The Dead Husband by Carter Wilson (best summer reads of all time .txt) 📗

a single parent of an eleven-year-old who has no friends and a passion for Halloween, you can’t escape trick-or-treating responsibilities.

In Milwaukee, we always decorated the inside of our apartment and then trick-or-treated in a nearby neighborhood. Max always loved running up to each house and inspecting their decorations. He was fascinated by any kind of special effects, even if it was just a cheap Walmart fog machine. But his favorite thing was a person on their front porch dressed up as a prop who’d suddenly animate and terrify the approaching kids.

My father doesn’t decorate for Halloween. He never has. Nor does he ever hand out candy. When I was a little girl, I asked him why he didn’t. I was maybe five years old, but his answer stays with me.

Fuck ’em.

I think it was the first time in my life I’d ever heard the word fuck. I had to ask Cora what it meant. Somehow, she knew.

Tonight, we’re again visiting another neighborhood for our Halloween festivities. Cora and Willow are joining, and she suggested Arlington Estates, which she said has become the Halloween go-to area in Bury. I didn’t object. Arlington Estates is where Alec lives, and the thought of him makes me happy. Not giddy, just happy. A simple, pleasant, smell-of-fresh-baked-bread kind of happiness.

Max is dressed as a classic vampire, and he chews on his plastic fangs as we wait at the agreed-upon street corner in Arlington Estates. Cora finally shows up with Willow in tow. Max and I get out of our car, and the night instantly chills me. The air is so distinct on Halloween night here in Bury. Isn’t that strange? My childhood comes rushing back. Going house to house with Cora, screaming, laughing, screaming more.

The realization of how we all change injects me with bitter nostalgia, making me wish I couldn’t recall my past.

Cora rushes up, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders. “We would have been here earlier if Willow hadn’t been so dramatic about wanting to go out with friends.”

“Jesus, Mom, I’m thirteen,” Willow says, who, if I had to guess, I’d say is dressed as a zombie slut. Dark makeup around the eyes, mussed hair, and a thin, bloodstained T-shirt that has strategic tears in it, allowing me to see her bra and belly button. “We had plans.”

“Your plans changed,” Cora snaps.

Willow rolls her eyes and belts out a huff. Then she looks at Max. “Vampire, huh? Super creative.”

Max doesn’t respond but just stares at and beyond her, and I realize he’s drifted off again. I wonder what the cause is this time. When he’s had these moments before, I’ve asked him afterward what he was thinking about, and he always mumbles nothing. It’s almost as if he loses time for a few seconds, his brain fast-forwarding past a bad memory.

“What’s up with you, freak?” Willow says.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” I say to my niece. Then I touch Max’s arm. “Hey, buddy, you okay?”

When he doesn’t reply, I give his arm a little squeeze, just short of a pinch. This stirs him from his reverie and he looks up to me. “Her blood looks real.”

“You know it’s not, though, right? It’s all make believe.”

He blinks, and in his eyes, I don’t see reassurance. I see fear. “I know,” he says.

This is not usual for him. Max loves Halloween, gory costumes and all. But somehow the sight of Willow’s weak attempt at horror has him on edge.

Cora claps her gloved hands together and beams a plastic smile. “Well, then, this should be fun. Shall we start?”

I kneel in front of my son. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

This is the first Halloween without his father, a reality that has to be swirling inside him.

“Okay, let’s go get some candy,” I say.

“You don’t need to come,” he says, and before I can even argue, he runs off to the nearest house, his plastic pumpkin candy pail jostling in his right hand. One moment, he seems scared; the next, he runs off into the night without me. I try so hard to understand him, and just as I think I’m getting close, something happens to make us feel more disconnected than ever.

Willow starts to follow Max when Cora says, “Did you even bring anything to put candy in?”

Willow turns to her mom, cups her hands together for a second, then continues after Max.

Cora watches her walk up to the house and says to me, “If she’s this bad at thirteen, what will the next five years be like?”

“Hell,” I say, meaning it. Kind of hoping it.

It’s just after seven and trick-or-treating is in full force in Arlington Estates. Squeals, screams, and laughter come from all directions and distances, and roving packs of costumed kids litter the streets and sidewalks. About half the packs have adults with them, many of whom have wineglasses.

“Did you bring anything to drink?” Cora asks.

“No, I didn’t even think about it.”

“Great.”

The air is still but cold on my cheeks. I tug on my wool hat, bringing it further down over my ears.

Max comes racing back from the house and nearly runs into me. His fangs are bared, which is good because that means he’s smiling.

“What’ya get?” I ask.

With a heavy lisp from his fake teeth, he mumbles, “Full-size Snickers.”

“Wow,” I say. “Good stuff.” He seems to be past whatever fear he was having a few minutes ago.

Willow comes up holding her own candy bar, and I think I see a trace of a smile on her face. She’s trying hard not to admit having fun, but there’s still a child inside her.

“Aren’t you cold, Willow?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Not really.”

“She refused to wear a coat, and I got sick of arguing,” Cora says.

Max races away while we follow on the sidewalk. Willow stays with us on the sidewalk for a couple of houses before finally joining him.

As soon as Cora and I are alone, she starts in on me.

“So people are talking about you,” she says.

“What?”

“You know what,” she says. “Apparently some cop