Part 4 of "All Saints' Day"

Story is complete. Here is a link to the first three parts in one (large) entry. Part four begins below. Thanks for reading; I'd appreciate any specific feedback.
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Walking down the street, even in the dusk, I felt ridiculous. I’d put on all kinds of weird costumes when I was a kid and walked around. I once dressed up as a ninja and walked over to Brendan’s house in broad daylight, and that was March. What was it about turning thirteen? Since then I feel like everyone was analyzing me with their eyes. Sure I looked a little silly as a six-foot tall clown in a corduroy jacket and plaid golf pants and moon boots, but it was much more realistic than a ninja. At least I had my pillow case to show I had a good reason for looking like an idiot. It didn’t help, though, that I walked past four sets of kindergarteners guarded by moms or dads who gave me funny looks.

I walked up to Katie's house as the dark finally began to take over from the sunny day we'd had. Her house is a split level, white with red trim. When it's spring or summer there are flowers in carefully planted beds and the bushes are all sculpted in neat shapes. Her mom and dad got divorced a few years ago, and I thought the house would fall apart. If anything it got better. Char Tibbets, Katie's mom has more energy, more more time on her hands, than anyone I know.

Arriving early at Katie’s place at 5:45, I became the official candle lighter. Her Mom, Char, who hates being called Ms. Tibbets, erupted in praise over my costume as she would for everyone who showed up at her door that night. Dressed as Dorothy from Wizard of Oz in her plaid blue dress and glittery shoes, she handed me the lighter and set me to work on the eight real jack o’ lanterns, the nine ceramic ones, and the other random candles in the house. A lot of moms like me. I guess it’s 'cause I show up early.

The other guests would arrive at 6:15, so I had plenty of time to answer Char’s endless questions while Katie finished decorating cookies in the kitchen dressed as a doctor in OR scrubs borrowed from her uncle, the surgeon. It’s not that I minded talking to Char, but how was I supposed to bask in the glory of Katie when I have to crane my neck to glimpse her from the living room?

Thankfully, Amina and Corrine arrived to distract Char with their respective costumes, cop and, of course, Tinkerbelle. Amina, short with a baby face and glasses looked so cute it was silly in the cop outfit; it made her look even younger. Corrine didn’t look half as good as she probably thought she did as Tinkerbelle. Plus she was wearing dark leggings because it was so cold. In any case both costumes had very little to do with anyone dying, which I guessed would be good when Brendan showed up.

Kellen, Colin, and Alex all showed up together to face the slightly creepy enthusiasm of Char: "Oh my gosh, look at you three! Avast ye swabs! Don't steal me booty!" Did she really say booty? Yes.

All three were pirates, and they prided themselves on assembling their costumes out of thrift store clothes. The only thing they bought new were plastic swords, one of which they had broken from screwing around on the way over. They had invited me to join them in being a pirate, but I always kind of felt like the three of them had something that I wasn’t a part of. so I said no.

We planned out our route, no one really wanting to stay out for too long. Katie drew a map of the streets we would hit: Lancelot, Guinevere, Camelot, Percival. We could loop back on Percival to Avalon Dr. and have plenty of time for the movie. We would watch Happy Feet, a DVD on Katie’s shelf, which contained many possible choices that had nothing to do with Halloween. I couldn’t stand the thing, but then again, I’d only seen previews and commercials for it. Besides, Katie liked it, and I could try to share some of her interests with her. Love may or may not be blind, but it sure has crappy taste in movies.

At 6:38, a knock on the door raised Char’s energy level to critical as she gripped the candy bowl tightly in her hands and bolted for the door. Instead of the pre-pubescent chorus of “Trick or Treat” I expected, and secretly thought was adorable, I heard a muffled voice from behind a skull mask.

"Hey, Mrs. Tibbets, it’s me, Brendan.” He lifted the mask up as if he wanted to prove it, but I couldn’t see his face from the kitchen. The porch light cast a shadow from the hood over his face.

“Of course, Brendan…Come in.” Char looked a little disarmed by the black-robed figure stalking through her front door wielding a plastic scythe.

It was the same costume Brendan had worn last year. I looked at Katie, expecting her to look at me in some kind of shared disbelief, but she just looked and Brendan, maybe a little sadly.

Brendan smiled at us from beneath the yanked-up skull mask. “Hey guys, two things,” he began. “I’m sorry I’m late, and I realize that this is last year’s costume, but I’ve been busy.” He gave kind of a quiet laugh.

Alex must have felt like he had to say something. “Hey dude, it still looks awesome.” He sounded louder, higher-pitched than usual.

“Yeah, B, it’s still way scary,” added Amina. “And who says you have to be something new every year, right?”

“So enough with the small talk; let’s get candy.” He held up a pillow case covered in black spray paint.

Char, regaining her mom-ness, announced, “OK gang, I want to get a picture of all of us. Stand by the fire place.”

I imagined how the picture would look: the grim reaper surrounded by some of the least Halloween-ish characters imaginable. As if the angel of death had on a busy night visited and collected souls from the Carribean, a police station, Neverland, and a circus. We all grouped together, arms around shoulders, and waited for the red light to start flashing.

“Oooh, Brendan? I just thought of something,” Char interrupted. “That costume might be hard to see. Will you wear my jogging vest?” The camera flashed.

“Sure.” Brendan is never one to turn down a concerned parent’s meddling.

Char opened the downstairs closet and took out a neon orange and green vest with reflective patches on the back. I suppose it works great for reminding those cars not to run into her when she’s jogging. Brendan raised his mask again to put it on. He had a small smile on his face as he slipped his arms through the holes and pulled the vest closed over his robes. “How do I look?” He flipped the mask back down and stood up tall.

“Like the scariest crossing guard ever,” Colin shouted.

I let myself laugh a little bit. It was great having us all here, but I couldn’t let go of what happened to Mrs. Roberts and how she should have been here and how totally unfair and crappy that she wasn’t and her son was dressed as Death himself and having a good old time. I needed to say something, but what? And when?
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All of us went from house to house on the planned streets hearing about how old we were to be trick or treating. Brendan had bet me a quarter of his haul this year that we would hear it at least 25 times. This sounded a bit too much, but the way things went, it came pretty close: 23 times, many more if you count the number of times people looked like they wanted to say it. We had it coming as gangly teenagers, some of whom needed to shave at least weekly and some of whom had breasts beneath our borrowed doctor clothes. There was no way I would ever trick or treat again, and it felt wrong, like staying after school for no real reason. Everyone wants you gone, and you can totally understand why.

About halfway through, we decided to split up a bit. Brendan went with Corrine, Katie, and Alex. The rest of the pirates and Amina asked me to go with them. Kellen. Colin were about the funniest guys I knew, so a good time was guaranteed. The way things went, it seemed like there was some kind of ulterior motive, though.

Amina practically dragged me into her group. I’m kind of clueless sometimes anyway, but it seemed like there was something going on that they didn’t want me to know about. What was I going to do about it? Call them all out at once and throw a fit?

My group took Percival Drive and the others walked down Lancelot in the other direction. I kept turning my head to see the other group. As they passed under the streetlights, I noticed Katie and Brendan walking together. It seemed like every time the stepped out of the dark and into the zones of light under the lamps they were further behind the other two. Mrs. Tibbets’s jogging safety vest made them even more visible. I tripped over Kellen twice because I was walking with my head craned around trying to figure out what Brendan and Katie might be talking about. Finally, and fortunately for Kellen, I couldn’t see them anymore and I was able to walk like a half-way normal person.

It was getting later, so houses had either turned off their lights or were giving out extra candy because they had bought too much. All the little kids were gone too, just fifth graders and older, really: the kids who probably shouldn’t have been trick or treating anymore.

The half moon had just risen over the horizon, and as if it was sucking the warmth out of the night, we began to wish we had dressed for the cold. A few of the fifth and sixth graders were wearing ski coats that covered up their costumes. We soldiered on and made due. I loaned my jacket out to Colin who was wearing a torn up dress shirt with nothing on underneath. It looked really “pirate-y” but probably wasn’t the best choice for late October in Spokane. Eventually, there were few houses with their lights still on, and it must have been 30 degrees, so we decided to just pick up the pace and walk straight back to Katie’s.

We made good time and walking faster warmed us up a bit. Kellen, Amina, Colin, and I didn’t say much on the way back, so it gave me time to prepare what I wanted to say to Brendan. I wanted to ask him why he hadn’t mentioned his mom being dead. I wanted to ask him how he was able to laugh and goof around just like normal. I wanted, no, demanded, to know why I felt worse about his mom dying than he did. And while I was at it, why I had to dress up as a clown while he got to dress up as the guy who takes souls to Heaven or Hell, either of which Mrs. Roberts was in right now.

All my well rehearsed and self-righteous lines fell out of my head like books from an unzipped backpack when I saw Katie and Brendan hugging on the corner of Percival and Avalon in the dusty light of a street lamp. It was way too long to be a friendly hug. My stomach bounced up to my chin and back down, and I knew why I had been separated.

Amina called out, a bit too loudly, “Hey guys. How’d it go?

“It went OK,” Katie called, unlatching her arms from around Brendan as if it was no big deal that my best friend was clearly betraying me with the girl I loved. I had to smile to keep from screaming. I couldn't look at her.

We walked back as a group to Katie’s house with me taking up the rear. There must have been a good 10 feet between me and the rest, but I was grateful. My eyes felt like they were starting to leak. I couldn’t handle it. I rationed my breaths and concentrated on walking. Had anyone asked me anything or looked at me, I would have totally lost it. I tried the vault, but it must have been full of all the bad jokes and things I was never supposed to stay. This was too big to cram in there.

The group clomped up Char’s front porch and headed inside. I don’t know where I got the nerve, or maybe I just couldn’t have taken it if we’d gone inside, but I said, almost shouted, “Brendan can we talk for a second?” I’d said it so fast, I wasn’t sure if he heard me.

Halfway through the front door, he turned and looked at me, then out at the street. “Yeah, man, OK. Hey, Col, an Tyler have his jacket back?”

I hadn’t noticed how cold I was.

We walked down the aging wooden steps of the porch to the cement path that led from the driveway. The half moon looked smaller now, but it still coated the yard and street with a soft blue. Across the way, the streetlamp cast the only other major light. Brendan and I walked down to the end of the driveway without saying anything.

“So what’s up, Ty?”

This was something I should have scripted, but I just started talking instead. "I noticed… I saw,” my hands were shaking, drumming on my thighs, “that you and Katie are kinda, you uhh, what’s going on with you two?”

“I was afraid of this,” Brendan sighed.

“So you guys are going out?”

“No. No, she and I are still just friends. We just hugged as friends.”

“It looked…” Tears. “Like more than friends, man. You know I’ve liked her for a long time.” I sobbed out my words.

“She asked me out, you know?”

I squinted at him. I wanted to hit him, not because of what he'd done, but because of who he was, my best friend.

“She asked me, and I said no.” He breathed hard into his cupped hands. The steam escaped from cracks in his fingers. “I said no, and I said you liked her.”

“You did what?” I was on fire now. My hands shot up near my temples and smudged the clown make up down my face.

“She’s like my sister, dude.”

“But why’d you tell her I liked her?” Having him tell her was not part of my plan. It screwed everything. A car was coming, its headlights like pointed stars through the water in my eyes. It took me a second to realize I had paced into the middle of the street and another second the remember what to do if a car was coming. I walked back toward Brendan on the side of the street, not looking at him, not looking at the car.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Neither of us spoke for a minute. There was a salty, snotty taste in my mouth. I started walking down the street; my steps scraped against the asphalt and grit. Brendan walked with me, but his steps were quieter under his black robe. We passed houses with darkened windows and jack o’ lanterns. I thought of the other kids who might come through and smash the pumpkins in the middle of the street or on driveways. It always pissed me off to see the remains of someone’s carving flat and mushy where cars would run it over in the morning.

“You know I wouldn’t go behind your back like that.” Brendan had taken off his mask. His hair was messy. “Who do you think I am? We’re friends.” I looked at him for a second, as if I’d been waiting for confirmation of the fact for years. I can’t remember a time before that when either of us said we were friends. It had always just sort of worked out that way.

“She’s kind of out of my league, anyway.”

“No. dude, she’s like… not in my league either, and look what happened.”

“I guess I knew what she would say if I ever said anything. God, I was scared for so long.” I’d said it a minute ago, but this time I meant it: “Thanks.”

Brendan pulled out his phone, which was buzzing. He looked at the screen: a text.

“Do you want to go back and watch the movie?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Amina.”

“Let me think: awkward situation at Katie’s house or walking home to go to bed. Honestly, I can’t make up my mind.”

Brendan chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not sure I want to deal with any more drama tonight.” He looked at the jogging vest he was still wearing. “I guess I can take this back tomorrow. Let’s go to your place.”

The temperature hadn’t dropped for a while, but I was tired of the cold that was there. Going home to go to sleep in a warm bed seemed better than any tropical vacation or making out with Jessica Alba (or especially Katie). Brendan called his dad to let him know he’d be home in about a half hour. I pulled my phone out of

the corduroy jacket of my costume, it read 10:31. We took off with quick steps, our hands in pockets or in armpits.

“It’s almost All Saints’ Day,” I announced for no particular reason.

“What day? Oh yeah, the day after All Hallows’ Eve.” Brendan and I had researched Halloween extensively when we were younger. We knew about Samhain and the pagan harvest festivals before Christianity adopted it and tried to make it boring. “Do you feel like the spirits are closer tonight? Like we could commune with them?”

“It’s kind of funny how they thought that on one night dead peoples’ ghosts could talk better or louder or something.”

“Yeah, so they’re ghosts, but normally they can’t hear as well. Isn’t that weird. I mean, why would ghosts stick around anyway.”

“To help catch their murderer. You know the story.”

“But what about people that die normally, like old age or a car accident?”

I looked at him, in the eyes. He caught me looking and looked down again, smiling in the not-happy way.

“I forget like this sometimes, you know? That she’s gone.”

It was too cold to stop or slow down, so we kept walking. I had started to sniff from the cold, and I didn’t want Brendan to think I was crying again. “You seem like you’re doing OK.”

“I am. Sometimes. Most of the time. I sometimes have to just stop what I’m doing and my brain does this reality check on me. I start crying, and I think of how much my life sucks.”

I nodded without looking at him.

“I guess I put on a pretty good show at school. Acting like nothing’s wrong.”

“If I didn’t know what happened, I wouldn’t know.” That sounded dumb, but it was true. I wouldn’t have thought anything was different.

“But it’s easier too, you know? When I was eleven, it was terrible and totally unexpected. When Mom got better, it was great, but I guess…” He let out a shaky breath. “I guess I sort of thought it wasn’t real. I’d gone through all this knowing my mom was gonna die stuff, and then she didn’t, and things got back to normal, only they didn’t really.”

“I’m sorry, dude.”

“Thanks. I guess it feels real now, not like a dream where dead people come back and you know it’s time to wake up. I guess that’s what it feels like, like I’m waking up from a dream.”

Brendan and I were quiet for a while after that. We were a block from my house and seemed to have run out of things to say. I had to break the silence a little. “So what’s it like with Halloween reminding you about death all the time?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re…You know, I hadn’t even thought of that. It’s weird how for like, a week, death is everywhere.”

“Yeah. People putting fake tombstones in their yards.” I laughed a little. “No one buries people on their own property anymore. That’s ridiculous.”

“People die all the time. I mean people say, 'sorry about your mom,' or 'she's in a better place,' but the only time we really pay attention to death itself is Halloween, and then it’s kind of like a joke.”

We stopped at the curb and looked up at the lit porch light surrounded by dark windows that made up my house.

Brendan had taken off his mask but kept the hood on. I saw light from the porchlight on his nose and mouth, but i couldn't see his eyes well. “I guess it’s like how too many Christians were dying in Rome for all the saints to have their own holidays. You know, All Saints’ day?”

“Yeah, like they just gave up and said, ‘Screw it, you all get your own day.’” I paused, then said the most obvious thing ever: “So many people die.”

“I guess.” Brendan was smiling, and for the first time in a long time, I believed his face.

“Dude, do you just want to crash here?”

“Nah, my dad knows I’m coming home. I hate to leave him alone. I hate thinking of him all alone.”

“Yeah.” I found my key in my pocket.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, man.”

“Later.”

I only looked back once on my way up to my door. Walking away, Brendan took quick steps down the street. I watched him, my friend, walk toward home, toward a life I had to really just be a specator for, cheering on the sidelines at best. Mrs. Tibbets’s jogging vest floated just beyond the edge of light from a street lamp, then disappeared. Like the night was wrapping Brendan up, hugging him into itself to protect him from the cold.