9. This Halloween Is Mine #2
The Halloween festival begins the following afternoon. Main Street closes at four, and by six, children are everywhere. There are superheroes, princesses, and ghosts. A toddler dressed as a baked potato waddles past, and I grab William’s sleeve.
“Look.”
He follows my gaze. “That’s excellent.”
“Winner.”
“Absolutely.”
I’m dressed as a witch with a black dress, striped tights, and a pointed hat. William is a park ranger because apparently he owned eighty percent of the costume already.
We don’t match, and I like that too.
Amy is dressed as a fortune teller and has spent half the evening predicting romantic encounters for strangers.
“It’s fraud,” I tell one woman.
Amy gasps. “My gift is real.”
“You told Mr. Callahan he was pregnant.”
“The spirits communicate symbolically.”
I’m still laughing when I see Julia. She’s near the coffee booth wearing black leggings, boots, cat ears, and a fitted black sweater. Her costume is tasteful this year, with no medical regulation concerns.
Her hair is shorter. She looks pretty. She also looks uncomfortable.
Carrie hands her a cup and offers a polite smile. Kara gives Julia a brief nod when they pass.
Nobody is cruel, but Julia isn’t the center of anything. Last year, she stood beside my husband, glowing in the attention of an entire room. This year, people are civil and careful.
When she catches my eye, I expect her to look away, but she doesn’t. She gives me a small nod, and I return it.
That’s all. I don’t forgive her, but I don’t need to humiliate her either.
She already learned that being the exciting other woman is significantly less glamorous once everyone knows whose marriage supplied the excitement.
Justin arrives around seven. He’s still involved with the volunteer association, although nobody hands him a microphone anymore.
Tonight, he’s helping supervise a safety display near one of the trucks. He looks healthy, more like himself than he did last winter, and I’m glad.
I don’t want him back, but I don’t need him punished forever. I simply need his life to remain separate from mine.
He approaches while William is helping a vendor move a table. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
Justin looks at my costume. “Witch.”
“Very original,” I say.
He smiles. “Remember when you dressed as a bee?”
I do. Justin wore a beekeeper suit. We matched.
“I knocked over three drinks with the wings.”
“Four.”
“You exaggerate.”
“One landed on my mother.”
I laugh, and so does he. The memory doesn’t break me, and that feels like progress.
“How is your mother doing?” I ask.
“She’s good. You’re welcome to visit her, you know.”
“Maybe I’ll do that.”
His gaze moves toward William, then back to me. “You look happy.”
“I am.”
He nods. “I heard you’re getting paid to help organize things now.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“Thank you.”
He shifts. “I still can’t believe how much stuff you used to do.”
The old version of me might soften that sentence for him. Tell him I chose to help, and tell him it wasn’t that much. Make his realization easier.
I don’t anymore.
Justin looks around at the festival. “I really didn’t know how much.”
I study him, then shake my head. “You knew.”
His eyes return to mine.
“You just liked that I did it.” There’s no anger in my voice now.
Justin absorbs the words. A year ago, he would have argued or made excuses. Today, he nods.
“Yeah,” he says.
William walks toward us, and Justin notices.
“I should get back,” he says.
“Okay.”
He takes two steps, then turns. “I am sorry, Brooke.”
“I know.”
He leaves.
William stops beside me. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
He glances after Justin, then looks at me again. He doesn’t ask any more questions or act possessive. I slip my hand into his, and his fingers close around mine.
“Come on,” he says.
“Where?”
“Amy says they’re announcing costumes.”
“I’m not winning.”
“You might,” he says.
“Not against the baked potato.”
“Good point.”
We walk toward the stage. Music is playing, children are racing past us, and someone hands me hot cider.
Amy waves from the crowd.
Above Main Street, orange lights glow against the dark October sky.
One year ago, I walked into a Halloween party and discovered my husband had built a secret life out of the hours I gave him.
I spent those hours solving things. Organizing things. Waiting. Covering. Making our shared life easy enough that Justin mistook my effort for something that simply happened.
Tonight, nobody is waiting for me to finish their paperwork. Nobody expects me to remember a birthday they forgot. Nobody is using my free labor to make themselves available for somebody else.
William squeezes my hand, and I look up.
“What?”
“You’re smiling,” he says.
“I know.”
“What are you thinking?”
I look at Amy, at the lights, at the festival I was paid to help organize, and at the man beside me who knows exactly how to take care of his own life and still chooses to share parts of it with me.
Then I smile wider. “That I’m having fun.”
William’s expression warms, and we keep walking.
Last Halloween, Justin thought my time belonged to him.
This Halloween, every hour belongs to me.