Chapter 6 #3
“You’re the only one in your own way here.” Then he stands up and crosses the room to the bathroom, leaving me with my thoughts. He stops at the doorway with his hand on the frame and looks back at me, “Also.”
I look up.
“The girls are going as angels to the Halloween party on Saturday. Melly’s going as a good angel. With Lucy and Penelope.” His eyes widen. “Lucy showed me the outfit. Fuck, dude. You better prepare yourself.”
My jaw is tight enough to ache.
He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.
I peel my socks off and take the t-shirt off, slowly, careful of the shoulder. I lie down on top of the comforter in my boxers and stare at the ceiling. I need to find myself a mask for Saturday so that no one can see my face.
Friday’s game runs a lot smoother. I play clean.
I don’t pick a fight with anyone. I don’t chase a hit I don’t have.
I read the rush. I make the pass. I pick up an assist in the second off a clean exit, and Stanley buries it from the slot, and on the bench after, he leans into my good shoulder and says attaboy, baby Blue.
We lose 3-2.
In the room after, Benson catches my eye across the stalls. He nods. I nod back.
The flight home’s quiet. Stanley sleeps with his mouth open like a man who has been drugged. Percy reads a paperback. Rowan ices his quad. Benson doesn’t talk to me for the entire flight.
I’m in my room by midnight, wondering what kind of hell tomorrow is going to be. Benson already mentioned in passing that we’re dressing up the house for Halloween.
Saturday morning, the kitchen is loud at nine.
I come downstairs in a hoodie and sweats, and the kitchen is already full.
Lucy is at the island with a stack of orange and black streamers and tape.
Gianna is at the counter in leggings, a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other.
Percy is at the stove with two pitchers, a saucepan, and a bag of cranberries open on the counter.
“Golding,” Rowan calls out. “You look like a man who got hit by a truck.”
“Played one.”
Gianna grins at me and slides a coffee mug to me. I take it.
“Pers,” I call out after taking a sip. It’s hot as hell. “What are you making? It smells like fucking Christmas in here.”
“Mango-free punch. Two batches. One spiked, one not. I labeled them.”
He gestures with the wooden spoon at two index cards leaning against the pitchers. One says Punch (Fun). The other says Punch (Boring).
Lucy, without looking up from her streamers, says, “Thank you, Percy.”
“You’re welcome.”
Stanley is in the living room staring at a pile of string lights.
“Stan,” I say as I walk over.
“Don’t talk to me.”
I look down at what he’s looking at. “You good?”
“I’m at war.”
“With?”
“The lights, Blue. With the lights.”
“It’s a mess.”
“I’m aware.”
I leave him to it.
Benson comes down the stairs behind me with his own coffee. He claps my back on the way past.
“Morning. You’re on decorations with me.”
And I thought I was off the hook.
We do the house. Cobwebs in the corners.
Pumpkin lights across the kitchen archway.
A black tablecloth on the dining room table.
Gianna is the project manager. She barks orders from the counter.
She makes me redo the pumpkin lights twice because they’re uneven.
The first time, I redo them without arguing.
The second time, Benson speaks up from the dining room without looking at her.
“Gianna. They’re fine.”
“They’re crooked.”
“Gianna.”
“Benson.”
They stare at each other across the kitchen. Lucy is at the island silently watching, biting down on a smile.
I redo the lights.
Gianna says in a sweet, sarcastic tone, “Thank you, Blue.”
Benson rolls his eyes at me. I shrug at him. He rolls his eyes again.
Lucy puts on a playlist around eleven. The kitchen smells like Percy’s cranberries and the cinnamon Rowan has in the oven for something he’s making. Gianna sings along to a song I don’t know. Percy stirs his punch.
I stand in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room with my coffee in my hand, and I look at the room.
This is my family.
I didn’t have one before this house. Not like this.
Around noon, the house is done.
The five of us — me, Benson, Stanley, Rowan, Percy — stand in the kitchen doorway and look at it.
There is almost something black or orange in every direction of the house.
There’s a sign that reads, all tricks, no treats.
The girls carved pumpkins and have them on display.
Rowan’s vegetable tray on the dining room table.
Percy’s two pitchers are chilling in the fridge.
Stanley’s string lights, against all his protests, are working.
Benson is beside me with his arms crossed with a small, satisfied look. He elbows me. “Get ready for tonight, Blue.”
I look down at the pumpkin. “I need to buy a mask.”
He looks over at Stanley. “Stan said he needed to run out, too.”
“Ermington,” I call out. “You and me at Spirit Halloween in five.”
He nods. “Yeah, boy. Let’s do it. Wanna match?”
I chuckle. “Hell yeah, let’s go.”