14. Jude
Sunday, October 22nd
I look absolutely ridiculous, and Lucienne is as cute as a fucking button.
I was so grateful she skipped the wig, but even with the Vote for Pedro shirt, skinny jeans, and glasses, I look more like Napoleon Dynamite than I ever wanted to. She cackled, tears in her eyes, when I attempted the “Canned Heat” dance in my living room. Hey, I’ve got some moves.
Being attracted to a deer is new. Lucienne painted her face and everything, which means I wasn’t allowed to kiss her as fiercely as I’d like. I’m downvoting that costume, if I’m given the opportunity. We look pretty good, all things considered.
The haunted house in Williston is run by a retired couple, who once a year turn their old Victorian home into a house of horrors. Their huge yard is filled with different vendors, fake spiderwebs have been strung up in the trees, smoke machines in every corner.
There’s a very real and very old graveyard on their property, which they use to their advantage, staging volunteers behind headstones dressed as zombies and witches. The whole town joins in on the fun and because of that, I’m glad I got in the spirit.
On our way here, Lucienne told me that Colette and her boyfriend would be there. Though we didn’t plan a double-date, I told her to formally invite them along.
It’s important to me that Lucienne’s closest friend thinks I’m suitable for her. In fact, it matters a lot to me. I want those who love her to know she’s taken care of, that she’s loved.
We purchase our tickets and wait beside the cotton candy booth outside the entrance, our hands braided together, the clear skies above us dotted with stars. The anticipation is slowly eating away at me. I don’t know if I’m going to survive this haunted house.
“Can I tell you something?” I say.
She wraps her arms around my waist and smiles up at me. “What do you want to tell me?”
I push a loose curl from her face, letting the moonlight sparkle in her cornflower eyes. “I—uh—I’m actually scared of haunted houses.”
“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? They’re supposed to make you pee your pants a little,” she laughs.
“No, I mean—I’m genuinely scared of them. When you hear me scream like a small child, don’t laugh. I’d do almost anything for you, so we’re doing it, but you’re not allowed to let go of my hand. I’m serious.”
“Oh, baby, I wouldn’t let you go.”
“Say it again,” I whisper, holding her against me.
I kiss her nose, but we’re interrupted by Colette wrapping her arms around our shoulders and hugging us tightly. We bump heads with a thud and I hiss at the contact.
“Zade! I found them!” she shouts over her shoulder. “Oh, shoot! Sorry! Hope you aren’t concussed; that’s no way to enter a haunted house. Seems like a huge liability.”
“Great to see you again,” I say, rubbing my forehead.
“You too. It’s always nice to get to know people after hours,” she winks.
Lucienne’s cheeks are bright red. I can see it through the face paint, and I can’t help but laugh to myself, trying to mask it with a cough.
“Oh my God, Colette,” she grumbles.
Zade approaches and I offer a hand, which he takes with a nod, shaking it firmly. “Jude, right? Nice to meet you, man.”
“You too. Lucienne has told me a lot about you both.”
Colette bats her eyelashes, gripping Zade’s arm affectionately. “Hopefully all good things, because that’s all I’ve heard about you, Mr. Carr.”
Maybe she’s just being polite, but I feel a tug in my chest at the thought of Lucienne talking about me. I lower my head to her ear, pulling our joined hands to my lips. “You can tell me if she’s being honest,” I whisper.
Colette laughs and Lucienne bumps me with her hip. “I could never tell a lie. Hey, so we need to go get tickets, right? Where’s the booth?”
Lucienne shakes her head and retrieves the tickets from her pocket. “We got four tickets; you guys are covered.”
“Oh, hey! Thanks!” says Zade.
“Let’s do this thing then! This is supposed to be the scariest one yet! One of the scariest in New England this year, I heard,” squeals Colette, dragging Zade to the entrance.
I take a few deep breaths, hoping I can keep my anxiety at bay. The last thing I want is to have a panic attack in the middle of a haunted house with Lucienne. My feet feel heavy, but we stride toward the entrance and head up the front steps. The doorway is covered in caution tape and a woman dressed as some kind of ghoul greets us.
“Greetings! Please, enter. They’re waiting for you inside,” she hisses.
Lucienne tightens her grip on my hand, a small touch of reassurance that I appreciate, but that doesn’t help in the slightest. Colette and Zade take off in front of us, running down the hallway through a shredded curtain into the next room.
It’s pitch black except for the occasional flickering red light. The walls are covered in holes and decrepit portraits and there’s an audio playing of distant screams and gargling noises.
My heart rate quickens and I feel my grip tightening on Lucienne’s hand. These stupid glasses are already starting to slide down my nose because I’m sweating.
“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Just tell me,” she offers.
I shake my head and pull her along gently through the shredded curtain. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” As we turn the corner, a guy dressed as the grim reaper jumps out from behind a secret door in the wall. Lucienne screams and laughs, but I fall back and hit the wall, cursing under my breath.
God, I fucking hate this. But I don’t want to spoil this for her. She’s already enjoying herself.
“I’ll be seeing you when you meet your end!” says the grim reaper.
“Yeah, yeah, keep the scythe away from me,” I snarl.
Lucienne is practically skipping down the hallway, leading us to some rickety stairs heading to the basement. Of course there’s a basement. Why wouldn’t there be a basement? There always has to be a basement. I’ve seen enough horror movies to know you never go to the fucking basement.
Cobwebs are hanging above our heads; bones are dangling in the doorway too. A woman dressed as a mad scientist stands at the bottom of the steps, beckoning us forward.
“Ah, yes! My next subjects have arrived!” she cackles.
I don’t know how long this whole thing is, but if we’re already being sheep-dogged into the basement, I’m hoping it’s short. Lucienne slides a finger into my belt loop and tugs me down the stairs. Now I’m scared and a little bit turned on.
I hear Colette and Zade screaming and laughing ahead. The hallways are becoming narrower, or maybe that’s just my vision starting to pinhole. There are four doors on each wall, and I fucking know something is about to barge through one of them and scare me shitless. Then, that’s exactly what happens.
To my right, a gory-looking zombie bursts through the door and it all happens so fast. My fight or flight kicks in and my right fist comes swinging, making contact with the zombie’s left cheek, knocking them to the ground.
Oh, fuck.
Lucienne pivots on her feet and looks at the zombie on the ground gripping their face, her eyes wide.
“Oh no, Jude!” she shouts, clasping her hands to her mouth.
Suddenly, there are ghosts, werewolves, and mummies all around me, tucking my arms behind my back. There are screams and someone is saying something about me being an asshole. Lucienne is trying to explain what happened.
This is my actual fucking nightmare.
I’m trying to keep my footing, but I trip and a fist meets my eye in the midst of the struggle. There’s a shock of pain and everything goes black.
There are muffled voices around me, as if I’m trying to listen to a conversation underwater. My vision is blurry and I wince, reaching for my left eye. There’s white canvas above me in the medical tent. Well, I survived at least.
“He lives!” exclaims Zade.
My head is pounding and the left side of my face is tender and likely swollen. At least those glasses were knocked off my face. I go to sit up, but a firm hand on my shoulder keeps me down and Lucienne comes into view, a worried smile tugging at her mouth.
“Well, if you hit a zombie, the army of the undead may fight back.” Her sarcasm is a welcomed distraction because my adrenaline is still sky high. “I’m so sorry. We should have turned back.”
I tuck a loose curl behind her ear. Her face paint is smudged, running down her cheeks, and it looks like she’s been crying. I punched someone in the face and made her cry. I am on fire tonight.
“No, beautiful, no. It’s fine. I—uh—shouldn’t be punching people.”
A nurse, an actual nurse not an undead nurse, shines a small light in my eyes. “No signs of a concussion, but that was a hell of a punch. Did you deserve it?” he asks.
“Sure did. How’s the other guy?”
“Already back to haunting. They’re fine, but you’re not allowed back in there.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
Lucienne presses a light kiss to my temple. It stings a little bit, but the warmth of her lips eases the ache. “You’ve set a precedent for double dates, Jude. This was full of excitement.” Colette has Lucienne’s arm looped with hers, a sympathetic grin on her face.
Zade offers a hand and pulls me up to a sitting position. The world spins but balances itself out as I lift myself off the gurney. My head feels like it’s about twice as heavy, a deep throb aching behind my temple. Whoever clocked me got in a good hit. I’m actually impressed by the damage they seemingly caused.
The nurse hands me a small pill bottle. “That’s going to hurt if it doesn’t already. Take one every four to six hours as needed.”
“I’ll get you home; you can stay at my place. It’s closer.” Maybe it’s the almost concussion, but I think Lucienne just invited me to spend the night.
“Yeah? Are you sure? I’ll be fine—”
The nurse takes the pills from me and hands them to Lucienne. “Actually, you should have someone around if you’re going to take those pills for the next twenty-four hours. The emergency doctor said they might make you a little loopy, so I’d listen to your girlfriend.”
Girlfriend.
Colette squeezes Lucienne’s hand and kisses her cheek before she stands beside Zade. “Take good care of him, Lucy. We’re going to head out for drinks downtown anyway. I’ll text you later to check in, okay?”
“Nice to meet you again, man. Sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.” Zade nods. He and Colette walk off through groups of people socializing near the back of the haunted house and disappear into the night.
Lucienne’s eyes are hazy and puffy. I hate to see her upset like this over me. I thread my fingers into her hair and pull her forehead to my lips, giving her small kisses where the face paint has been wiped away. “Take me home, beautiful,” I whisper.
She gives me a weak smile and grasps my hand tightly. Whether I’m walking straight or not is subjective, but Lucienne keeps me steady. I give her my keys and we head back to her place. The streetlights seem especially bright tonight, causing me to wince as we pass each one.
“I’m kind of worried you do have a concussion. Does the light hurt?” She looks over at me, her eyes darting between the road and the passenger seat.
“Just my left eye, where all the damage is. My head feels fine, I promise.” I take her hand from the steering wheel and hold it in my lap, making small circles on the back of it with my thumb. “But I think I will take one of those pills sooner rather than later. Doctor’s orders and all.”
I find a water bottle under my seat and toss a pill back, hoping for some relief soon. This is bound to be worse tomorrow and, even if it isn’t, taking the day off sounds like a really good idea.
I text Greg to let him know I’ll be taking PTO, but I also shoot Daemon a quick text since I haven’t talked to him since Friday night.
Jude:I got punched in the face by some monster in a haunted house.
Daemon:What the fuck kind of haunted house did you go to?
Jude:I swung first, it was a fair fight.
Daemon:That’s why you never do haunted houses, brother.
Jude:Lucienne was so excited to go and I’d do anything for her at this point.
Daemon: To your own detriment. LOL. Heal up, buttercup!
“Think I’m going to take tomorrow off and rest up. Gives me time to make up a cool story for this shiner.”
I pull down the visor and inspect my face in the tiny mirror. It’s red alright, and I popped a blood vessel or two. Jesus Christ, you’d think I was in a full-blown brawl.
“I’ll take tomorrow off too. We’re ahead of schedule anyway,” suggests Lucienne.
“Because I want to be selfish, I won’t tell you not to.”
We park my car near the curb outside of her house and she helps me up the steps. The medication is starting to take effect, making my legs feel like jello and my head is swimming, incoherent thoughts swirling around, making me dizzy.
I feel good. I feel relaxed. I’m not disliking this at all. I’m floating up the steps and through Lucienne’s front door, all the way to her couch, where I collapse. I sink into the comfy cushions and pull her decorative throw pillows to my chest.
“They weren’t kidding about those pills,” she laughs. These pillows smell like her, toasted vanilla and cinnamon, fall leaves and pine in a dark park in October. I want to climb inside these pillows and be surrounded by her.
She’s walking around her apartment. When I open my eyes, she’s changed into boy shorts, an oversized t-shirt, and navy blue knee-high socks.
She crouches beside me and places a hand on my cheek. Warm and soft. I turn my head and plant a small kiss on her palm.
God, she’s gorgeous. She’s so breathtaking, I feel like I can’t get enough air in my lungs.
“You’re so beautiful, Lucienne. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real,” I stammer.
“You’re sweet, Jude. Hey, you should—”
“No, Lucienne, look at me. You’re so—you’re sho beaurtiful.” My speech is slurring, and I want to tell her everything. I want her to know I’d take a million punches to the face if it means I get to love her, cherish her. That I get to call her mine, that I get to feel her in my hands, under my skin.
“I getta to be with you—you chose me. I dunno why, but you did, and I’m falling fer you sho hard.”
I know what I said, but in my altered state of mind, I don’t care. I feel lighter than I ever have, letting her in on my secret. I don’t hear if she responds.
My eyelids are too heavy, and I fall asleep dreaming of her.