,thesweatwhenyou’retryingtooutrun
them,andthetearswhentheymurderyourentirefamily,”Iinform
him.
Mydadignoresmeandcontinuestoglareattheyardacrossthe
street.
“Didyouknowthathousesoldinlessthantwoweeks?Ihaven’t
evenmetthenewownersyet,andthey’vebeenthereforamonth.
Whatkindofpeoplemoveintoaneighborhood,trytoendmyreignas
HalloweenDecoratorKing,anddon’tevencomeoverandintroduce
themselves?Monsters,that’swho,”Dadcomplains.
Ican’thelpthewaveofsadnessthatwashesovermewhenIthink
abouthowmydreamhousewentonthemarketandsoldbeforeIeven
knewitwasavailable.WhenSamandIgotengaged,wemovedintohis
house,sinceIwasunemployedandlivingwithmyparentsatthetime.
Don’tgetmewrong,wehaveareallygreathouse.It’saranch,witha
bigyard.AndSamletmedowhateverIwantedwithitwhenImoved
in.Idolovewherewelive,outinthemiddleofnowhere—butit’sthirty
minutesawayfrommyfamily.Onewouldthink,ascrazyasmyfamily
is,thatI’dbeperfectlyfinelivingfarenoughawayfromthemthatthey
can’tcomeovereveryfiveminutesandbringtheircrazyrighttomy
frontdoor.Myoverprotectivefather,whostillhasn’tadjustedtome
beingagrownwomanwithahusbandandababyontheway;my
overbearingmother,whotalksaboutsexmorethananymother
should;andmyAuntBobbie,whousedtobemyUncleRobert,and
neverleaveshomewithoutwearingasparklingeveninggown,afull
faceofmakeup,andawig,areentirelytoomuchcrazyforonefamilyto
handle.Atleastmyolderbrother,Nicholas,andhiswife,Casey,helpto
balanceoutthenormal.
AndwhileayearagoitmighthavebeentruethatI’dwanttobeas
farawayfromthemaspossible,nowthatSamandIareabouttohavea
baby,thirtyminutesawayseemslikethirtyhours.WhatifSam’sat
workandthere’sanemergency?Andhe’saMarine—whatifhegets
deployedagain?I’llbeahalfhourawayfrommysupportsystem.
“Maybethenewneighborsliketokeeptothemselves.I’msure
they’reverynicepeople.Theyjustmovedinandthey’realready
participatinginthedecoratingcontest.That’sgottosaysomething,”
Samtellsmydad,pullingmeoutofmythoughts.
“Yeah,itsaystheywantawarwiththeofficialHalloweenDecorator
King.”
“Dad,that’snotarealtitle,”Iremindhim.
“It’sarealtitleifIsayit’sarealtitle!”heargues.“ObviouslyIneed
toupmygameandprovetothoseyahoosthattheycan’tbeatme.Sam,
makeyourselfuseful:Gofindmeasmanyclowncostumesasyoucan.”
“Where,exactly,amIsupposedtofindclowncostumes?”Samasks
asmyfatherstartswalkingtowardthegarage,hiscurrentcommand
centerforallthingsHalloweendecorations.
“YOU’REACLOWNWHODEFILEDMYDAUGHTER!GOLOOK
INYOUROWNCLOSET!”Dadshoutsbacktohim,overhisshoulder.
Withonelastlookatthehouseacrossthestreet,Samgrabsmy
handandlaceshisfingersthroughmine.Staringstraightaheadto
avoideyecontactwithanyofthecreepy,lifelikeclowns,wemakeour
waythroughtheyardanduptheporchsteps,pausinginfrontofthe
door.
Samletsgoofmyhand,restshispalmsonmyhugestomach,and
smilesdownatme.
“Whataretheoddsourchildwillgrowuptobecompletelynormal
andnotatallbatshitcrazy?”heasks.
“Slimtonone,”Iimmediatelyreply,placingmyhandsontopofhis,
oursmilesbroadeningwhenwefeelalittlekickfrominsidemybelly.
“Atleastyou’rehonest,”Samlaughs.
“I’malwayshonestaboutthecrazinessofmyfamily.Just
remember,yousignedupforthisshit.Youagreedtotakemeforbetter
orforworse,insicknessandinhealth,andtoprotectmefromclowns
fortherestofyourlife.”
“Idon’tremembertheclownpartofourvows,”Sammuses.
“It’sarecentaddendum.Sogetyourassmovingandgetmethehell
awayfromthesethingsorI’lltakeyouwithmewhenIgetonthebusto
crazytown.”
Sam
“Everyone,payattention!I’mbringingthismeetingtoorder,soshut
thehellup!”
“Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch,ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah.”Noelischantingthe
creepythememusicfromFridaythe13thunderherbreathwhenher
bestfriend,SchevaOliver,yellsateveryone.
SchevaandNoelwerebestfriendsinhighschool,butlosttouch
whenNoelmovedawayfromOhiotoliveinSeattle.AssoonasNoel
movedbackhome,theChristmassheandImet,herfriendshipwith
Schevapickeduprightwhereitleftoff,andthetwobecame
inseparableagain.WeintroducedSchevatomybestfriend,AlexRose,
lastValentine’sDay,andwhatstartedoffasaflingquicklyturnedinto
somethingmore.AfterSchevaannouncedatEasterthatshewouldbe
marryingAlex,Noelstartedhumming“herecomesthebride”
wheneverSchevaenteredtheroom.Now,asmywifehasbecome
increasinglymoremiserableandcrankyduringthelasttrimesterof
herpregnancy,andSchevahasturnedintoabridezillaoncrack,it’s
saferforeveryoneinvolvedifNoelletsoutherfrustrationsby
channelingMichaelMyers.
Youknow,singinghisthemesonginsteadofgoingonamurderous
rampage.
Ilovemywifemorethananythingelseinthisworld,butshe’sbeen
scaringtheshitoutofmelatelywithhermoodswings.Noonewillbe
happierthanmewhenshefinallygivesbirth.Don’ttellherIsaidthat,
though,orshe’llprobablystabmeinthethroatwhileIsleep.
“I’vecalledeveryoneheretonightsowecandiscuss,andmakeany
finalchangesto,theoutfitsyou’llbewearingnextweekend.Atmy
wedding.ThemomentIofficiallybecomeabride.Theonedaywhere
everyonewillbepayingattentiontome.Andthelastperfect,amazing
dayI’lleverhavefortherestofmylife,”Schevaannounces,tossingher
longblondhairoveroneshoulder.
“Um,hello?Marriedtothisguyfortherestofyourlife,”Alex
remindsher,pointingbothhisthumbstohischest.
NoellikestocallAlexandmetheyinandyangofhotguys.We’re
prettymuchthesameheightandhavethesamemuscularbuildthanks
tothemilitary,butwhereIhaveshortdarkhair,Alex’sisshortand
blond.IstillthinkI’mbetterlookingthanheis,andmakesuretotell
himthatonaregularbasis.AlexandIhadsimilarchildhoods.Weboth
lostourparentsatayoungageandweretossedaroundthesystem
untilweturnedeighteen,whenwejoinedtheMarines.Oursimilar
livesforgedabondthatIcan’tbreak,nomatterhowmuchheirritates
mesometimes.WhenIintroducedAlextoNoel’sfamily,they
immediatelywelcomedhimintothefoldandmadehimoneoftheir
own,muchlikethey’ddonewithScheva.
EventhoughScheva’sparentsarealive,they’veneverreallygivena
shitabouther.Assoonassheturnedeighteenandmovedout,they
startedtravelingtheworldandforgottheyhadadaughter.Noel’s
familymaybecrazy,butthey’vetakeninallofusorphansandmadeus
apartoftheirfamilywithoutasecondthought.
“Yeah,yeah,whatever,”Schevasighswithawaveofherhand.
“Happilyeverafterandallthatshit.ButI’vebeendreamingabout
beingabrideallmylife,andit’salmostover.I’llneverhaveanything
tolookforwardtoeveragain.”
“Boy,marriageisgoingtobefun!”Alexrepliessarcastically,which
earnshimaglarefromhisbride-to-be.
“Marriageishardwork,”Bev,Noel’smother,announcesfromthe
othersideoftheroom,wheresheisbusilyrearrangingtheorange
pumpkinlightshangingacrossthefireplacemantle.“Ihopeyourups
anddownsareonlyinthebedroom.”
“Ew,gross,”Noelwhispers,herlipscurlingindisgust.
“Getit?Upsanddownsinthebedroom?Becausewhenyou’re
havingsexyourbodiesmove—”
“OhmyGod,Mom,wegetit.Stop.Don’tmakemethrowupmy
dinner,”Noelcomplains.
“There’snothingwrongwithahealthysexlife,Noel.Howmany
timesdoweneedtohavethisdiscussion?Ifyourfatherweren’tsucha
tigerinbed,Iwouldhavedivorcedhimalongtimeago.Andhefound
thisnewwebsitecalledTumbleswherehe’sgottenalotofnewmoves.
HaveyouheardofthisTumblesthing?”Bevlightsavotivecandleand
walksovertothecoffeetableinfrontofus,stickingitinsideasmall,
carvedpumpkininthemiddleofthetable.“Youshouldtryit.”
“Bev,mylove,it’scalledTumblr,notTumbles.Andnowyoujust
ruinedmyfavoritewebsite,picturingyouandReggielookingatporn
beforeyougetyournastyon.”Noel’sAuntBobbietossesbackherthird
martini,theshortblondwigshe’swearinggoingallaskewwhenshe
whipsherheadbacktofinishthedrink.“Sam,comeoverhereand
comfortme,”shecontinues.“Letmefondleyourpumpkins.”
Noel’sAuntBobbiewasherUncleRobertuntilhiswifelefthim
whenshecaughthimtryingonherclothes,andherealizedhewas
muchhappierbeingawoman.WhenIfirstmetAuntBobbie,she
reachedoutandgrabbedmydickinsteadofshakingmyhand.She
toneddownherflirtingandsexualinnuendoswithmewhenNoelandI
gotmarried,butobviouslythisweddingisstressingeveryoneout
lately.
“I’mnotwearingwhatyoupickedoutforme,”Noelsuddenlysays
toSchevawithahuff,crossingherarmsandpouting.
“Whatareyoudoing?Doyouwanttogetusallkilled?!”Alex
whispers,staringatherwithwideeyes.
“It’saHalloweenwedding,andyou’rewearingacostume,”Scheva
growls.
“Yousaidthiswasameetingtodiscussanyfinalchangestothe
outfits.Well,I’mmakingafinalchange.I’mNOTwearingthecostume
youpickedoutforme,”Noelargues.
“Youwillwearitandyouwilllikeit!”
“Youmademeacardboardboxyouexpectmetowear,paintedlike
anoven,withapictureofababyinsidethatrestsrightovermy
stomach.YOU’RECOOKINGABABY!”Noelscreams.
“IT’SABUNINTHEOVEN,ANDIT’SCUTE!”
“IT’SNOTABUNINTHEOVEN.IT’SANACTUALBABYINTHE
OVEN.BABIESDONOTGOINOVENS!”
“DON’TPISSMEOFFORI’LLMAKEYOUWEARTHAT
FLUORESCENT-GREENTAFFETAMATERNITYPROMDRESS
WITHTHEGIANTPUFFYSLEEVESIFOUNDATGOODWILL!”
“Youwouldn’t!”Noelfiresback,attemptingtopushherselfupfrom
thecouch,herbellygettinginthewayandmakingherfallbacktothe
cushionsfivetimes.Isitnexttoheranddonothingbutwatch.
Icouldbeagentlemanandhelpherupfromthecouch,butthenI’d
justbeconvictedofaidingandabettingwhenNoelfinallygetstoher
feet,chargesScheva,andchokeshertodeath.
Noelfinallymanagestopushherselfupfromthecouchand
waddlesovertoScheva,gettingrightinherface.
“I’mNOTdressingupasanoven.”
“Yes,youare.IalreadyboughtSam’schefcostumesoyoutwo
match,andit’stoolatetochangetheentirethemeofyourmatching
costumes,”Schevaargues.
“I’mdressingupasasluttywitch,orasluttykitten,oraslutty
devil,justlikeIdoeveryyear,andyou’renotgoingtostopme!”
“Thisissohot,”Alexwhispersashewatchesourwomenscreamat
eachotherfromhisspotnexttome,perchedontheedgeofthecouch.
“That’smypregnantwifeyou’retalkingabout.”
Alexshrugs.“Yeah,so?Pregnantpornishot.Don’ttellmeyou’ve
neverwatchedit.”
“You’redisgusting.”
“Thankyou,”hereplieswithasmile.
“ALLRIGHT!THAT’SENOUGH!”Reggiebellows,walkingintothe
livingroomandhandingafreshmartinitoAuntBobbiebefore
crackingopenthecanofbeerinhisotherhand.“Noelhasalready
ruinedourfamilynamebynotdecoratingfortheholidaysoverthelast
year,Idon’tneedtheneighborsgossipingmoreaboutusbecausethey
canhearyoutwoscreamingaboutcookingbabiesandsluttykittens.”
Heturnshisangrylookinmydirection,andIcowerbackintothe
seatcushions.ReggieblamesmeforNoel’srefusaltodecoratethe
outsideofourhouseforanyholidayssincelastHalloween.Noonein
thisneighborhoodwouldevenknoworcarethatwehaven’tdecorated,
sincewelivethirtyminutesaway,butthatdoesn’tmattertoReggie.
Noelbecamealittlesuperstitiouswheneveryholidaywespent
togetherafterwefirstmetturneddisastrous.
WemetinanairportbarafewdaysbeforeChristmas,andshe
convincedmetocomehomewithherandpretendtobetheboyfriend
she’drecentlybrokenupwithafterheproposedtoher.ButIgotshot
withaBBgunwhenwetouredthehousefromAChristmasStory,and
AuntBobbiewassohighondrugs,shewasconvincedshesawa
squirrelwearingasweater.
ThenyouhaveourfirstValentine’sDay,whenBevbroughthomea
strippernamedPinkytolivewiththem,andeveryonethoughtPinky
swallowedNoel’sengagementringandthey’dhavetowaitforherto
shititouttogetitback.NottomentionAuntBobbieaccidentally
givingNoelEcstasyinsteadofXanaxbeforeabigjobinterview,which
resultedinNoelattemptingtostripanddanceintheofficeofher
interviewer.
AndtherewasourfirstFourthofJuly,ourweddingday,wherewe
werestalkedbyahalf-dead,pissed-offzombiecatnamedTurd
Ferguson,afewstrayfireworksalmostburntmydickoff,andNoel’s
weddingdresswentupinflameslikeabarnfullofdryhay.
Tosaywe’vehadsomeveryeventfulholidaysisputtingitmildly.
Noeldecided,startinglastHalloween,thatwewoulddowhateverwe
couldtoignoretheholidaysinthehopesthatthiswouldeventually
bringusgoodluck.Itseemedtowork,too,untilthispastEaster,when
Noelfoundoutshewaspregnantandtriedtosurprisemewithnotes
hiddeninEastereggs.ButherdrunkAuntBobbieandevendrunker
bestfriend,Scheva,foundthenotesandswitchedthem,andhersweet
wayofannouncingthenewsturnedintothemostawkward
conversationaboutanalsexthatanyonehaseverhad.
“Dad,ItoldyouwhyIhaven’tdecoratedfortheholidays,giveita
rest,”Noelsayswithasigh.
“Andlookwhathappened!Yougotknockedupandnowyouhave
todressuplikeanoven,”Reggiegrumbles.
“Prettysurethat’snotwhatcausedmypregnancy.”
“ITWASANIMMACULATECONCEPTION!”Reggieshouts.
“Canwepleasebringthisbackaroundtothewedding?MY
wedding?Thehappiestdayofmylife,andthedayallofyoupeoplewill
doexactlyasyou’retoldandwearexactlywhatI’vepickedoutfor
you?”Schevainterrupts.“Samwillbedressingasachef,Noelwillbe
dressingasagoddamnovenandwillnotbitchaboutitonemoretime,
AuntBobbiewillbedressingasBarbraStreisand—”
“Igettosingatthereception,right?”AuntBobbieinterrupts.“I’ve
beenpracticing‘YouDon’tBringMeFlowers,’andtheladiesfrom
DragQueenBingowillbedisappointedifIdon’tsingit.”
SchevacontinueswithoutacknowledgingAuntBobbie.“AndReggie
andBevwillbedressedasapriestandanun.”
“Howmanyfucksgiven?NUN!”Alexcheerswithhisfistintheair.
“Now,weonlyhaveaweekleftuntilthewedding.Wehavetreat
bagstomake,pumpkinstocarve,orangelightstostring,andallof
thosegod-awfulclownstoremovefromthefrontyard,”Schevatellsus.
JustlikeNoelandI,SchevaandAlexhavedecidedtohaveasmall,
intimateweddinginBevandReggie’sbackyard.Here’shopingtheir
weddingdoesn’tendwithatriptotheemergencyroominthebackof
anambulanceandthird-degreeburnsonanyone’sjunk.
“THOSECLOWNSSTAY!”Reggieyells.“I’vealreadygotaplan
readyfortheweddingday.Assoonasyouaskedifyoucouldhavethe
weddinghere,Istartedcollectingusedweddingdresses.Allofthe
clownswillbedressedforthefestivities,andmydisplaywillremain
intactforthejudgingceremony.”
Yes,becausenothingsays“happyweddingday”likeclowns
dressedupasbrides.
Noelstompsbackovertothecouchandflopsdownnexttome.I
wrapmyarmaroundhershouldersandpullheragainstmyside.
“You’regoingtobethesexiestovenanyonehaseverseen,”I
whisperinherear.
“Forgetaboutcookingababy.I’mgoingtochopoffyourballsand
cookthoseinstead.”
DidImentionhowhappyI’llbewhenthisHalloweenweddingis
overandourbabyisfinallyoutofmywife’sbody?
Noel
“Ican’tbelieveyou’rejustnowtellingmethis.Also,you’readumbass.”
Ipausefromgrabbingasmallpumpkinoutofthebininfrontofme
toglareatScheva.
“I’mnotadumbass.AndIdidn’twanttobotheryouwithit.You’ve
gotalotgoingonrightnow,”Iexplain,puttingthepumpkinintothe
wagonnexttome.
Schevadecidedlatelastnightthatshedidn’thaveenoughsmall
pumpkinsforthetablecenterpiecesatthewedding,andshesentout
anS.O.S.textatmidnightthatwewerealltomeetheratourlocal
pumpkinfarmtostockup,firstthingthismorning.
Whilemymomanddadarebusyinthefield,pickingoutafew
extra-largepumpkinsfortheirfrontyard,andAlexandSamare
occupiedinoneoftheoldfields,afewacresaway,watchingthe
pumpkinlaunchershootpumpkins,SchevaandIfinallyhavesome
alonetimeinfrontofthemainbuilding,atthebinsofsmallpie
pumpkins.
“Youcan’tpossiblythinkSamischeatingonyou.Again.Didn’twe
alreadygothroughthisbefore?Andbesides,hefearsyourfathertoo
muchtoevercheatonyou,”Schevareassuresme.
“Fine,Idon’tthinkhe’scheatingonme,buthe’sdefinitelykeeping
somethingfromme.He’sbeenactingweirdlately.Andyouknowall
thatovertimehe’sbeenworking?Iwentuptothebasetheothernight
totakehimdinner,andtheguardatthegatetoldmehelefthours
earlier.”Igrabanotherpumpkinfromthebinandputitintothe
wagon,ontopofthepilewe’vealreadyaccumulated.
“AuntBobbiehasbeenactingweirdlatelytoo.Well,weirderthan
usual.MaybeshefinallyconvincedhimtostartgoingtoDragQueen
Bingowithher.IbetSammakesaverylovelywoman,”Schevasays
withalaugh.
Shewalksovertothewagon,picksupthehandle,andstartspulling
ittowardthecashieratthesideofthebuilding.Ifollowalong,walking
nexttoher.
“It’sprobablyjustmyhormonesmakingmecrazy,right?Imean,
maybetheguardwaswrongandSamreallywasthere.”
“DidyouaskSamiftheguardwaswrongandhereallywasthere?”
Schevaasks,stoppingbythecashierandpullingherwalletoutofher
purse.
“OfcourseIdidn’taskSam,areyouinsane?!I’mmuchhappier
thinkingtheworstsothatwhenthetruthfinallydoescomeout,Ican
bepleasantlysurprisedthatallmyfearswerewrong,likeanormal
humanbeing,”Itellher.
“Youmeanlikeaneurotichumanbeing.”
“Samedifference,”Ishrug.
“Allright,someoneneedstobackuponeoftheirvehiclestothe
frontofthebuildingandhelpmeloadmyhaul,”AuntBobbiestates,
comingovertostandnexttoSchevaandme.
AuntBobbiedisappearedassoonaswearrivedtobrowseinsidethe
pumpkinfarm’sstore.Theysellallsortsofhomemadegoodies,like
appleandpumpkinpies,applecider,andfreshlymadepumpkin
donutsfromtheirbakery.
AuntBobbiepullsamasonjaroutofthepursehangingfromher
shoulderandholdsitupforthecashiertosee.It’sgotapinklabel
wrappedaroundtheglassthatsaysSteph’sAppleButter.
“What’sthecinnamoncontentinthis?”sheasks.
“Averysmallamount.Justadash,really.Enoughforflavor,”the
womanreplieswithasmile.
“Excellent.Cinnamonburns.Iknowthatfromexperience.Adash
shouldbejustfine.I’lltakeseventy-fivejars,”AuntBobbieinformsher
beforeshovingthejarbackinsideherpurse.
Thewoman’smouthdropsopeninsurprise.
“AuntBobbie,whatinthehelldoyouneedseventy-fivejarsof
applebutterfor?”Schevaasks,hernosescrunchedupinconfusion.
AuntBobbielaughs.
“You’reright.WhatwasIthinking?That’sjustcrazy!”
Thecashier’sfacerelaxesuntilAuntBobbiecontinues.
“Makeitahundred.Youcanneverhavetoomuchapple-butter
lube.”
Schevaquicklythrowsawadofcashonthecounterandthanksthe
cashier,bothofusgrabbingAuntBobbie’sarmandpullingheraway
beforethecashierpassesoutandourfamilygetskickedoutofyet
anotherpublicplace.
“Heeeeey!Ineedtopayformyapple-butterlube!”AuntBobbie
protestsloudly,causingabunchofpumpkin-farmpatronstolookin
ourdirection.
“Oh,don’tlookatmelikethat,SuzieStick-Up-Her-Ass!”sheyells
atawomanwhohasstoppedinthemiddleofthewalkwaytogawkat
us.“Ibetyourhusbandknowswhat’supwithapple-butterlube.”
Themanstandingnexttothewomanblushesandquicklylooks
awayfromus.
“Yeah,that’sright.You’veslatheredsomeapplebutteronyour
netherregionbefore,admitit!”
MomandDadcomewalkinguptous,eachcarryingalarge
pumpkinintheirarms,asSchevaandIdoourbesttoshushAunt
Bobbieandsmileapologeticallyatthepeoplewatchingthishorrific
sceneunfold.
“Whyiseveryonestaringatus?”Momasksasshesetsherpumpkin
downbymyfeet.
“Oh,nobigdeal.AuntBobbieisjustmakingsurewe’renever
allowedtocomewithinahundredyardsofthisplace,”Imutter.
“Dammit,Bobbie!We’realreadynotallowedtogotoTargetand
Starbucksanymore.Andwe’vebeenbannedfromtwoHomeDepots
becauseofthatincidentwiththeleafblower,”mydadcomplains.
“It’snotmyfaulttheworkerdidn’tunderstandthesuckingpower
ofamachinehesellsinhisownstore,Reggie.Andit’salsonotmyfault
heallowedmetodemonstrateusingthecrotchofhispants.HowwasI
supposedtoknowtherewasanemergencykillswitchthatwouldhave
preventedhispenisfrombeingcoveredinsomanypoppedblood
vesselsthatthethinglookedlikeabloodynightmare?Heshouldhave
knownhisproductbetter,”AuntBobbieprotests.
“Takingapictureofitwithyourcellphonewhentheambulance
arrivedwasalsoprobablyabadidea,”Iremindher.
“Ineededproofofthedangersofleafblowerstosendtocorporate!”
shesayswithastompofherfoot.
“Allright,asfunasallofthishasbeen,weneedtogetthese
pumpkinshomesotheguyscanstartcarvingthem,”Scheva
announces.
“I’mnotleavingwithoutmyapple-butterlube,”AuntBobbiepouts,
crossingherarmsoverherchest.
“Ooooooh,youcanuseapplebutteraslube?Reggie,maybewe
shouldgetafewcases,”mymommuses,smilingatmyfather,whohas
movedafewfeetaway,lookinganywherebutatoursmallgroup,
pretendinglikehedoesn’tknowus.
Schevastartstodragherwagonofpumpkinstowardtheparking
lot.AuntBobbiestompsawaywithher,andmymothercontinues
tryingtoconvincemydadtheyshouldstockuponapplebutter.Isend
aquicktexttoSamthatwe’regettingreadytoleave,andhereplies
immediately,tellingmehelovesme,andthatheandAlexwillmeetus
outbythecars.
Likealways,IfeellikeanidiotforthethoughtsI’vebeenhaving
aboutmyhusband.I’msurehe’sjustbeenactingmoreoutofsorts
thanusuallatelybecausehe’sanxiousaboutthefactthatwe’reabout
tobecomeparents.Myfamilyprovidesenoughinsanityinourdaily
lives;Idon’tneedtoaddtoitbymakingupissuesthataren’teven
there.Ireallydohavethebesthusbandintheworld.Ifweweren’tstill
gettingdirtylooksfromhalfofthestaffrightnow,I’druninsideand
pickupafewjarsofSteph’sAppleButtermyself,forus.Maybebythe
timeHalloweenrollsaroundnextyear,itwillbesafetocomeback.
Sam
Awadofpumpkingutssmacksmeintheface,andIglareatAlexashe
setsdownhisdrillandstaresatthepumpkininfrontofhim.
“Isitreallynecessaryforyoutouseapowertooltocarvethese
pumpkins?”Iask,swipingtheglobbymessoffmycheekandflickingit
ontomynewspaper-coveredkitchentable.
“I’vealreadycarvedseventeenpumpkins,andyou’reonlyonyour
third.I’dsayhavingapowertoolisanecessity,”heanswers,standing
backtolookathiswork.
“Allyou’vedoneisdrillagiantholeinthecenterofeachone.At
leastI’mputtingeffortintomineandgivingthemfaces,”Ireply,
holdingupthegap-toothedjack-o’-lanternIjustfinished.
“It’snotagianthole.It’sagloryhole.I’mmakingthesepumpkins
multifunctionalforthemaleguests,sincegoingtoaweddingfora
dudeishellonearth.Theycanenjoythesoftglowofthecandleinside
ofitduringdinner,ortheycantakeonetothebathroomandhavea
littlein-and-outfun.Peoplewillthankme.”
Shakingmyheadathim,Iwalkovertothesinkandstartwashing
someofthegoooffmyhands.
“I’mprettysureyourbride-to-bewillnotbethankingyouwhenyou
explainwhatyou’vedone.”
AlextossesmeatowelwhenIturnaround,andIbegindryingmy
handsashestartsloadingthecarvedpumpkinsintoafewlargeplastic
containersthatwecanpackintomytruckandtakeovertoReggieand
Bev’slater.
“Speakingofthankingme,youdidn’tevengivemeanygratitudefor
thegiftIbroughtyoutoday,”hecomplains.
“Thesepumpkinslookdumbandugly.”
WebothturntolookatTia,thesix-year-oldgirlsittingatmytable,
whostareswithannoyanceatthepumpkinsAlexputsintothe
container.
“I’msupposedtothankyouforvolunteeringustobabysityour
neighbor’skid?”IwhispertoAlexasIcomeupnexttohim.
“Childrenareadelight—especiallyyou,Tia,isn’tthatright?”Alex
asksherwithahugesmileonhisface.
Tiajumpsdownfrommychair,walksuptoAlex,andkickshim
rightintheshin.
“SONOFAFUCKINGBITCH!”heshouts,bendingatthewaistand
grabbinghisleg.
“Yousaidabadword.I’mtellingmymommy!”Tiascoldsbefore
stormingoutofthekitchen,herblondpigtailsswishingbackandforth
asshegoes.
“ISAIDTWOBADWORDS!ATLEASTICANCOUNT!”Alex
shoutsafterher.
“Realmature,”Imutterwithashakeofmyhead.
“Fine,notallchildrenareadelight,butyoushouldstillbethanking
me.SchevatoldmethatNoelthinksyou’vebeenactingweirdlately,
andthatitmightbebecauseyou’rescaredaboutyourimpending
fatherhood,”Alexexplainsaswestartcleaningupthemesscovering
mykitchentable.“Youcan’ttellmethiswasn’tabrilliantidea.Itwill
giveyoualittlepracticeonhowtohandlekidsbeforethebigday
arrives,soyoudon’tfuckeverythingup.”
“Gee,thanksforthevoteofconfidence.AndI’mnotnervousabout
becomingafather.YouknowexactlywhyI’vebeenactingweirdlately,
sobabysittingdutywasn’tnecessary.”
AlexistheonlyonewhoknowsaboutthesurpriseI’vebeen
planningforNoel,andthatI’vebeenbustingmyasstogetitfinished
beforeshehasthebaby.I’mhonestlysurprisedhehasn’tletthecatout
ofthebag,consideringthisguyusuallycan’tkeepasecrettosavehis
life.
“Youdorealizethatonceacertainsomeonefindsoutwhatyou’ve
done,you’reprobablygoingtohavetochangeyournameandenterthe
witness-protectionprogram,right?”Alexasksasherollsupthe
pumpkin-guts-fillednewspaperandtossesitinthetrash.
“It’snotgoingtobethatbad,”Itellhim,eventhoughIknowitis.
It’sgoingtobebad.Horriblybad.I’mjusthopingI’llbeforgiven
andthey’llseehowgoodthiswillbeforeveryone.Eventually.Like,
maybebythetimeourchildgoestocollege.
“Where’sTia?”Iasksuddenly,peekingoutofthekitchendoorway
andnotseeingherinthelivingroom.
“Probablyrunningwithscissors,watchingpornonYouTube,and
lightingthingsonfire.She’llbefine.”
Withasigh,IleaveAlextofinishcleaningupmykitchenwhileIgo
insearchofthelittlegirl.Imightnotknowalotaboutkids,butIdo
knowyoushouldneverleavethemunattendedforlongperiodsoftime,
andthatsilenceneverequalsanythinggood.
Luckily,myhouseisn’tthatbig,andIfindherinthemaster
bathroom,rightoffmyandNoel’sbedroom.
“Oh,no,”ImutterassoonasIwalkintheroom.
Tialooksupatmefromwhereshe’sperchedontheedgeofthetub,
andhereyesimmediatelyfillwithtears.Irushtohersideandsquat
downnexttoher.
“Imean,ohno,Ican’tbelieveyou’rehavingfunwithoutme!”Ilie.
Shesmilesupatmeandfinishessquirtingthelastofanentire
bottleofshampoointothetubbeforestandingupandpointingatit.
“Getin.”
Istareatherinconfusion.
“Um,what?”
Shesighsheavily.
“Isaid,getin.Takeabath.”
Glancingdownintothetub,Iwinceatthemountainofgoopthat
she’sdumpedintotheJacuzzitub,severalsectionsofitstartingto
bubbleandhiss.I’veneverseenshampoodosomethinglikethis,andit
makesmealittlenervousthinkingabouteverythingshecouldhave
dumpedintherealongwiththehair-cleaningproduct.
“Idon’tthink—”
“GETINTHETUBRIGHTNOW!”shescreams,withastompof
herfoot.
“Okay,okay,I’mgoing!”Iquicklyreply,hoppingovertheedgeof
thetub,myfeetsinkingintothemess,whichsqueezesbetweenmy
toes.Thefeelingmakesmewanttothrowupinmymouthalittle.
“See?Lookatmeinthetub!Wheeeeee,thisisfun!”
Istomparoundalittleasshewatchesme.WhenIstarttoclimb
backout,sheblocksmyway,herhandsonherhips.
“Sitdown.TakearealbathorI’lltellMommyyousaidbadwords.”
“Ididn’tsaybadwords,yourneighborAlexsaidbadwords!”I
complain,throwinghimunderthebusandcursinghimundermy
breathforputtingmeinthissituation.
Hereyesstarttofillwithtearsagain,andthistime,herlowerlip
startstoquiver.
Fuckinglipquiver.HowamIsupposedtoignorealipquiver?
Withasigh,Islowlysinkdownintothetub,regrettingtheactionas
soonasmyassgetsswallowedupbythemess.
“Doesn’titfeelgood?”Tiaaskswithasmile.
“Yep!Itfeelsgreat!Reallytingly.Whatexactlydidyouputinmy
bath,sweetheart?”Iaskasnicelyaspossible,clenchingmyteethto
stopmyselffromscreaming.
Tiawalksovertothecabinetunderthesinkandstartspullingout
emptybottlesandtossingthemontothefloornexttothetub.
Shampoo,conditioner,shavingcream,bleach,peroxide…well,that
explainsthetingling.
ShecontinuesthrowingoutbottlesandIquicklyrealizethatmaybe
Idoneedacrashcourseinparenting.Obviouslychildrenshouldn’t
haveaccesstoanyoftheseproducts.AndobviouslyI’mpayingformy
mistake,becausethetinglinghasnowturnedtofull-onburning,which
meansit’sdefinitelytimetopanic.
“Tia,honey,Ineedyoutocallnine-one-one,”Itellherascalmlyas
possiblewhilemyballsfeelliketheyarebeinglitonfire.
“NINE-ONE-ONE!”Tiascreamsatthetopofherlungs.
“NOTOUTLOUD,ONTHEPHONE!”Iscreamback,forgettingall
abouthowIshouldn’tfreakoutinfrontofherandscareher,even
thoughmyballsfeelliketheyaremeltingrightfrommybody.
“MOMMYSAYSI’MNOTALLOWEDTOUSETHEPHONE,
DUMMY!”Tiaargues,rollinghereyesatmelikeI’manidiot.
“Whatisallthescreamingabout?”Alexasks,pokinghisheadinthe
bathroomdoor.“Dude,areyoubathinginfrontofmyneighbor?I
thinkthat’srulenumberoneforThingsYouShouldn’tDoinFrontof
Kids.Andyouthoughtyoudidn’tneedtolearnhowtobeaparent.”
AlexmovesintothebathroomandscoopsTiaupinhisarms.
“HowaboutwegointothelivingroomandIputonIt’stheGreat
Pumpkin,CharlieBrownsoSamcanfinishwhateverkinkythinghe’s
doingonhisown?”
“What’skinkymean?”Tiaaskshimashecarriesheroutofthe
room.
“I’llgetbacktoyouonthatwhenyou’reeighteen.”
Assoonasthey’regone,Iquicklystandup,pulltheplug,andturn
ontheshower,notevenbotheringtoremovemyclothesasIscrubthe
toxicshitoffofme.
Ittakesthirtyminutesandthreeshowersformyballstofinallystop
burning,butatleastthatgivesmesomethingtoworryaboutother
thanthesurpriseI’vebeenplanningforNoel.
Noel
Haveyoueverbeeninthemiddleofhavingsexwithsomeoneand
foundyoucan’tstopyourmindfromwandering?
DidIremembertopaytheelectricbill?
Arewealmostoutofmilk?
DidIcallmymotherbackwhensheleftmeavoicemail?
IsSamnotmakinganynoisebecauseI’vecrushedhimwithmy
giantbelly?
NotthatI’mdoinganyofthosethingsrightnow,seatedontopof
myhusbandinourbedwhilehethrustshishipsup.Myhusbandis
gorgeous,andhe’sthebestsexI’veeverhad,butI’mtoobigand
irritableandscatterbrainedtoevenpretendI’menjoyingit.
“Allright,spititout,”Samsayssoftlywhenhestopsmoving,
slidinghishandsupmybarethighsandrestingthemonmyhips.
“That’snotwhatyousaidlastnight,”Ijoke,tryingtolightenthe
moodinsteadofbringingitdownwithmyinsecuritiesandcrazybrain.
“Haha,”hedeadpans.“Comeon,Iknowsomethingisbothering
you.Doweneedtohaveanotherintervention,whereItellyouallthe
waysyourpregnantbodyisbeautifulandhowIstillthinkyou’resexy?”
Hehelpsmeliftmyselfupandoffofhim,andIlaydownonmy
backnexttohim,staringupattheceiling.Samturnsonhisside,
proppinghimselfononeelbowandsupportinghisheadinonehand
whiletheotherrestsonmystomach.Hestaresdownatme.
“No,Idon’tneedanotherpregnancyintervention.I’msorry,my
headisjustallovertheplacerightnow.”
“Thebabycannotseemypeniscomingtowarditsface,wealready
Googledthatshitandfoundoutitisn’ttrue,”Samremindsme.
“It’snotthateither.Butdidyouknowthebabycanfeelmyorgasm?
It’slikeasenseofeuphoriaforthem.That’sweird.Ourbabyishaving
orgasmsinthewomb.Ourbabyishavingorgasmsbeforeitcanwalk
ortalk.Isn’tthatweird?Doesn’tthatcreepyouout?”
Thisisnotatallthethoughtthatwasrunningthroughmyhead,
butIdon’twantmyhusbandtoknowIfeelgrossandugly,because
he’lljustthinkI’mbeingsilly.
“Itdidn’tfivesecondsago,butthanksforgivingmethatimage
rightbeforeIgotosleep,”Samcomplains.
“I’msorry,”Iapologizeagain,turningonmysideandrestingmy
handonhischest.“IthinkI’mjustfeelingalittleoffbecauseit’s
almostHalloweenandwedon’thaveonedecorationup.Iknow,I
know,itwasallmyidealastyear,butthisismyfavoriteholiday.And
wedon’thaveonepumpkinoranycornstalksonthefrontporch.And
itstillkindofsucksthatwedon’tgetanytrick-or-treaterslivingway
outhereintheboonies.”
“Honey,wecandowhateveryouwant.Ifyouwanttomake
Halloweenthrowupalloverthishouse,we’lldoit.Andwealwaysgo
toyourparents’housefortrick-or-treatersanyway,soitdoesn’teven
matterthatwedon’tgetanykidshere,”Samremindsme.
He’sright,andIdon’tknowwhyI’mbeingallemoaboutthisallof
asudden.Myparents’street,asidefromhavingaHalloween
decoratingcontest,goesalloutonHalloweennight.Everyonesetsup
tablesandchairsandfirepitsintheirdriveways,andtheneighbors
spendthenightgoingfromhousetohouse,votingonwhichhousehas
thebestdecorations,sharingfoodanddrinkseveryonehassetout,and
havingafuntimehangingoutinbetweenpassingoutcandytoallthe
kids.
It’sprobablybecauseofthatstupidhouseacrossthestreetfrommy
parents.Knowingsomeoneelseislivingthereandwillgettoenjoythe
funthatisHalloweennightrightintheirownfrontyardisdepressing.
ButSam’sright.Wegothereeveryyear,andthisyearwillbeno
different,eventhoughitwillbethedayafterAlexandScheva’s
wedding,andaweekbeforeI’mduetogivebirth.
IstareatSam’sfaceandforthefirsttimeseejusthowexhaustedhe
looks.He’sbeenworkingatonofovertimelately,leavingthehouse
beforethesuncomesupandcominghomelongafterit’sgonedown
mostnights.IfeelbadthatI’mmakinghimfeelbadaboutwherewe
live.Thisisagreathousetoraiseababy,andI’mjustgoingtohaveto
dealwiththefactthatwe’rethirtyminutesawayfrommyfamilyand
I’llalwayshavetogothereifIwanttoenjoythefunoftrick-or-treat
night.
“Firstthingtomorrow,I’llgooutandgetusabunchofpumpkinsto
carveandcornstalkstoputonthefrontporch.AndbeforeIleave,I’ll
bringallofyourboxesfullofHalloweendecorationsdownfromthe
atticsoyoucangocrazyaroundthisplace.Soundgood?”Samasks.
Givinghimasmile,Ipushmyselfup,andwithafewgruntsand
sighsandalotofeffort,Iclimbbackontohislapandrockmyhips
againsthimuntilIfeelhimstarttogrowhardagainbetweenmy
thighs.
“HaveItoldyoulatelyhowmuchIloveyou?”Iask,liftingmybody
afewinchessoSamcanreachbetweenusandlinehimselfup.
Isinkdownonhimandwebothgroan.
“Yes,butIdon’tmindyoutellingmeagain,”Sammutters,hiseyes
flutteringclosedasIswivelmyhipsandhejerkshisuptomeetme.
“Oh,shit.Dothatagain.”
Idoasheasks,wishingmyhugebellyweren’tinthewaysoIcould
lookdownandseehimmovinginsideme.
RightwhenmymindfinallyclearsofallthenonsenseandIcanfeel
myreleasestarttocreepuponme,thebabykicks,andmybodyjerks
toahalt.
“What’swrong?Whathappened?Areyouokay?”Samasks,hiseyes
flyingopenashelooksupatmewithworry.
“Thebabykicked,”Iwhisper.
“Um,okay?”
“ThebabyknowsIwasalmostreadytohaveanorgasm,”Iwhisper
again.
“Thebabydoesnotknowyouwerealmostreadytohavean
orgasm,”Samsayswithasigh.
“Thebabyknows.Ican’tberesponsibleformybabylearningabout
orgasmswhenitcan’tevenspeaktotellmetostoptalkingabout
orgasms,”Icomplain.
“It’slikeyouwantmetothrowupinmymouthrightnow,”Sam
mutters.
“I’msorry.I’llmakeituptoyou.Whenthisbabyisoutofmeandis
nowherenearmyorgasms,everythingwillbefine.”
“Youcanmakeituptomerightnow.Letmedothatthing,”he
demands.
Samgentlyliftsmeoffhisbodyagain,movingoutfromunderme
andsittingupinbednexttomeasIgruntandhuffandpositionmyself
untilmybackisleaningupagainsttheheadboard.
“No.Absolutelynot.Itoldyoutoneveraskmeifyoucoulddothat
again.ThatwasNOTfunforme,norwasitapleasurableexperience,”I
remindhim,crossingmyarmsinfrontofmeandrestingthemonmy
hugebelly.
“I’llgoslowerthistime.Ipromiseyou’lllikeit.”
“Yousaidthatlasttime,anditendedinmecryingandhavingto
takefiveshowers,”Iargue.
Hismouthturnsintoapout,andhebatshiseyelashesatme.
“Please,Noel?Prettyplease?IpromiseI’llneveraskyoutodothis
again.Iknowit’smorefunformethanitisforyou,butI’llbequick.It
willbeoverbeforeyouknowit,”hebegs.
ConsideringIjustruinedhisevening,Ihavenochoicebuttogive
in.
Samletsoutawhoopofexcitementandscramblesoffthebedto
graballofthenecessarysupplies.
Truetohisword,he’squickandit’soverbeforeIknowit.Thereare
noscreamsofprotestorcryingfrommethistime,justalookof
completeannoyancethatIdon’tevenbotherhidingfrommyhusband.
“Okay,allfinished.Shit,baby.You’resocute.Idon’tknowwhyyou
won’tletmetakeapicture.Yourmotherwouldlovethis.”
LiftingmyheadfromthepillowswhereIscooteddowntolethim
dohisthing,Istareatmyhugebelly,nowcompletelycoveredin
orangepaint,withajack-o’-lanternfacedrawnonwithblackpaint.
“Stopgivingmethatlook.You’readorable.Thisiswhathappens
whenyou’regoingtohaveababyrightafterHalloween,sodealwithit.
ThisisallIhavetoliveforrightnow.Don’truinit,”Samscolds,unable
tokeepthesternlookonhisface,hisdimplespoppingoutashestares
atthemasterpiecehejustpaintedonmystomach.
IknowIshouldprobablythinkthisiscute,butitjustmakesmefeel
evenmoreunattractive,knowingmystomachresemblesagiant,
plumppumpkin.
“Fuckit.I’mtakingapicture,”Sammutters,reachingovertograb
hiscellphonefromhisnightstand.
“Iwillshovethatthingupyourassifyoutakeapictureofmy
stomachrightnow,”Ithreaten.
“Toolate,”Samsayswithasmile,pressingacoupleofbuttonson
hisphoneuntilIhearawhooshsound,lettingmeknowhejustsent
thedamnthingtoGodknowshowmanypeople.
Insteadofthrowingafit,Igetupoutofbedandheadtothe
shower,quietlyplottinghisdeathasIturnonthewaterandletitwarm
up.
“Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch,ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah,”Istartchanting.
“IHEARDTHAT!”Samshoutsfromtheothersideofthedoor.
“STOPDOINGTHAT.IT’SFREAKINGMETHEFUCKOUT!”
Withalaugh,Igetintotheshowerandstartscrubbingthedamn
pumpkinoffmystomach,lookingforwardtogettingintothe
Halloweenspirittomorrowandforgettingallaboutmystupid
superstition.AlexandSchevaaregoingtohaveafun,awesome
wedding,we’regoingtohangoutatmyparents’housefortrick-or-
treatandhaveanamazingtime,andSamandIwillcelebrateanother
holidaywithoutanymishaps.Icanfeelit.
Sam
“Sorry!IknowI’mlate,justgivemetwosecondstowashupreally
quickandthenwecango,”ItellNoelasIrushintothekitchenwhere
she’sseatedatthetablewithherlaptopinfrontofher.
ShetipsherheadupandsmilesatmeasIleandownandgivehera
quickkissonthelips.
“It’sfine.I’mjusttryingtofinishupsomework.”
Ipauseforaminutetostareatherasshefiddlesaroundonher
computer.Shelooksexhausted,andIfeellikethebiggestassinthe
worldforbeingawayfromhersomuchlatelyandforkeepingasecret
fromher.IhatethatshethinksI’vebeenworkingallthisovertime
latelyandfeelsbadformewheneverItellherI’mtired.I’mdeceiving
mywife,andrightnow,itdoesn’tmakemefeelgood.
“Isthatabeaver?”Iask,leaningdownclosertolookatherlaptop
screen.
“It’sawombat.Andyes,IPhotoshoppedawombat,theShamWow
guy,andtheVirginMaryintoourfamily’sChristmaspicturefromlast
year.Don’tjudgeme.I’mtryingtogetmycreativejuicesflowingsoI
cangetasmuchworkdoneasIcanbeforeIgoonmaternityleave,”she
tellsme.
NoelgotajobworkingforSeductionandSnackstwoyearsagoon
Valentine’sDay.It’sahugecompanywithchainsallovertheU.S.One
sidesellssextoys,andtheothersideisabakery.TheyhiredNoelto
designinappropriategreetingcardsfortheirstores.Thepopularityof
Noel’scardsgrewsoquickly,theownersmadeherapartnerlast
Easter,changedthenameofthestoretoSeductionandSnacksand
Salutations,andletheraddwhatevershewantedtotheline,likeT-
shirts,pens,notepads,andabunchofothershit,allwithinappropriate
sayingsonthem.
“Whatisallthatstuff?”Noelasks,lookingawayfromherlaptop
andnoticingthetwohugeduffelbagsIbroughthomefromwork.
“Don’task.Yourdadcalledmeearlierinapanic,askingmeto
bringabunchofstuffhomeforhim.He’stakingthisHalloween-
decoratingcontesttoanextremelevel,”Itellher.
“Ifhedoesn’twinthatthingthisyear,we’reallgoingtosuffer,
Sam.”
Iswallowpastthelumpinmythroatandletoutanervous,high-
pitchedlaugh.
“Whywouldn’thewin?He’stotallygoingtowin.Everyoneknows
he’sgoingtowin.Hewinseveryyear.Whywouldthisyearbeany
different?He’sgoingtowin.Shouldweupdateourpassportsjustin
case?I’veheardBelizeisaniceplacetolive,”Iramble.
Noelstaresatme,herbrowfurrowedquestioningly.
“Areyouokay?Ifyoudon’twanttogotomyparents’housetohelp
puttogetherthetreatbags,Icancallmymomandmakesomething
up.”
Ilaughagain,allweirdandgirly,wonderingwhyinthehellIcan’t
justlaughlikeafuckingmanwhenI’mnervousandhidingsomething
frommywife.
“I’mfine!Excellent.Everythingisgood.Givemefiveminutesto
jumpintheshowerandthenwecango.”
GivingNoelakissonthetopofherhead,Ileavehertoher
wombatsandShamWowguyandheadtothebathroom,hopingshe’s
notgettingsuspiciousandthatmysurprisewillstillbeasurprise,even
thoughnowI’mstartingtoworrythatonceeveryonefindsoutwhat
I’vedone,thisfamilywillgoahellofalotmoreinsane.
***
“Getyourshittogether,Sam!Ithoughtyousaidyou’ddonethisbefore.
Stopactinglikeapansy-asslittlegirl!”Reggiewhisper-yellsasourfeet
crunchthroughtheleavesandwegingerlystepoverpumpkinsand
extensioncords.
“IHAVEdonethisbefore.INAFUCKINGWARZONE,notfor
breakingandentering!”Iwhisperbackangrily.
WhenReggiecalledmeatworkearlierandtoldmetobringover
night-visiongoggles,tacticalvests,camoface-paintsticks,aKa-Bar
knife,andcombathelmets,Ithoughtheneededtheseitemsfor
anotherasininedecoratingideaforhisfrontyard.Ihadnoidea,when
NoelandIgotherefordinnerandtohelpputtogethercandybagsfor
weddingfavorsandtrick-or-treat,thatReggiewoulddragmeoutto
thegarage,makemesuitup,andthreatentocutoffmyballsifIdidn’t
doexactlyashesaid.
“Istillcan’tbelieveyoudidn’tbringtherifles.TheONEthingItold
youwasmostimportant,andyouconvenientlyforgotthem,”he
complains.Iletoutagroanwhenhekicksajack-o’-lanternoutofthe
way,cavinginthefrontoftheintricatelycarvedthing.
“Thattooksomeoneovertwohourstocarve,andyoujustruined
it!”Icomplain.“AndImaybeanidiot,butI’mnotdumbenoughto
giveyoualoadedweapon.”
Reggiecrouchesdownbehindashrub,grabsmyarm,andyanksme
downnexttohim.Sincethesunsetoveranhourago,the
neighborhoodisshroudedindarkness,makingmefeellikeI’minthe
middleofascarymoviegonewrong,andthataderangedkillerwillany
minutejumpoutfrombehindanearbytreeandtrytokillus.
“Youhavenoideahowlongthatugly-assthingtooktocarve.It
lookedstupidandIputitoutofitsmisery.”
“ItwasanexactreplicaoftheDVDcoverofTheNightmareBefore
Christmas.Itwasartisticandgenius,”Imutterlikeapetulantchild.
“DoyouneedMidol?Areyouonyourmanperiod?Quityour
bitchingandgetyourheadinthegame.We’reheretoseewhatkindof
lowlifescummovedintothishouseandistryingtotakemytitleaway
fromme.”
Ican’tbelievethisiswhatmylifehasbecome.Iusedtobeastrong,
badassMarine.NowI’mwearingtacticalgear,myfaceiscoveredin
camopaint,andI’mlurkinginshrubberywithmyinsanefather-in-
law,hopingnoneoftheneighborscatchusandcallthecops.
“Obviouslythesepeoplearen’tlowlifescum.Lowlifescumwouldn’t
decorateforHalloweenwithsuchattentiontodetailandfantastically
lifelikefigurines.”
Reggieglaresatmeoverhisshoulderbeforeshufflingawayfrom
meinacrouchedposition.
“Whatareyoudoing?!Getbackhere!”IwhisperloudlyasReggie
walksrightthroughthelandscapingonthesideofthehouseandupto
oneofthewindows.
Ihavenochoicebuttofollowhim,studyingmysurroundingsasI
lookforneighborsoutoneveningwalks,orcopsdrivingbytomake
sureacrazymanwearingatacticalvestoverhiswife’spink,frilly
bathrobeisn’tattemptingtobreakintoahouse.
WhenImakeituptoReggie,theorangeglowofthelightsstrung
aroundtheframeofthewindowhighlightshisface,givinghisprofilea
creepylook.Hecupshishandsaroundhiseyesandleansforward,
pressingthemagainstthewindow.
“Thereisn’tevenanyfurnitureinthere.They’veownedthishouse
foramonthandthere’snofurniture.Ibetthey’reserialkillersand
they’reusingthishousetodismemberthebodiesinthebasement,”
Reggiemutters.
“Yes,becauseserialkillersalwaysgetintotheHalloween-
decoratingspirit,”Ireplysarcastically.
“Ibettheyroofietheirvictimsatalocalbar;puttheminthebackof
awhite,nondescriptvanwithdirtywindowsthatsomeonewrotethe
wordpenison;pullintothegarageandclosethedoor;dragthe
unconsciousbodyinsideanddownintothebasement;andputitonto
ametalhospitaltable.Thentheyputonwhitebutcheringapronsand,
usingaknifefromPaulaDeen’sWalmartcollection,chopupthebody,
startingwiththefingersandfinishingwiththeears.Thentheystore
everythinginHalloween-themedZiplocbagsinsevenchestfreezers,”
Reggiesays.
“Thatwasstrangelyspecific…andhorrifying.”
“I’vehadalotoftimetothinkaboutthis,”hereplies.
“Clearly.Canwegobackacrossthestreetnow?I’dmuchrather
watchAuntBobbiegetdrunkandtrytoputpotcookiesintothekids’
treatbagsthanhavetoexplaintothepolicethatyou’renotasociopath
whodreamsabouthowhisneighborschopuppeopleandputthemin
baggieswithpumpkinsandghostsonthem.”
Reggiesighsandfinallypullshisfaceawayfromthewindow.
“Fine.We’llgohomefornow,butthisisn’tover,”Reggiecomplains
aswesneakbackthroughtheobstaclecourseofthefrontyard,
dodgingpumpkinsandotherdecorationsaswego.“Thesepeoplehave
declaredwar.Ifawariswhattheywant,awariswhatthey’llget.
EveryoneonthisstreetlovesmeandmyHalloweendecorations.I’m
notgoingtoletsomeserialkillersruinmylife’swork.”
“YoumeaneveryonebutSusan,whocalledBevtodayandtoldher
thathersonhadaclownnightmarelastnight,”Iremindhim.
NoelcalledmeatworkrightafterBevcalledhertotellherabout
Susan,becauseNoellikestobringmedowntoherlevelofmisery
whenevershehastodealwitheitheroneofherparents.
“Ican’thelpitifhersonisasissy.He’llhavealotmoretocryabout
whenhefindsouthe’slivingdownthestreetfrompeoplewhowill
kidnaphimandcutoffhisfingers.”
“JesusChrist,”Imutteraswecrossthestreetandmakeourwayup
totheporch.“Never,eversaythatoutloudagain.Idon’thaveenough
moneysavedforyourbailortohireareputabledefenseattorney.”
Assoonaswewalkinthefrontdoor,Noelcomesintothefront
hallwayfromthelivingroom,stoppinginhertrackswhensheseesher
fatherandme.
“DoIevenwanttoask?”
Ishakemyhead.“Definitelynot.”
“Youmarriedadipshit,Noel.Hewouldn’tevenletmecarryarifle,”
Reggiecomplains.
“Noel,weneedmoreSnickersforthe—”
Bevjoinsusinthehallandstopsnexttomywife,herwordscutting
offassoonasshelooksup.
“It’snotwhatitlookslike,”Itellher.
IhavenoideawhyIsaidthat.It’sexactlywhatitlookslike.Itlooks
likewejustputontacticalgearandfacepaintandwentcreeping
throughtheneighbor’syard.
“Oh,Sam,youdon’thavetobeembarrassed.It’sabouttimeReggie
toldyouhowhelikestodressupasG.I.Joewhenweroleplay.”She
smilesatmebeforeturningtowardherhusband.“Honey,didyoutell
himabouthowyoumakemepretendtobeyourcommandingofficer
andIgettoyellatyouandgiveyouorders?”
Reggiegroans,Noelgrimaces,andItrymyhardestnottorun
screamingbackoutthefrontdoor.
“HelikesitwhenImakehimbark,”Bevwhispersconspiratorially,
givingmeawink.
“Jesus,Beverly!Isnothingsacredinthishouse?”Reggie
complains.
Justthen,thefrontdooropensbehindus,andweallturntosee
AuntBobbiestumbleinwithanungodlyamountofmakeupsmudged
alloverherfaceandwipedoffinrandomplacesonthesparklyblack
dressshe’swearing.It’sonlyeighto’clockandshealreadylookslike
she’sbeenonanall-nightbender.
“Bobbie,whatintheworldhappenedtoyou?”Bevasks,rushingto
hersidetohelpherstand.
“ItwasaroughnightatDragQueenBingo.Idon’tremembermuch
aboutwhathappenedafterthefifteenthround,”shetellsus.
“Thefifteenthroundofbingoorofdrinks?”Noelquestions.
“Bacon!”AuntBobbieanswers.
“Reggie,gomakeBobbiesomecoffee.Sweetie,areyougoingtofeel
uptohelpingwiththetreatbagstonight?”Bevaskshersoftly.
“PHTEVEN!”AuntBobbieshoutsasBevwrapsherarmaroundher
waistandhelpsherwalkdownthehallandintothelivingroom,
movingaroundtheshit-tonsofKitKats,Reese’sPeanutButterCups,
Twixbars,Heathbars,bubblegum,andBlowPops.ShedepositsAunt
Bobbieontothecouch.
“What’saphteven?AuntBobbie,areyouhavingabrainaneurism?
Doyouneedmedicalattention?”Bevasks,bendingdowntostareinto
AuntBobbie’sglassy,unfocusedeyes.
“It’sStevenwithaPH!BACON!”AuntBobbieshouts.
“SweetJesus,shelookslikeaclownthatjustwokeupafteragang
bang,”Schevastates,lookingupfromherspotonthefloor,whereshe’s
alreadystartedassemblingbags.
“Inlocalnewstonight,therehavebeenseveralrecentsightingsof
anindividualdressedupasaclown,wanderingneighborhoodsand
frighteningpeople.Thepolicehaveyettoascertainifthispersonis
justhavingsomegoodoldHalloweenfunorisagenuinethreattothe
community.Pleasestayvigilant,andifyouseeanyonedressedupas
aclown,callthelocalpolice.Backtoyou,Richard.”
We’reallstaringatthetelevisioninthecorneroftheroomwithour
mouthswideopenwhenReggiewalksinwithasteamingmugofcoffee
inhishand.
“See,Dad?Itoldyouclownswereevil!”Noelremindshim.
“Areyoutalkingaboutthatstupidnewsreportthey’vebeen
runningallnight?Poppycock.Bunchofhorseshit,ifyouaskme.
Peoplegettingscaredoverclowns…Clownsbringjoyandlaughter
intopeople’slives.Whatisthisworldcomingtowhenpeopleareafraid
ofsomethinglikethat?It’sgoingtohellinahandbasket,that’swhat’s
happening,”Reggiecomplains.
HehandsAuntBobbiethecoffee,pushingituptohermouthand
forcinghertodrinkitastherestofusstareoutthefrontwindow,
wonderinghowthehellwe’llbeabletotellarealkillerclownfromthe
clownsalloverthedamnfrontyard.
Noel
I’msettingasmall,carvedpumpkininthemiddleofatablewhena
BraxtonHickscontractionhitsme.Igrabmystomachandfocusonmy
breathing.
“Youokay?”
InodatSchevaasshewalksover,takingafewdeepbreathsuntil
thetightnessinmybellyfinallygoesaway.
“I’mfine.Justgettingthesestupidthingsmoreandmorelately,”I
tellher,glancingaroundtheyardandchangingthesubject.“Thisplace
looksamazing.Wedidaprettyawesomejob.”
Schevasmilesinagreementaswetakeinthetransformationofmy
parents’backyard.SinceScheva’sparentssuckandcouldn’tbe
botheredtocomehomefromtheirvacationinBarbadosforthe
wedding,naturallymyparentsimmediatelyagreedtohavethe
weddinghere.SchevaandAlexrentedthesamegiantwhitetentthat
SamandIusedforourwedding.Underneathitisabunchofround
tableswithdarkbrowntablecloths.Inthecenterofeachtableclothisa
clusteroffakeleavesineveryfallcolor,andnestledonthosearejack-
o’-lanternscontainingcandleswe’lllightrightbeforetheguestsarrive,
intwodays.Wedecidedtoseteverythinguptoday,insteadof
tomorrow,sowewon’tbeexhaustedrushingaroundthedaybeforethe
wedding,scramblingtogeteverythingready.
Mydad,Alex,andSamstrungorangelightsallaroundtheceilingof
thetent,andbowsmadefromorangeandbrownplaidfabricaretied
aroundthebacksofallthechairs.MymomandAuntBobbieare
currentlystickingblackwrought-ironstakesintothegroundallaround
theouteredgeofthetent.Thestakesaretoppedwithsmallorange-
glasspumpkins,whichwillalsoholdlitcandles.
It’sbeautifulandnotover-the-topcrazywithdecorations,likeI
initiallyimagineditwouldbewhenSchevaannouncedshewanteda
Halloweenwedding.
“Honey,areyouokay?Youlookalittlepale,”mymomstatesasshe
walksupnexttouswithaboxoftreatbagsforustostartputtingat
everyplacesetting.
“JustsomeBraxtonHickscontractions,I’mfine.”
I’mexhaustediswhatIam.Sam,truetohisword,broughtoutall
ofmyHalloweendecorationstheotherday,andIimmediatelywentto
workputtingoutpumpkinsandghosts,hangingleafgarlandsfrom
everydoorway,andstringingorangeandpurplelightswhereverI
couldfindroom.AndnowI’vebeenhereallday,helpingSchevaget
readyforherweddingwhenwhatIreallywanttodoistakeanapwith
agiantcontainerofcookie-doughicecream.
Momsetstheboxdownonthetableinfrontofusandgivesmea
sternlook.
“Youshouldbetakingiteasy.Didn’tyoulearnanythinginthat
WhattoExpectWhenYou’reExpectingbookIgaveyouatthestartof
yourpregnancy?”
“Yes.Ilearnednottojumponatrampoline,smokemeth,orhandle
afirearmwhilepregnant,”Ideadpan.
“Allexcellentsuggestions,”Schevamuses.
“Didyoureadthechapterabouthavingmoresextoinducelabor?
AreyouandSamhavingenoughsex?YourfatherandIdiditatleast
threetimesadaywhenIwaspregnantwithyou.Thisonetimeheeven
usedaspatulato—”
Iholdupmyhandtostopherfromtalking,hereyes—thesame
brightgreenshadeasmine—blinkinginconfusionwhenIcutheroff.
Withherlongredhairpulledbackintoalowbunthatshedoesn’teven
needtotouchupwithcolortohidethegrays,wecouldeasilypassfor
sisters.Thethoughtthatmychildwillbeblessedwithgoodgenes
makesmesmiletomyself,beforeIrealizeIwasgettingreadytoscold
mymotherandnowisnotthetimefordistractions.
“Mom,howmanytimesdoIhavetotellyoutostoptellingme
aboutyourandDad’ssexlife?Adaughterdoesnotneedtoknowthese
thingsabouthermother.Ever.”
“Willyoutellyourdaughteraboutthesethings?”sheaskswithan
excitedsmile.
“Nicetry.Notfallingforit.We’renottellingyouwhatwe’rehaving
becausewedon’tevenknowwhatwe’rehaving,”Iremindher.
Mymomhasnotbeenpleasedthatwehaven’tfoundoutthesexof
thebaby.Sheinsistswe’vebeenlyingtoherthiswholetimeandreally
doknowwhatwe’rehaving.Iknowit’sunusualinthisdayandagenot
tofindout,buttherearen’tthatmanysurprisesinlife.SamandIwant
toenjoyeveryminuteofthedayourchildisborn,includingthe
momentwhenthedoctortellsuswhat’sbeengrowinginsideofmefor
thelastninemonths,wreakinghavoconmybodyandmakingmefeel
morepsychoticthanusual.
“Regardless,IthinkyoushouldjusthavemoresexwithSam.Itwill
putsomecolorbackintoyourcheeksandremovethatpermanent
scowlfromyourface,”Mominformsme.
“It’scalledarestingbitchface,Bev,”Schevaaddswithasmile.
“Kissmyass,fucktruck,”Imutter,givingherthefinger.“Youtry
carryingaroundanextrathirtypoundsofweightandfeelinglike
you’resweatingfromeveryinchofyourbody.Mythighsaresweating,
mybackissweating,mypitsaresweating,myvaginaissweating….
I’msweatingfromplacesIdidn’tevenknowcouldsweat.”
Schevascrunchesupherfaceindisgust.
“Nothankyou.Youcouldn’tpaymeenoughtopushahumanoutof
mybodyandruinmyvaginaforever.Howdoesthatthingevengoback
tonormalaftersomethinglikethat?Youknowhow?Itdoesn’t.Ever.
It’sjustabunchofloose,flappyskinthatgetsinthewayandscares
penises,”Schevasays,thoughsheimmediatelyclampshermouthshut
whensheseesthelookofhorroronmyface.“Imean,forother
women,”shecontinues.“Notyou,obviously.You’llhavetheperfect
birth,andtheperfectvagina,andyourlifewillbeawesome!”
Sheholdsupherpalmformetogiveherahighfive,droppingit
afterafewsecondswhenIrefusetosmackmyhandwithhers.
“Bobbie!Whatdidyoudotothesetreatbags?”Momsuddenlyyells
asshebusilypawsthroughtheboxonthetable.
SchevaandImovecloser,peeringintotheboxasMombringsout
oneofthebags,digsaroundinside,andpullsoutahandfulofpills.
“AretheseXanax,Ecstasy,orpotpills?Noel,smelltheseandtell
mewhattheyare,”sheorders,stickingherhanduptomynose.
“That’snothowyouknowthedifferencebetweenpills,Mom.And
howinthehellwouldIknowthedifferenceanyway?”
“Doyoureallywantmetobringupthedayyoutriedtotakeoff
yourclothesduringajobinterview?”sheasks.
“IWASROOFIED!THATWASN’TMYFAULT!”Iscream.
“Andthetimeyouateapotcookieandpeedstandingup?”she
adds.
“Iwasusingashe-funnel,anditwasconvenientandtime-saving,”I
informher.“Besides,thatwasthenightIwasdrunk.ThenightIatea
potcookie,SamandIhadsexonyourwashingmachine,hefounda
pairofcrotchlesspantiesthatwereyours,andwebothalmostcurled
upinthefetalpositionandneverhadsexagain.”
Mymomwipesanimaginarytearfromhereyeandsmilesatme.
“Youhadsexonawashingmachine?Youreallyaremydaughter.I
wassoproud,upuntilthecrotchlesspantiespart.They’reverysexy
andfreeing.I’llbuyyouapair.”Shedropsthehandfulofpillsintothe
boxandgrabsherphonefromthetable.
“Donotbuymeapair.”
“I’mbuyingyouapair.IbettheyhavethemonAmazon.Theyhave
everythingonAmazon.Igotyourdadasslesschapswithtwo-dayfree
shipping,”shestates.
“What’salltheyellingabout?You’rekillingmybuzz,”AuntBobbie
complains,comingupnexttouswithafullmartiniglassinherhand.
“Bobbie,didyouputpotpillsinthetreatbagsfortheguests?”Mom
asks,settingdownherphoneandforgettingallaboutbuyingme
crotchlesspanties,thankGod.
“Whatthehellarepotpills?Andno,Imostcertainlydidnotput
anythinglikethatintothetreatbags,”Bobbiereplies,takingasipof
herdrink.
Momreachesbackintotheboxandgrabsthepills,holdingthem
outforAuntBobbietosee.
“Oh,okay,yeah.Itotallyputthoseinthere.”
Sheleansdownandsniffsthepillsinthepalmofmymom’shand.
“Yep,thoseareEcstasy,”AuntBobbieconfirms.
“See!Iknewyoucouldsmellthedifference,Noel!”Momscoldsme.
“Seriously?That’swhatyou’reworriedaboutrightnow?Aunt
Bobbietriedtoroofieanentirewedding!”
“Andpossiblytheneighborhood.Wemightwanttocheckonthe
treatbagsweputasideforthekids.Also,Ican’tfindthepotbrowniesI
hadinaTupperwarecontainerinthefridge,”AuntBobbieadds.
Weallstareatherforafewseconds,noneofusabletocomeup
withanythingtosaythatwillmakethesituationanybetter.
“What?”sheasks.“Soafewkidsgetalittlehigh.Thereareworse
thingsthatcouldhappen,likeakillerclownontheloose.Lookatitthis
way:Ifhecreepsintheirbedroomwindow,theywon’tevencare!”
Withagroan,weallmakeourwayuptothehouse,eachofus
grabbingboxesoftreatbagssetasidefortheguests.Wenowhaveto
gothroughthemall,aswellasthemorethanthreehundredtrick-or-
treatbagsinsidethehouse.
ItakebackeverythingIsaidaboutwantingtoliveclosertomy
parents.Whoeverboughtthehouseacrossthestreetcanhaveit,along
withmysympathies.
Sam
“That’sit.Theweddingiscancelled!”Alexannounces,walkingintothe
livingroomandthrowinghimselfdramaticallyontothecouchashe
staresatthecellphoneinhishand.
Everyonestopspickingpills,potbrownies,loosepennies,random
piecesofAuntBobbie’smakeup,andtravel-sizedbarsofsoapand
shampoooutofthetreatbagswehavestrewnalloverthelivingroom,
andlooksatAlex.
“Theweddingisintwodays.Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Scheva
asks,pushingherselfupfromthefloor,walkingovertothecouch,and
snatchingthephoneoutofhishand.
“Iftheweddingiscancelled,canIstillkeeptheweddingdresseson
alltheclownsinthefrontyard?Ievenaddedveilstohalfofthem.That
wasalotofworkandI’mnotruiningitnow,”ReggieasksBev.
“Ican’tpossiblygetmarried.Mylifehaslostallmeaning.My
dreamshavedied,”Alexcomplains,restinghiselbowsonhisknees
anddroppinghisheadintohishands.
“Areyouupsetjustbecauseofthissillyemail?”Schevaasks,still
staringathisphone.
Alexlooksupandglaresather.
“It’snotjustANYemail.It’sanemailfromUrbanDictionary.THE
UrbanDictionary.Therulerofallthingsawesomeontheinternet.
Theykilledmyhopesanddreams,Scheva.Doyounotunderstandthe
severityofthissituation?HowcanIpossiblybeagoodhusbandwhen
Ican’tevenbeagoodUrbanDictionary-er?”Alexasks.
“Isthatevenaword?”
“DON’TYOUJUDGEME,SAM!DON’TJUDGEMEUNTIL
YOU’VEWALKEDAMILEINMYSHOESORRECEIVEDA
REJECTIONEMAILTHATHASBROKENYOURHEART!”Alex
shouts.
“Sotheyrejectedaworddefinitionfromyou.It’snottheendofthe
world,”Noelinformshim.
“I…you…how…SHITBALLS!”Alexyells,pointinghisfingerat
her,unabletospeakinanykindofcoherentway.
“WhatisthisUrbanDictionarything?Isitfilledwithstreetslang?
I’vebeentryingtousethewordthugmoreofteninasentence.Ireally
thinkit’smakingadifferenceinmylife,”Bevtellsus.
“It’stheHolyGrailofeverything,Beverly!”Alexstates,throwing
hishandsintheairinfrustration.“Andthey’vedeniedmeentry!”
“OhmyGod,”Schevagroans.“Youseriouslytriedtosubmitthe
phrasebuttholemeattothem?”
“It’sanotherwordforpoop,Scheva,andit’sgenius!Don’tshiton
mybuttholemeat!”Alexargues.
NoelandIbothlaugh,quicklyhidingouramusementwhenAlex
looksatusangrily.
“Ievenprovidedthemwithadefinitionandverywell-thought-out
sentence,justliketheyasked.‘BethwasmadwhenChrislefthis
buttholemeatinthetoilet.’Itwasperfectandinformative,andthey
deniedmyword!”
SchevatossesAlex’sphoneontothecouchcushionsnexttohim
andwalksbackovertotherestofus,takingbackherspotonthefloor
toresumecombingthroughtreatbags.
“Youhaveexactlyfiveminutestomournthelossofyourexclusion
fromUrbanDictionary,andthenyouneedtogetyourassbackto
work.Therearestillpumpkinstocarveandillegalnarcoticstoremove
fromtreatbags,”Schevaannounces.
Alexgetsupfromthecouchandstompsoutoftheroomtowardthe
kitchen,whereapileofpumpkinsiswaiting,alongwithstacksof
newspaperstocatchalltheguts.
Weallworkquietlyuntilsomeoneringsthedoorbell.Bevgetsupto
answerit,andafewminuteslater,walksinwithTodd,oneofthe
neighbors.
“Hi,everyone,sorrytointerrupt,”Toddtellsuswithasmile.
“Well,hellothere,Todd,”Reggiesays,speakingthenamewith
contemptashestaresatthemanstandinginthedoorwayoftheliving
room.
IlookatReggiequestioningly,andheleansclosertowhisperinmy
ear.
“Toddlivesontheothersideoftheserialkillers.Iaskedhimthe
otherdayifhe’dseenanyonecomingandgoing,maybewithawhite
van,butheclaimedhehasn’tseenanything.Iknowhe’slying.Ican
seeitinhiseyes.They’reallsquirrelyandshifty.StupidToddwiththe
shiftyeyes.”
IlookawayfromReggieandtheidioticwordscomingoutofhis
mouthtolistentoToddwhenhestartsspeaking.
“Justwantedtotellyoufolksthatmywifesawthatclownlurking
aroundourhouselastnight,theonethey’vebeentalkingaboutonthe
news.Iwasatthestoreandshegotspookedandcalledthecops.
ThoughtI’dgiveyouguysaheads-upincasetheycomeoverhereand
askanyquestions.Damnthingsscarethehelloutofme.Whyanyone
thinksclownsarefunnyisbeyondme,”Toddstates.
“Thereisnothingwrongwithrednoses,polka-dotclothing,andbig
redshoes,Todd!”Reggieinformshimangrily.
“Okay,well,thankyouforlettingusknow,”Bevinterrupts,
grabbingTodd’sarmandpullinghimoutoftheroom.“We’llbesureto
keepaneyeout.TellLindatogivemeacall.Poordearmustbejust
besideherself.”
“SISSY!”Reggiescreams,justasBevgetsToddtothedoorand
practicallyshoveshimoutofit.
WhenBevcomesbackintotheroom,Reggieisalreadyupfromthe
floorandstalkingpasther.
“Whereareyougoing?Westillhaveaboutahundredmorebagsto
gothrough.”Bevaskshim.
“I’vegotatwelve-foot-tallRonaldMcDonaldsculpturetofinish
painting.Then,I’mgoingtowalkovertoToddandLinda’shouseand
pissontheirfrontlawn,”Reggieinformsherashestompsdownthe
hallwaytothekitchenandthedoorleadingouttothegarage.
“Myweddingisgoingtoberuined!”Schevawails,buryingherface
inNoel’sshoulder.
“Nonsense.Yourweddingisnotgoingtoberuined.Theremightbe
aclownburnedineffigyonourfrontlawn,butyourweddingwillbe
fine,”Bevreassuresher.“IfSamandNoelcansurvivethedisasterof
theirweddingdayandlivetotellthetale,youcansurviveclownsand
Reggieangeringalltheneighbors.We’lljusthireextrasecurity.And
maybeuninviteafewoftheneighbors,justtobesafe.”
Schevastartscryingharder,andNoelpatsherbacksoothingly.
“It’sallfunandgamesuntilyoubuzzkillsmakemeremoveallthe
goodstufffromthetreatbags,”AuntBobbiecomplains,stickingher
handintooneofthebagsandpullingsomethingout.“Ooooooh,that’s
wheremypurplebuttplugwent!Sam,checkthebagsoverbyyou.I’m
stillmissingtwentyPercocets,asparklynecklacethatsayswhoreonit,
andthreesetsofanalbeadsthatglowinthedark.Idon’twantsome
kidtomistakethosethingsforglow-sticknecklaces.Talkabout
awkward.”
Iimmediatelydropthebaginmyhandandpushmyselfawayfrom
thebagsallaroundmylegs.NothingsaysHalloweenlikegettingthree
Snickersbars,aKitKat,andasetofusedanalbeadstoweararound
yourneck.
Noel
“It’sfromtheenemyandthey’retryingtogetinourheads…weaken
ourdefenses,”mydadgrumblesasweallgetoutofourcarsandwalk
insmallgroupstowardthefestivities.
Insteadofatypicalrehearsaldinner,SchevaandAlexdecidedwe
shouldjustspendthenightbeforetheweddingatourtown’s
Halloweenfestival.IttakesplaceatalocalMetroPark,andthereare
foodvendors,pumpkin-carvingcontests,facepaintingforthekids,
andscarymoviesprojectedonahugescreen,withhaybalestositon.
ThewalkingtrailthroughthewoodsisalldeckedoutforHalloween,
withcandlelitjack-o’-lanternslightingthepathanddifferentscary
moviedisplaysthroughout.
“Dad,youwereBOO-zed.It’saHalloweentraditioninalotof
neighborhoods.It’sfunandit’ssweetthatyourneighborsdecidedto
startsomethinglikethatthisyear.It’snotsomeimaginaryenemy
tryingtoscrewwithyou,”Itellhimwithasigh.
Earliertoday,mymomfoundabasketonthefrontporchfilledwith
bottlesofvodka,tequila,whiskey,Fireball,twomasonjarsof
homemadeapple-piemoonshine,andfourshotglasseswithpumpkins
paintedonthem.Thebasketincludedanotethatread:
You’vebeenBOO-ZED!
Theghostsandgoblinslovetospy,
Theynoticedyourliquorcabinethasrundry!
Enjoythesespiritsjustforyou!
NothingsaysHalloweenlikeaWitch’sBrew!
Makeacopyofthisandspreadthegoodcheersoon,
Withintwonightsinthelightofthemoon!
Boozetoyou!
Eversincemymombroughtthebasketintothehouse,mydadhas
beenactingevencrazierthannormal.Hecheckedtheentirehousefor
bugs,closedalltheblindsandcurtains,andwouldn’tletanyonenear
thewindows.Heunpluggedtheirlandlinehousephoneandmade
everyonestoptalkingandwritewhattheyneededtosayonpadsof
paper.
“Noel,itsaysthey’vebeenspyingonus!Theyadmittedthey’reout
togetme.Whywouldtheydothat?It’slikesomesortofreverse
psychology,Iknowit.Theywantmescared.Theywantmeoffmy
game,butit’snotgoingtowork,”DadstatesasSamcomesupnextto
meandlaceshisfingersthroughmine.
“Areyoustilltalkingaboutthatbasketofbooze?”Samasks.“The
apple-piemoonshinewasthebestI’veeverhad.”
DadglancesoveratSamwithwideeyes.
“They’vegottentoyou,haven’tthey?They’vebroughtyouoverto
thedarkside.Ialwaysknewyou’dbetraythisfamily.”
“FortheloveofGod,Dad…”Imutterwitharollofmyeyes.
“Okay,fine.Maybehedidn’tbetrayus.Maybetheypoisonedhim
withthatapple-piemoonshinecrap.Howareyoufeeling,Sam?Alittle
woozy?Lightheaded?HowmanyfingersamIholdingup?”Dadasks,
holdingupthreefingers.
TuggingSam’shand,Ileadhimawayfrommydadbeforehecan
answer,walkingusovertothebooththatsellsticketsforthehayride.
Withaquickheadcount,Itellthewomanbehindthecounterhow
manyweneed,andSampullsouthiswallettopay.
Bythetimewemakeitacrosstheparkinglottothetractorparked
attheedgeofthewoods,climbaboardthewagonhitchedtoit,and
takeseatsonhaybales,mydadhasrunoutofsteamandfinally
stoppedbitchingaboutSambeingpoisonedandhowhe’sgoingtotake
“theenemy”down.
Oneoftheworkersstartsupthetractor,andwetakeoffslowly,
movingintoanotherareaofthewoods,separatefromthewalkingtrail.
Thisoneismorekids-orientedandhasnothingthatwillscarethem.
Thetractortakesusthroughafive-acrepumpkinpatch,filledwith
everylight-up,blow-upHalloweendecorationthereis:pumpkins,
ghosts,blackcats,Frankensteins,andwitchespoppingoutof
cauldrons.Wecountatleastahundred,andIcan’thelpbutsmileat
theexcitementonthefaceofmytwo-year-oldniece,Holly,asshe
pointsateveryoneofthemwithwideeyesandasquealofhappiness.
Placingmyhandsonmystomach,Igiveitalittlerub,imagining
howmuchfunit’sgoingtobewhenSamandIhaveourownchild,
finallyherewithus,inourarms,tocarryonthesetypesoftraditions.
“So,haveyouguyspickedoutnamesyetforyourlittlebundleof
joy?”Alexasksasweallholdontotherailingatourbackswhenthe
tractortakesasharpturn.
“We’vebeentossingafewaround,butwe’renotgoingtopickone
untilwemeetthebabyandseewhichonefits,”Samtellshim.
“Obviouslyyou’regoingtokeepwiththefamilytraditionandpicka
namethatembracesyourlastname,right?”mymomasks.
SamandIsharealook,knowingwemostcertainlyareNOTgoing
tosaddleourchildwithadumbnameliketheonesmybrotherandI
have.ThemainreasonIhatedChristmasuntilImetSamwasbecause
mynamewasNoelHoliday,anditwasdefinitelyfatewhenImetSam
Stockingthatdayintheairportbar.HealsodespisedtheChristmas
seasonbecauseofhisname.Mybrother,Nicholas,neversharedmy
hatred,andwhenhewasgrowingup,hethoughtitwasthecoolest
thingeverwhenpeoplereferredtohimasSaintNickHoliday.Whichis
whyheandCaseyhadnotroublenamingtheirdaughterHolly
Holiday.
Luckily,havingthelastnameofStockingnow,thereisn’ttoomuch
damagewecoulddopickingoutanameforourchild,unlesswenamed
thebabysomethinglikeStinkyStocking.
OrSilkStocking,FishnetStocking,HoleyStocking…shit.Iguess
thereisalotofdamagewecoulddo.Notetoself:Don’tletSammake
anynamedecisionswhenhe’sdrunkandhangingoutwithmyfamily.
“I’mpartialtothenameHung.HungStockinghasaniceringtoit.
Perfectforaboyoragirl,”Alextellsus.
“We’renotnamingourbabyHung,”Ireplywithaheavysigh.
“Fine.ButyoushouldatleastpicksomethingwithaHalloween
theme.”
Mymothernods,andeveryoneelsesilentlyagrees,including
Scheva.Thetraitor.Andthentheyallstartthrowingoutideas,each
onemorehorrifyingthanthenext,untilnooneispayingattentionto
thehayrideortheHalloweendecorationsthatwedriveby.
“Ifit’saboy,youcouldnamehimJack,middlenameO’-Lantern.”
“Noel’sfavoritemovieisTheNightmareBeforeChristmas.If
they’regoingtouseJack,hismiddlenameobviouslyneedstobe
Skellington.”
“Pumpkinisanadorablenameforagirl.Itshoulddefinitelybe
Pumpkin.”
“WhataboutCockGoblinStocking?”
“No,itshoulddefinitelybeBlumpkin.BlumpkinStocking,”Alex
adds.
“WhatintheworldisaBlumpkin?”mymomquestions.
“Blumpkinistheactofperformingfellatiowhiletherecipientis
takingadump,”Alexinformsus.
“That’sthemostdisgustingthingI’veeverheard,”Scheva
complains.
“That’sUrbanDictionary,baby.Doyouseethekindof
amazingnessIwasdenied?Iwasmeantforthatwebsite.Borntobean
UrbanDictionaryking,andI’vebeendeniedmyrightfulplaceonthe
throne,”hecomplains.
Thehayridecomestoanendwithalltheotherfamilieswhowere
unfortunateenoughtobeonthisthingwithmyfamilygivingus
strangelooksastheycontinuethrowingoutnameideas.Aswegetoff
thewagonandheadovertocheckoutthepumpkin-carvingcontest
entries,I’vefinallyhadenoughandholdupbothofmyhands.
“Allright,that’senough.Andwhilewe’reonthissubject,canwe
alsodiscusshoweveryoneneedstostarttoningdowntheirlanguage?
Thisbabyisdueinalittleoveraweek,andyouallneedtostart
learninghowtonotswearinfrontofit.Anddon’tanyofyousayone
wordabouthowI’venevermentionedthisbefore.I’mpregnantand
crabbyandIcandowhatIwant,includingmakespur-of-the-moment
decisionsaboutmychild’sfuturewell-being,”Itellthem.“Nomoref-
bombs,nomoretakingtheLord’snameinvain,noneofit.”
“Whywouldwedothat?That’sdumb,”Alexgrumbles.
“Becauseyoucan’tswearinfrontoftheforkingbaby!Thisbullshirt
stopsnow,”Iargue.
“Wedidn’thavetodothatwhenHollywasborn,didwe,sweetie?”
mydadsays,rufflingthehairontopofHolly’sheadasshewalksnext
tohim,holdingmybrother’shand.
“Wheredafuckpunkinsgo?”Hollyasks,lookingupathimwithher
sweet,innocentface.
“Okay,Iseeyourpoint,”Dadconcedes,smilingdownathis
granddaughter.“Holly,wedon’tsaythatword.It’sabadword.”
“Dafuck,dafuck,dafuck!”shechantsexcitedly,jumpingupand
down.
DadbendsdownandscoopsHollyupintohisarms,walkingaway
fromustotryandexplaintoheragainaboutwordsshecan’tuse.
Samstandsbehindme,slidinghisarmsaroundmywaistand
placingthemontopofmybellyashepullsmebackagainsthim.He
restshischinontopofmyheadaswewatcheveryoneslowlymake
theirwaydowntherowsoftablescoveredwithcarvedpumpkins,
fillingoutvotingcardstochoosetheirfavoriteones.
“Areyousureyoudon’twanttokeepwithyourfamily’stradition
andpickaholiday-themednameforourbaby?”heasksquietly.
“CockGoblinStockingisgrowingonyou,isn’tit?”Ijoke.
IfeeltherumbleofSam’slaughteragainstmyback,andIrestmy
handsontopofhisovermybelly.
“Notexactly,butIdon’treallywantyourfamilytodisownme.
They’recertifiablyinsane,butIkindoflikethem.”
Closingmyeyes,IrestmyheadbackagainstSam’schest,
wonderinghowinthehellIgotsoluckytofindamanlikehim.Ittakes
astrongmantodealwithmyfamilyandactuallylovethem.I’venever
feltmoreluckythanIdorightnowthatIconvincedhimtocomehome
withmeandpretendtobemyboyfriendthatChristmasalmostthree
yearsago.
IhaveafeelingthisisgoingtobethebestHalloweenever,andI
can’twaittokickthingsoffwithAlexandScheva’sweddingtomorrow.
Chapter9:I’minMother-ForkingLabor!
Sam
AswestandunderthetentinReggieandBev’sbackyard,Ismileto
myselfwhenNoelsqueezesthelifeoutofmyhandforthehundredth
timeinthelastfifteenminutesaswewatchAlexandSchevapledge
theirlivestoeachother.Thebrideandgroomarestandingundera
woodenlatticearchcompletelycoveredinorange,red,andyellow
mums.NoelandIstandofftotheirright,Noelunhappilywearinga
giantcardboardboxpaintedtolooklikeanovenwithamagazine
photocut-outofanactualbabycooking,visiblethroughawindowin
theovendoor.I’minachef’shatandapron.Ofcourse,thehappy
coupleisdressedasabrideandgroom,whiletherestofuslooklikewe
felloffthebackofaHalloweencostumetruck.Butsinceit’stheirday,I
won’tcomplain.
Theweathercouldn’tbemoreperfect.Thesunisshiningbrightly,
thetemperatureisinthelowseventies,andallofthetreessurrounding
thebackyardarefilledwithfall-coloredleavesthathaven’tdroppedto
thegroundyet,makingtheperfectbackdropfortheHalloween-
themedceremony.ReggieandBevsitinthefrontrow,dressedasa
priestandanun,astheywereinstructed.Andsurprisingly,every
singleguestinattendanceshowedupwearingacostume.AsIlookout
attherowsofchairsoneithersideoftheaisle,Iseeeverythingfrom
doctorsandnursestoaguyinared-and-whitestripedshirtand
matchinghat,dressedasWaldo(I’mprettyproudofmyselfforfinding
himimmediatelyintheseaofpeople,IkickassatWhere’sWaldo)—
andevenagiantplasticMr.Peanut.
“It’ssosweetyou’regettingemotionalovertheirvows,”Iwhisper
outofthecornerofmymouth,aswestandafewfeetawayfromthe
happycouple.IshootNoelasmilewhenshegivesmyhandanother
death-gripsqueeze.
“I’mnotemotional,”shesaysinalowvoicethroughclenchedteeth.
“Howcouldanyonepossiblybeemotionalwithwhatthey’resaying?”
“IpromisetonevertellyouIhaveaheadachewhenyouwantsex,
andIvowtoalwaysloveyou,evenwhenyousuggestweneedto
spicethingsupwithathreesome.”
AlexwipesatearfromhiseyewhenSchevafinisheshervows.They
quicklyexchangerings,andtheministerdeclaresthemhusbandand
wife.EveryoneseatedstandsupandstartstoclapasAlexandScheva
leaninforakiss,andIsilentlythankGodtheymadeitthroughtheir
ownweddingceremonywithoutanymishaps.
Assoonastheirlipstouch,ashrillscreampiercestheairandall
eyesunderthetentturntoseeAuntBobbieracingupthecenteraisle.
She’swearingawhite,floor-lengthsparklydresscoveredwithred,
yellow,green,andbluefeltcircles.Thedressisskintight,makingher
runlookmorelikeawaddle.Ashort,curly,bright-redwigisaskewon
topofherhead,andhernormallypristinemakeupishorrifying.Her
redlipstickiswayoutsidethelinesandlookslikeshejustdrewagiant
redcirclearoundhermouth,andshecoveredeveryinchofherface
withcakeywhitemakeupthatishalfsweatedoff,halfsmeared,leaving
someofhernaturalskintonepeekingthroughthewhitemess.
“Whatintheactualfork?”Noelmutters.
“Isshedressedlikeadragclown?ShewassupposedtobeBarbra
Streisand!”Schevacomplains.
“OhmyGod.Therearepeoplechasingher,”Imutterwithashake
ofmyheadwhenalargemobofangrypeoplecomesburstingintothe
tent,shoutingandracingafterAuntBobbie.
Theassembledguestsstarttippingoverchairsastheymakeahasty
exitoutofthetentandawayfromwhateverthehellishappeningright
now.
AuntBobbiefliestherestofthewaydowntheaisleandtakescover
behindus,duckingdownandclingingtothebackofmyshirt.
TheangrygroupofpeoplecomestoastoprightinfrontofAlex,
Scheva,Noel,andI.Puttingmyhandsupintheairinasignofpeace,I
takeastepforwardtotalktothem,withAuntBobbiestillholdingtight
tome.
“Thisisprivateproperty,andwe’reinthemiddleofawedding
ceremony.I’mgoingtohavetoaskyoupeopletokindlyleave,”I
informthem.
“Um,Sam?”Noelwhispers.
Istarttolookoveratmywifewhenoneofthemeninfrontofthe
packpointsbehindme.
“Wecaughtherredhanded!Shewasdoingitinbroaddaylight!”he
shoutsangrily.
“Mydaughterhasbeencryingforthreesolidnightsbecauseof
her!”someoneelseyells.
“Sam…”Noelsaysmynameagain,butI’mtoobusytryingtofigure
outwhatthesepeoplearedoinghereandhowtostopanyother
disasterfromruiningAlexandScheva’swedding.
“Whatthehellaretheytalkingabout?”IaskAuntBobbie,turning
myheadtolookbackather.
“So,itturnsout,I’mtheclownfromthenews.IwonderedwhyI
keptwakingupeverymorningwithwhite,cakeymakeupallovermy
faceandpillows.Ishouldprobablystopdoingdrugs,”shewhispers.
“See?!Itoldyouclownsweren’tbad!It’sjustBobbiewithacouple
ofscrewsloose,”Reggiepipesupashewalksawayfromhischairinthe
frontrowtojoinus.
Noel’shandlatchesontomyarmandsqueezeshard.
“Sam.”
Ifigureshe’sprobablyjustupsetaboutthefactthatherAunt
Bobbiehascausedariotwithherstupidity,soItakeanotherstep
forwardtotryanddefusethesituationandgeteveryonetocalmdown.
“WillyouguysgohomeandforgetthiseverhappenedifBobbie
apologizesandpromisestoneverdoanythinglikethisagain?”Iask
thecrowd.
Thereareabunchofmurmursfromthepeopleastheytalk
amongstthemselves.Afterafewminutes,oneofthewomenspeaksup.
“Wewill,butonlyifsheapologizesandyoutakedownthathideous
displayinthefrontyard.It’sscaringsmallchildren,andwe’vehadto
starttakingdetourssowedon’tdrivebythehouse.It’svery
inconvenient.”
“HORSESHIT!”Reggieshouts.“Thatdisplayisnotcomingdown
untilthevotesaretalliedtomorrownightaftertrick-or-treat.I’vegota
titletodefend!”
Thegroupchucklessoftly,andthewomanwiththedemands
speaksagain.
“Reggie,haveyouevenlookedatthedisplayacrossthestreet?It’s
thebestonewe’veeverseen!”
Oh,no.Please,God,no.
“Suchattentiontodetail.Didyouseethejack-o’-lanterns?Those
musthavetakenhourstocarve.”
“AndthegiantJackSkellington?Thatwashand-painted.Bestone
I’veeverseen.”
“Andthelittledog,Zero!Didyouguysseethathistailwags?Idon’t
knowhowtheydidit,butit’sadorable.”
“Haveyouseentheprojectorinthefrontwindows?Itplaysthe
movieagainsttheglass.That’shigh-techandawesome.”
IwatchsilentlyasReggie’sfaceturnsthecolorofatomato,andI
hopetoGodsomeoneherehasanitroglycerinpill,becausehe’sabout
twosecondsawayfromhavingafull-blownheartattack.
RightwhenReggieopenshismouthtolethellfireandbrimstone
raindownoneveryone,Noelletsoutherownbloodcurdlingscream.
“SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!”
Everyoneturnsinherdirection,andmyheartstartsbeatingoutof
mychestwhenIseehowflushedherfaceis.
“Honey?What’swrong?”
Shemumblessomethingunderherbreathasshesqueezeshereyes
closed,andInoticebeadsofsweatpoppingoutonherforehead.
“You’regoingtohavetospeakup.Andjustsoyouknow,Ican’t
takeanythingyousayseriouslyrightnowwhenyou’redressedlikea
kitchenappliance,”Alexlaughs.
“I’MINMOTHERFORKINGLABORANDMYGOSHDINGED
WATERJUSTBROKE!”Noelscreamsatthetopofherlungs.
“See?Itsoundsdumbwhenyou’renotusingrealswearwords.I
toldyouthiswasastupididea,”Alexmutters.Myeyeswideninshock
andmyjawdropswhenIlookdownatNoel’sfeettoseeasmallpuddle
ofwater.
InallthebabybooksI’veread,theytellyounottopanic.You
shouldremaincalm,haveaplan,andfollowit.Butourplanwasn’t
supposedtogointoeffectforanotherweekandOHMYFUCKING
GODMYWIFEISINLABOR!
“Whatdoyouneedmetodo?”Iaskherwhenshebendsatthe
waistandsmacksherhandagainsttheovendoorofhercostume,
whereahappybabyislyingonitsback,lookingoutateveryonewitha
gummysmile.
“GETTHISSTUPIDSPORKINGCOSTUMEOFFME!I’MNOT
GIVINGBIRTHDRESSEDLIKEANOVENWITHABABYCOOKING
AT450DEGREES!”shescreamsthroughclenchedteethasshewinces
inpainwithanothercontraction.
Everyonemovesatonce,helpingmeripthecardboardboxaround
Noelintoahundredpiecesuntilshe’sstandingnexttomeinatanktop
andyogapants,bothofherhandsflyingtoherstomachassheyellsout
inpain.
“INEEDADOCTOR!SOMEONEGETMEADOCTOR!”Iscream
atthetopofmylungs.
Nolessthanfifteenmenandwomeninscrubscomerunningupto
us,pushingpeopleoutofthewayastheygo.Irollmyeyesasthey
hoveraroundus.
“Imeantrealdoctors,”Icomplain,wonderingwhyinthehellso
manypeopledecidedtodressupasmedicalpersonnelforthis
wedding.
“Wearerealdoctors!”theyshoutinunison.
Ipointattheguystandingclosesttome.
“No,youaren’t.Especiallyyou,Greg.AlexandIworkwithyou.”
Gregfromworkmovesclosertomeandlowershisvoice,looking
backoverhisshoulderatScheva.
“Schevatolduswehadtostayincharactertodayorshe’dchopoff
ourballs.ButIsawacowbirthonTVonce.Icantotallydothis.Have
yourwifetakeoffherpantsandgetonallfours.”
BeforeIcanpunchGregintheface,Schevacomesrushingoverto
usandwrapsherarmsaroundNoel.
“Ijustcallednine-one-one.Ambulanceshouldbehereanysecond
now.OhmyGod.You’regoingtohaveababytoday!”shetellsNoel.
“Whyinthehellwouldyoucallnine-one-one?Mycarisrightout
front,”IremindScheva.
“Um,becauseIdon’thaveanyonewearinganEMSworkercostume
atmywedding,Sam.HowwillthepictureslookifIdon’thaveanEMS
workerinthemix?Jesus,getyourshittogether,Sam,”Schevamutters
witharollofhereyes.
“Iruinedyourwedding,”Noelsobstoherbestfriend.
MovingtostandinfrontofNoel,Itakeherfaceinmyhandsand
wipethetearsfromhercheeksasSchevagivesheragentlesqueeze.
“Youdidn’truinanything.Yourbuniscomingoutoftheoven.It’s
perfect!”Schevareassuresheraswehearthewailoftheambulance
sirenoutfront.
Bendingdown,IscoopNoelupintomyarms,andAlexandScheva
moveinfrontofus,clearingapathandtellingpeopletogetoutofthe
way.Theparamedicsmeetusonthesideofthehousewithagurney,
andtheyhelpmegetNoelsituatedandbuckledin.Igrabherhandand
giveitakissasIrunbesideher,thenhelpthemloadherintotheback
oftheambulance.
“Honey,we’llberightbehindyou!Makesuretheysavemeapairof
scrubsforthedeliveryroom!”BevshoutstoNoelwithawaveaswe
bothstareoutatthemthroughtheambulancedoors.
“Makesuretheysavemetheafterbirth!Ihearit’shighinprotein!”
Alexaddswithathumbsup.
ThedoorsclosewithaslamandIsitdownonthebenchnexttothe
gurney,onehandstillholdingtightlytoNoel’sasIusetootheroneto
smoothsweatystrandsofhairoffherforeheadandcheeks.
“We’regoingtohaveababy,”Iwhispertoherwithasmile,myeyes
fillingwithtears.
“We’regoingtohaveababy,”shewhispersbackastheparamedic
startsanIVlineinherotherarm.“Pleasedon’tletanyofthosecrazy
peopleinthedeliveryroomtostareatmyvagina.”
Ichucklesoftlybeforeleaningdownandkissingthetopofher
head.Noelsqueezesmyhandharderandstartstakingchanting
breathsthroughacontraction.
“Iwillguardthedeliveryroomandyourvaginawithmylife,”I
reassureherastheambulancesailsthroughintersectionsandstop
signsandgetsustothehospitalinrecordtime.
Noel
“Honey,wakeup.We’rehere.”
ThesoundofSam’svoicestirsmeawake,andIrubmyeyesandsit
uphigherinthefrontseatofthecar.
“SorryIfellasleep,”Itellhimwithayawnasheunbuckleshisseat
belt.
“Noel,youjustgavebirthlastnight.You’reallowedtosleep
wheneveryouwant,”hetellsmewithasmile.
Webothturnaroundandstareatthecarseatintheback,ourbaby
nestledinit,fastasleep.
“Ican’tevenstandhowbeautifulsheis,”Iwhisper.
“Ofcourseshe’sbeautiful,haveyouseenhermother?”
Lookingawayfromourdaughter,Ismileatmyhusbandandlean
overthecenterconsoletokisshim.Sambringsbothofhishandsupto
cupmycheeksasIpullback,andstaresintomyeyes.
“Thankyouformakingmeafather,”hetellsmesoftly,emotion
fillinghisvoice.
“ThankyoufornotwantingtodivorcemewhenIsawherfaceand
knewimmediatelywhathernameshouldbe.”Ilaughsoftly.
ChristmasHolidayStocking,Christyforshort,wasbornatexactly
12:01a.m.,makingherthefirstofficialHalloweenbabyinoursmall
town.
Iknow,Iknow.Irefusedtoeversaddlemychildwithaninsane
nameandcarryonthetraditionmyfamilystarted,butIcouldn’thelp
it.Itookonelookatherperfect,tinypinklips,perfectpinkcheeks,
perfectpudgylittlefingers,lookedoveratmyfamily—whoSamwas
unabletokeepoutofthedeliveryroom,allwithtearsfallingdown
theircheeks,includingmyfather—andknewIhadnootherchoice.
Asinsaneasmyfamilyis,they’restillmyfamily.Ilovethem
unconditionally,andI’mproudtobeapartofthem.Ineverwant
Christytofeellikesheshouldbeashamedorembarrassedaboutbeing
inthisfamily,eventhoughI’msureeveryonewillgiveherplentyof
reasonstofeelthatway.Andontopofthat,herfatherandImetat
Christmas.Bringinghimhomefromtheairportbarwasthebest
decisionIevermade.Iwouldn’thaveherifInevertookthatleap.And
eventhoughshe’sonlybeenmineforsixteenhours,Ican’timaginemy
lifewithoutherinit.
TiltingmyheadtothesideandoutofSam’shands,Ilookoverhis
shoulderandoutthedriver’ssidewindowinconfusion.
“Wait,whyareweparkedacrossthestreetfrommyparents’house?
Ithoughtweweregoinghomeandeveryonewascomingoverforan
earlydinnerbeforetrick-or-treating?”Iask.
EventhoughHalloweenismyfavoritenightoftheyear,Icouldn’t
possiblybesadaboutmissingitthisyear,whenI’dbespendingthe
eveningstaringatmydaughter.
Samdoesn’tsayawordashegetsoutofthecar.Iwatchashewalks
aroundthefrontofthevehicle,openingthebackseatdoorbehindme
andcarefullyunbucklingChristyfromhercarseat.Hegentlyliftsher
outandtucksheragainsthischestbeforeopeningmydoorand
holdingouthishandforme.
Hepullsmeoutofthefrontseatandclosesthedoorbehindme,
wrappinghisarmaroundmywaistandturningthethreeofusaway
fromthecar,whichisparkedalongthecurbacrossfrommyparents’
house.
“Wearehome,”Samtellsmewithanervoussmile.
Henodsatthehousewe’restandinginfrontof,theoneacrossthe
streetfrommyparents’house,andIstareupathim,myheartbeating
faster.
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Iwhisper.
Leaningdown,hekissesthetopofmyhead.
“Welcomehome,baby.”
MymouthopensandcloseswordlesslyasIlookbackandforth
betweenmyhusbandandthehouseofmydreams.
“No,youdidn’t…”Imutter,wonderingifI’mstillbackatthe
hospital.MaybeIhaven’treallybeendischargedyet,andI’mstill
asleepinmyhospitalbed,havingthebestdreamever.
“Idid.And,fulldisclosure,Ihaven’tbeenworkinganyovertimethe
lastmonth.I’vebeenbusygettingthesedecorationsbuiltandsetup.”
Ithinksomeoneneedstopinchme.Orthrowabucketofcoldwater
onmyface.Myeyesquicklyfillwithtears,andtheNightmareBefore
Christmasyarddecorationsbecomeonebigblur.
“Ican’tbelieveyoudidthis.Youreallyboughtmemydreamhouse?
Youreallyspentallthistimedecoratingthefrontyardwiththings
frommyfavoritemovie?”Iask,thetearsfallingfastandharddownmy
face.
“OfcourseIdid.Assoonasthehousewentonthemarket,your
momcalledmeandtoldmeaboutitandhowyou’dalwayslovedthis
house.Iknowyou’vebeenworriedaboutbeingsofarawayfromyour
familyonceChristyarrived,andIdidn’twantyoutoworryabout
anything.Iwanttomakeallyourdreamscometrue,Noel,justlike
you’vedoneforme.”
Turningtofacehim,Iwrapmyarmsaroundhiswaist,carefulnot
tosquishoursleepingdaughterbetweenus.
“ButAlexistheonlyonewhoknewIactuallyboughtthehouseand
havebeendecoratingit.Iwantedtowaittotelleveryoneelseuntil
afterItoldyou,”hesayswithasmile,reachingupwithhisfreehandto
wipethetearsoffmycheeks.
“Howinthehelldidyouevenmanagetodoallthiswithoutanyone
seeingyou?”
Samgivesmeanotherheart-stoppingsmile.
“AreyouforgettingI’maMarine?I’vetrainedforyearsforshitlike
this.Ispentmonthscanvassingtheneighborhoodatdifferenttimesof
thedaythroughouttheweek,soIknewwhentheneighborswouldn’t
behomeandIcouldunloadallofmydecorationsandsuppliesintothe
garage.ThenI’dgetupinthemiddleofthenight,whileeveryonewas
sleeping,donmycamogear,andcreeparoundtheyardinthedark,
settingeverythingup.”
Thesmileonmyfaceimmediatelyfalls,andmyhappiness
suddenlyturnstoworry.
“Youboughtmemydreamhouseandspentallthistimedecorating
thefrontyard,”Isayagain,inasoft,nervousvoice.
Samlaughs,lookingdownatmequizzically.
“Prettysurewealreadyestablishedthat.”
Ishakemyheadathim,tryingtomakehimunderstandwithout
screaming.
“You.Decorated.It.”
Samstillisn’tgettingwhatI’mtryingtosay,andrightwhenIopen
mymouthtospellitout,there’saloudcommotionfromacrossthe
street.
“SORRY,GUYS!IHADTOSPILLTHEBEANS!”Alexshoutsfrom
myparents’frontporchasmydadshoveshimoutofthewayand
comesracingdownthestepsinourdirection.
“Oh,shit.Idecoratedit,”Sammutters,finallyunderstandingthe
gravityofthesituation.
“I’LLKILLYOU,YOULITTLESHIT!”Dadscreamsashetripsover
oneofhisclowns,quicklyrightinghimselftocontinuechargingacross
theyardtowardus.
SamhastilypassesChristyovertomeandgivesmeakissonthe
cheek.Withonelastlookatthetwoofus,heglancesoveratmydad
runningfullspeedacrossthestreetandtakesoffrunningdownthe
sidewalk.
“IFIDON’TSURVIVETHIS,TELLOURDAUGHTERILOVE
HERANDIWASONCEABRAVEMAN!”Samshoutsoverhis
shouldertome.
“DON’TYOUMEANASTUPIDMAN?”Iyellback.
“THATTOO!”Samrepliesbeforehedisappearsaroundthecorner
oftheblock.
Mydadmakesitovertomeandrunsrightbywithoutaword,his
sightssetonmyhusbandandhowmuchbodilyharmhecandoifhe
managestocatchhim.
“DAD!DON’TYOUDAREKILLMYHUSBAND!”Ishout.
Heignoresmeandcontinuesrunning,andIshakemyheadas
Alex,Scheva,mymom,andAuntBobbiejoinmeonthecurbinfront
ofmydreamhome.
MymomimmediatelytakesChristyfrommyarmsandstarts
cooingather,runningthepalmofherhandgentlyoverhersoft,red
hair.
“Thatblurwhojustranpastwasyourgrandfather,Christy,andhe’s
insane.Yes,heis.He’sacrazyman!”mymomtellsherinaliltingbaby
voice.
“Goodnews:Icalledthepumpkinfarmanddisguisedmyvoice.
They’redeliveringfourcasesofapplebutterbytomorrow,”Aunt
Bobbieannounces.
“AndyourAuntBobbielikestodokinkythingswithapplebutter,”
Schevainformsmydaughter,bendingdownandkissingoneofher
pudgylittlecheeks.
“Canwepleaseholdoffonteachingmychildwhatkinkymeans?”I
ask,watchingeveryonecrowdaroundmymomandstaredownat
Christywithsmilesontheirfaces.
“Howlongarewegoingtogivethosetwoidiotsbeforesomeone
goesafterthem?”Alexasks,staringoffintothedistancewhereSam
andmydaddisappeared.
Schevapullsherphoneoutofthepocketofherjeansandchecks
thetime.
“We’vegottwohoursbeforetrick-or-treatingstarts.Let’sgosetup
thefirepitinthedrivewayandthetableoffoodandcandy.Ifthey’re
notbackbythetimewe’refinished,I’llgolookforthem,”shetellsus.
Weallcrossthestreettomyparents’housetogetthingsready,and
Ipauseinthemiddleofthestreet,takingamomenttolookbackatthe
houseSamboughtforme.
Whowouldhavethoughtthatalmostthreeyearsago,whenIwas
unemployed,homeless,andalone,thatI’dfindthemanofmydreams,
fallinlove,andhaveababy,andthatallofmydreamswouldcome
true?
Definitelynotme,andyet,hereIam.Idon’tknowhowlifecould
getmuchbetterthanthis.
Ijoinmyfamilyandfriendsinmyparents’driveway.Alexhasset
uptablesforus,andwesetoutallthetreatbags,whichnolonger
includeillegalnarcoticsorsextoys;lightthecandlesinallthejack-o’-
lanternsspreadaroundthefrontlawnandthewhiteluminarybags
liningthedriveway;andstartbringingouttraysoffoodandcoolersof
drinkstosharewiththerestoftheneighborhood.
Samandmydadmakeitbacktothehousejustasthefirstgroupof
trick-or-treaterswalksupthedriveway,bothofthemcallingatruce
untilthefestivitiesareover.WithChristyinhercarseatontopofthe
table,sleepingthrougheverything,Ienjoyafewglassesofapple-pie
moonshinewithmyhusband,sinceI’mnotnursingChristy;Idecided
toformulafeedherforthesakeofmyownsanity.Idaydreamaboutall
oftheHalloweenswe’llgettocelebratewithmyfamily,inthehouse
acrossthestreet,withourveryowntrick-or-treatersandtablefullof
goodies.
“HappyHalloween,”ItellSamwithasmileasIwrapmyarm
aroundhiswaistandlookupathim.
“HappyHalloween,”hereplies,leaningdowntokissthetipofmy
nose.“Don’tworry,yourdadwon’tkillmeaslongasIdon’twinthe
decoratingcontest.Ialreadyspokewithabunchoftheneighborsand
toldthemnottovoteformethisyear,sincetechnicallywehaven’t
beenlivinginthehouse.Butjustbeprepared.Nextyear,it’swar.”
Ilaughandshakemyheadathim,knowingI’llneverbeableto
believemyluckthatIwasabletofindamanwhofitsinwiththis
familysoperfectly.
DON’TMISSTHESEOTHERTITLESFROMUSA
TODAYBESTSELLINGAUTHORTARASIVEC
THEHOLIDAYS
TheStockingWasHung
CupidHasaHeart-On
TheFireworkExploded
TheBunnyIsComing
FOOLMEONCE
ShameonYou
ShameonMe
ShameonHim
CHOCOLATELOVERS
SeductionandSnacks
FuturesandFrosting
TroublesandTreats
CHOCOHOLICS
LoveandLists
TattoosandTatas
PassionandPonies
BakingandBabies
PLAYINGWITHFIRE
ABeautifulLie
BecauseofYou
WornMeDown
ClosertotheEdge
IGNITE
Burned
Branded
STANDALONES
JedHadtoDie(11/2016)
BelowDeck(3/2017)
Fisher’sLight(3/2015)
WorththeTrip(AFisher’sLightCompanionNovella)(5/2015)
TheStoryofUs(6/2017)
BuryMe(8/2015)
WatchOverMe(6/2013)
VISITHERAT
TaraSivecisaUSATodaybestsellingauthorandtheBestIndie
AuthorintheIndieRomanceConventionReader’sChoiceAwardsin
2014.ShelivesinOhiowithherhusbandandtwochildren.
.
ThankyouforbuyingthisSwerveebook.
Toreceivespecialoffers,bonuscontent,andinfoonnewreleasesand
othergreatreads,signupforournewsletters.
Orvisitusonlineat
Theseareworksoffiction.Allofthecharacters,organizations,andeventsportrayedinthese
novellasareeitherproductsoftheauthors’imaginationsorareusedfictitiously.
THEPUMPKINWASSTUFFED
.Copyright©2018bySt.Martin’sPress.
“ThePumpkinWasStuffed”copyright©2018byTaraSivec
Allrightsreserved.Forinformation,addressSt.Martin’sPress,175FifthAvenue,NewYork,
N.Y.10010.
CoverdesignbyAnnetteDefex
Coverphotographs:man©FXQuadro/Shutterstock.com;lantern©ArinaP
Habich/Shutterstock.com
ISBN978-1-250-14825-4(ebook)
FirstEdition:April2018
OureBooksmaybepurchasedinbulkforpromotional,educational,orbusinessuse.Please
contacttheMacmillanCorporateandPremiumSalesDepartmentat1-800-221-7945,ext.
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Document Outline
- Copyright Notice
- THE PUMPKIN WAS STUFFED
- Chapter 1: Everyone Loves Clowns
- Chapter 2: Babies Do Not Go in Ovens
- Chapter 3: Apple-Butter Lube
- Chapter 4: It’s So Tingly
- Chapter 5: The Baby Knows
- Chapter 6: Phteven
- Chapter 7: Smell These Pills
- Chapter 7: Butthole Meat
- Chapter 8: Hung Stocking
- Chapter 9: I’m in Mother-Forking Labor!
- Chapter 10: Stupid Man
- About the Author
- Contents
- Copyright Page
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