Chapter 18
Abby
Seventeen Weeks
“Happy Halloween, witches!” Ellie cries in a sing-song tone.
Last year, after Ellie and Griffin got married, we camped out in their front yard and handed out candy to the trick-or-treaters while enjoying treats of our own (a.k.a., pumpkin beer). We made a pact that we’d do this every year from then on.
There’s one less chair this year.
Aaron took Halloween costumes very seriously–we always went above and beyond, and for the past few years, by some miracle, he’s convinced Jack to join us.
Everything from rock-paper-scissors, to the Holy Trinity, to Cosmo-Wanda-Timmy Turner, our costumes have continuously gotten more and more elaborate (and high budget).
Had. Our costumes had gotten more elaborate.
This year, I’ve opted for a simple pumpkin t-shirt, with a tiny pumpkin over my increasingly visible bump. I didn’t know where to begin with a costume, and it didn’t feel right without Aaron. I don’t know if it will ever feel right again.
Will anything?
Ellie sits on her bedroom floor, finishing her makeup in front of her LED lit mirror. This year, Ellie and Griffin are dressed as Kermit and Miss Piggy, a decision that had David literally rolling on the floor with laughter when he saw Griffin’s green-painted face.
“Knock, knock.”
I sit up from where I’ve been lounging comfortably on the bed to find Jack standing in the doorway, holding a large plastic bag at his side.
“Hi, Jacky boy,” Ellie says brightly, before frowning at his appearance. “Where the hell is your costume?”
He holds up the bag wordlessly, then shoots a furtive glance my way. He looks…nervous?
“Um, well,” he stutters. “I know Aaron is usually in charge of costumes, but I just figured…well, I didn’t know if you’d want to…nevermind, of course you don’t, stupid of me.”
“Jack Robbit,” I say slowly, a playful smile spreading across my face. “Did you get us matching costumes?”
His cheeks tinge pink, and it’s one of the most wonderful things I’ve ever seen. Aaron usually had to drag Jack kicking and screaming to get into costume. The fact that he got costumes for the both of us, and willingly, means…well, it means everything.
“It was a dumb idea,” he mumbles, hiding the bag behind his back and dropping his gaze to the floor. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“No backing out of this now,” I yell gleefully. “What did you get for us?” He steps back, but I reach around him, snatching the bag before he has a chance to stop me. I quickly remove the contents from the plastic, laying them out on the bed in front of us.
“No fucking way,” I gasp. “Are these what I think they are?”
He nods, his entire face going red now as Ellie jumps to her feet and rushes over to see the pile of yellow and denim spread across the bed.
“Are those,” she asks, her mouth turning upwards in a wicked grin, “Minion costumes?”
She dissolves into giggles, running out of the room calling for David and Griffin to come upstairs. I stare at the costumes, jaw dropped in shock, then whip around to face Jack.
“You’re going to let me be a minion this year?”
“I mean, you’ve asked every year since Aaron roped me into group costumes,” he says quietly. “I figured now was as good a time as any to finally let you have it.”
This man. This kind, thoughtful, unbelievable man.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper, taking the fabric and holding it tightly to my chest. “Absolutely perfect.”
“I know I’m technically supposed to be Gru in this scenario,” he says. “But I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to be a Minion alone. I know it’s not the same, but–”
I launch myself at him, cutting him off and hugging him tightly. It’s not the same–I would give anything to have Aaron here with us, laughing loudly at the sight of Jack in overalls. But he’s not. Nothing changes that. But this is a damn good alternative.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice thick. “I didn’t even know how much I was missing dressing up until those costumes were in front of me. This is one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me.” I look up at him, and his face is almost radiant, split in a dazzling, unrestrained smile.
I stand there, wrapped in his arms and overwhelmed by a new kind of feeling, until thunderous footsteps ascend the stairs from the basement and we jump apart. I don’t even know why we did it–we’ve hugged a million times before, and in front of our friends.
This one was different.
I don’t have time to unpack that thought before Griffin and David burst into the room, eyes darting from Jack to the costumes, then back to Jack.
They let out a matching howl of laughter, tag-teaming an effort to yank his heather gray long sleeve over his head, revealing a torso that’s been perfectly sculpted by the required stamina for fire fighting.
I look away quickly, my cheeks flushing as I rush into the hallway bathroom to put on my costume. The last thing I need is more content for the incessant dreams that are still making a nightly appearance.
God I can’t wait for these hormones to calm down.
I change into the yellow t-shirt, then loosen the straps on the overalls to get them over my bump. I pull the goggles over my eyes, then slide on the black gloves before looking in the mirror and taking in my appearance.
It’s absolutely fucking perfect.
I emerge from the bathroom at the same time as Jack steps out into the hallway, both of us stopping dead in our tracks when we catch sight of each other.
“Good lord,” he mutters, looking me slowly up and down. “Abby Thompson, you’ve got to be the only person in the world who can look that pretty in a minion costume.”
“You’re not too bad yourself,” I say, hoping my teasing tone covers the fact that he just knocked the wind out of me.
“I mean it, pretty girl,” he says, stepping toward me. “You’re glowing.”
I blink rapidly, my heart fluttering in my chest at the nickname he used the night I was angry with him for leaving. I thought he was placating me, making up for the misstep by being exceedingly nice.
Goddamn do I like the way that sounds.
“Sorry,” he says, eyes widening at the realization of what he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay. I told you not to forget that I’m pretty. Glad to see you listened.” I hope I sounded as nonchalant as I was trying to be. Unfortunately I am feeling very chalant right now.
We stand awkwardly for a few seconds before he points wordlessly over his shoulder, and I follow behind him as he heads out the front door and into the Halloween explosion Griffin has concocted in the front yard.
Neon purple and orange ghosts project from the contraption on the ground, dancing across the front of the house.
The trees and bushes are covered in fake cobwebs, giant spiders spread haphazardly throughout.
A comically large cauldron of candy sits in the middle of the grass, five folding chairs spaced evenly in a half-moon around it.
Ellie and Griffin have taken the left two seats, her perfect golden ringlets and pink feather boa a sharp contrast to his homemade felt jacket and green sprayed hair.
“I see that the bulk of the costume budget went to Ellie,” I call as I take the seat next to David, Jack rounding out the circle at the far-right end. “But you look like you’re being very brave about it, Griff.”
“Listen,” he says, scooting his chair close to Ellie’s and placing an arm around her shoulders. “My wife’s job is to be the most gorgeous thing on this side of the Mississippi. My job is to say ‘whatever you want, darlin’.’”
“Good man,” I laugh, and Ellie grabs his chin, tilting her face up to kiss him with a smile on her face. The sight makes my heart sink–not because I’m not happy for them. I’ve never been more grateful that two people ended up together than when they finally sorted their shit out.
It’s knowing that Aaron won’t ever kiss me like that again that makes me feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. It hits me that soon, something will be kicking me in the stomach–another thing that Aaron will miss out on.
Just like that, the joy from the costumes is replaced by agonizing grief.
Somehow sensing the shift, Jack reaches out and coaxes my fist open.
I didn't realize I’d clenched my hands shut during my internal spiral.
I look at him with more of a grimace than anything, and slip my palm against his, not letting go.
If anyone notices, they don’t say anything.
Although I doubt anyone actually noticed, since David’s time to shine has come.
He whips his garish cape over his face with his forearm at approaching trick-or-treaters before revealing the fake blood dripping from the vampire fangs attached to his incisors.
“I vant–”
“Do not tell these children you want to suck their blood,” I hiss.
“–to give you candy!” he declares, wisely heeding my warning.
He does this routine over and over, sometimes to laughs and sometimes to actual screams from some of the younger children. “Sorry!” he yells after a group, the mom shooting daggers at him while the dad reassures the crying boy that he isn’t a real vampire.
Around ten p.m. the last of the teenagers still holding on to the childhood tradition of collecting as much candy as possible clear the street, silence falls over the neighborhood.
But instead of feeling spooky, it feels peaceful, like the moment after finishing a project you’ve worked on painstakingly for weeks.
“Just think,” Ellie says, stifling a yawn. “This time next year we’ll have a tiny ginger angel to dress up.”
“Oh my god,” David says, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Abby.” He looks at me pleadingly, so earnest I have to fight hard to hold back laughter. “You have to let me and fetus do matching costumes. Me and my new best friend are going to look so fucking cool.”
“Not on your life,” I laugh. “Unless you’re okay dressing up as Piglet. Little One is going to be Winnie the Pooh whether they like it or not.”
He scrunches his brows together, considering the offer very seriously.
“Can I be Tigger instead?”
“Sure,” I say before turning to Jack. “Jack can be Piglet.”
“Just because I let you dress me up as a Minion this year doesn’t mean you have free reign for all future Halloweens,” he protests.
“You made a grave mistake, Jack Robbit,” I say, half-jokingly, half-threateningly. “I’ll be insatiable now. It’ll be like having two Little Ones to dress up, I am going to have so much fun.”
“Sweet Jesus,” he mutters, barely audible over the raucous laughter filling the air from the other three.
We tear down the majority of the setup, bringing the chairs, fake candles, and nearly empty cauldron into the house. I think David ate as much as he handed out, and judging by the way he sugar-crashes on the basement couch the moment we’re finished, I’d say my measurements were correct.
“It’s like having a little brother I never asked for,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes even as she gently places a blanket over him. “Let’s hope your baby actually grows up by the time they’re thirty.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, overwhelmed by fondness for our wild-child friend. “I think it’s nice that he still has this much gusto for life. He’s not cynical yet like the rest of us. Let him have his whimsy.”
“Next time, Whimsy can crash on your couch,” she says, bumping my hip with her own.
“Yeah,” Griffin adds. “And he can throw up a grocery store’s worth of candy in your bathroom sink.”
“Eugh,” Jack grunts in disgust. “Did he do that last year?”
“Sure did,” Ellie says flatly. “I’ve bleached it a hundred times since last Halloween and I still can’t bring myself to use it.”
Bidding them goodnight, Jack and I walk arm in arm down their yard and up my own. The moment we’re inside, he rips off his goggles and shimmies out of his overalls. Even though he still has his sweatpants on underneath, my stomach still flips as I try my best not to ogle at him as he undresses.
“Thank God I’m out of those,” he sighs. “You will never see me in another pair of overalls in this lifetime.”
“Is that a challenge?” I joke, yawning deeply.
“Not even a little bit,” he groans. “I mean it, I’ll be Piglet before I’ll get back in those.”
“I’m going to remember you said that,” I mumble, suddenly feeling like I could fall asleep right here, standing up in the hallway.
“Go get out of that awful outfit,” he demands, spinning me around and marching me down the hallway, something that’s becoming a habit of his when he decides it’s time for bed.
“I thought you said I was the prettiest Minion in the world,” I argue, but let him lead me to my room. “Were you just saying that?”
“No,” he says quietly. “I meant it. I think you’d be the prettiest anything.”
I turn around to face him, my breath hitching in my chest. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
I just stare at him, and the odd expression on his face.
Something flashes in his eyes, just for the briefest of moments.
Before I can pinpoint what it is, he gives me a quick hug, wishing me goodnight and disappearing into the makeshift bedroom he’s called home for weeks now.
That’s the third time he’s outright called me pretty.
I get ready for bed in what feels like slow motion, carefully folding up the costume like it’s the most precious thing in the world and placing it on a back shelf in my closet.
My mind replays the moment I realized what he’d done for me.
I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be that thoughtful, to know what I needed when I didn’t know it myself.
Not anyone besides Aaron, anyway.
The awful confusion that sends physical pangs through my body when both Jack and Aaron are occupying my thoughts is stronger tonight than it’s ever been. I feel enormously guilty about how much I like it when he calls me pretty.
I feel even worse that I hope he keeps saying it.