The slight autumn breeze carries the scent of crushed leaves, cornstalks, and caramel apples. The park is filled with kids in every costume imaginable. My favorite is the boy inside an inflatable T. rex. The big dino head sags to one side, but the kid doesn’t seem to notice that he’s suffered a blowout as he runs around gathering little pumpkins.
Meredith introduces me to other mothers she knows, and I’m a little reluctant to say more than a polite hello. I don’t know if these women knew me before, if they liked me, or if I slept with their husbands.
“Did Marvin and Claire tell you about the dinner I made for them?” I ask Meredith while we watch Rowan run around the patch with Magnus in search of the perfect little pumpkins for herself and Georgie. Her red hair catches fire in the afternoon sun, and her cat ears slide down the back of her head.
“They mentioned it.”
“I don’t think they liked it.”
Meredith adjusts the hat atop her auburn hair and says, “They said it was interesting.”
“Which means they didn’t like it.” Spider-Man and Batman run screaming past us like maniacs on a mission. Super Mario is close on their heels.
“They’re trying.”
“I know they’re tryin’. I’m tryin’, too, but I’m never goin’ to be the daughter they raised. That has to be devastatin’. I understand, but I don’t know what to do.”
“Just be yourself.”
I look at her cute face and freckles. I swear, she’s such a good person. All the time. I try to live as Jesus did, but I’m too quick to anger. “I am bein’ myself, and that’s what horrifies them!”
“Not always.”
We catch each other’s eyes and start laughing.
“Can we go in the corn now?” Rowan dumps three pumpkins in the wagon, but her mother tells her to take one back for the other children. “Magnus needs one,” she argues. Her lips and tongue are red from a cherry sucker she shares with Magnus when her mother isn’t watching.
Meredith makes a turnaround motion with her finger, then points to the patch.
“I think Burton is horrified,” I say, but to be fair, I can count the number of times we’ve been in the same room on one hand.
“He’ll come around. He’s still having a hard time with your memory loss.”
And holding fast to his position on my ELAA list. “Do you believe me?”
“I believed you the first night when you were so kind and gentle to Rowan. The old you never would have been able to pull that off.”
“Was I horrible?”
Rowan jumps in the wagon, and Meredith being her diplomatic self says, “No. Not horrible.”
/> The wagon takes up too much room in the corn maze, and I volunteer to stay and guard it with Georgie. “We’ll get to know each other.” I pick him up in his big, padded costume with floppy brown ears. His blue eyes get huge as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m okay or if he needs to start bawling. I’ve never really been around kids, so I don’t know what to expect.
This time last year, I was winching myself into a wench costume before Lida and I made the rounds, starting with the Drunken Buzzard’s costume contest and ending at Shorty’s One Shot’s Halloween Booooze Bash.
“Hey, young man.” His eyes get even bigger, and I sing so maybe he won’t cry. “The stars at night, are big and bright… deep in the heart of Texas.” I don’t cringe anymore when I hear Edie’s pitchy singing voice, but I’m not exactly thrilled. Instead of crying, he puts his chubby little hand over my mouth. “Don’t judge,” I mutter beneath his palm. He gives me a drooling grin and shoves his fingers in my mouth, gets a good grip on my bottom lip, and pulls. “Owwwch!” He laughs like my pain is hysterical, and the more I say “owwwch,” the funnier it gets for him.
Last year I was knocking back Fireballs and having a good ol’ time. This year, I’m letting a small child rip my face off because it’s keeping him happy.
Just as Georgie and I come to an understanding about where he can put his hands, Meredith, Rowan, and Magnus exit the corn maze. No, make that Meredith, Rowan, Magnus, and Oliver. They walk toward Georgie and me, laughing like happy campers, and my day takes a left turn toward unhappy camper. Since I saw him I’ve written two more songs in Oliver’s honor. One is titled “Diablo.”
“Uncle Oliver found us.” Rowan holds the dog leash in one hand and Oliver’s hand with the other.
“Hello, Edie.” He’s still as handsome as ever, but I am now immune to his green eyes and enviable lashes.
“Oliver,” I say like his name leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
“How are you?”