Eye Candy

“Pretty sure we already established that.”

I shake my head at him, trying to make him understand without screaming.

“You. Decorated. It.”

Sam still isn’t getting what I’m trying to say, and right when I open my mouth to spell it out, there’s a loud commotion from across the street.

“SORRY, GUYS! I HAD TO SPILL THE BEANS!” Alex shouts from my parents’ front porch as my dad shoves him out of the way and comes racing down the steps in our direction.

“Oh, shit. I decorated it,” Sam mutters, finally understanding the gravity of the situation.

“I’LL KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Dad screams as he trips over one of his clowns, quickly righting himself to continue charging across the yard toward us.

Sam hastily passes Christy over to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. With one last look at the two of us, he glances over at my dad running full speed across the street and takes off running down the sidewalk.

“IF I DON’T SURVIVE THIS, TELL OUR DAUGHTER I LOVE HER AND I WAS ONCE A BRAVE MAN!” Sam shouts over his shoulder to me.

“DON’T YOU MEAN A STUPID MAN?” I yell back.

“THAT TOO!” Sam replies before he disappears around the corner of the block.

My dad makes it over to me and runs right by without a word, his sights set on my husband and how much bodily harm he can do if he manages to catch him.

“DAD! DON’T YOU DARE KILL MY HUSBAND!” I shout.

He ignores me and continues running, and I shake my head as Alex, Scheva, my mom, and Aunt Bobbie join me on the curb in front of my dream home.

My mom immediately takes Christy from my arms and starts cooing at her, running the palm of her hand gently over her soft, red hair.

“That blur who just ran past was your grandfather, Christy, and he’s insane. Yes, he is. He’s a crazy man!” my mom tells her in a lilting baby voice.

“Good news: I called the pumpkin farm and disguised my voice. They’re delivering four cases of apple butter by tomorrow,” Aunt Bobbie announces.

“And your Aunt Bobbie likes to do kinky things with apple butter,” Scheva informs my daughter, bending down and kissing one of her pudgy little cheeks.

“Can we please hold off on teaching my child what kinky means?” I ask, watching everyone crowd around my mom and stare down at Christy with smiles on their faces.

“How long are we going to give those two idiots before someone goes after them?” Alex asks, staring off into the distance where Sam and my dad disappeared.

Scheva pulls her phone out of the pocket of her jeans and checks the time.

“We’ve got two hours before trick-or-treating starts. Let’s go set up the fire pit in the driveway and the table of food and candy. If they’re not back by the time we’re finished, I’ll go look for them,” she tells us.

We all cross the street to my parents’ house to get things ready, and I pause in the middle of the street, taking a moment to look back at the house Sam bought for me.

Who would have thought that almost three years ago, when I was unemployed, homeless, and alone, that I’d find the man of my dreams, fall in love, and have a baby, and that all of my dreams would come true?

Definitely not me, and yet, here I am. I don’t know how life could get much better than this.

I join my family and friends in my parents’ driveway. Alex has set up tables for us, and we set out all the treat bags, which no longer include illegal narcotics or sex toys; light the candles in all the jack-o’-lanterns spread around the front lawn and the white luminary bags lining the driveway; and start bringing out trays of food and coolers of drinks to share with the rest of the neighborhood.

Sam and my dad make it back to the house just as the first group of trick-or-treaters walks up the driveway, both of them calling a truce until the festivities are over. With Christy in her car seat on top of the table, sleeping through everything, I enjoy a few glasses of apple-pie moonshine with my husband, since I’m not nursing Christy; I decided to formula feed her for the sake of my own sanity. I daydream about all of the Halloweens we’ll get to celebrate with my family, in the house across the street, with our very own trick-or-treaters and table full of goodies.

“Happy Halloween,” I tell Sam with a smile as I wrap my arm around his waist and look up at him.

“Happy Halloween,” he replies, leaning down to kiss the tip of my nose. “Don’t worry, your dad won’t kill me as long as I don’t win the decorating contest. I already spoke with a bunch of the neighbors and told them not to vote for me this year, since technically we haven’t been living in the house. But just be prepared. Next year, it’s war.”

I laugh and shake my head at him, knowing I’ll never be able to believe my luck that I was able to find a man who fits in with this family so perfectly.