"What are we going to wear?"
Jeff was sick of hearing it. He could have given less than a shit about throwing on a hot latex mask and prancing around the neighborhood. It wasn't bad enough that he was twenty-five years old being forced to celebrate a kid's holiday, but Halloween would be eight years to the day his high school sweetheart had been killed in a car accident, and it was a night he preferred not to remember. Unfortunately, his new girlfriend, Tracy, was insistent, absolutely adamant that they
would
dress up, they
would
go out, and Jeff had little or no choice in the matter.
That particular afternoon, Tracy had been dragging Jeff to nearly every godforsaken costume shop in the city looking for the perfect ensemble. Fred and Wilma? Ricky and Lucy? Sharon and Ozzy? Jeff's head was throbbing. All he wanted was an escape from Tracy's tireless journey, but he knew it would never happen without a confrontation, and he hated confrontations with Tracy. The statuesque blonde was beautiful, but she could be a viper when she wanted.
They stood at a rack in what could have been the sixth or seventh costume shop that day, Jeff shifting uncomfortably back and forth on his feet, watching Tracy rifle through the costumes.
"Tracy, I don't really give a shit, would you just pick some goddamn thing?" As soon as the question left his mouth, he knew it was a dive off the deep end. He could see the hurt cross her face almost immediately, and he wondered why he could never keep his mouth shut at key moments in his life.
"Jeffrey, I'm sick of this," Tracy said, brushing her long hair impatiently out of her face, "you've been moping around all afternoon, you haven't contributed a damn thing, and you've been ignoring me. I'm asking you to do this one thing and you can't even do it."
"You know how much I hate Halloween," Jeff said firmly, "I always have, but--"
"Oh, boo-hoo, don't start with the sob story again, Jeff, I'm sick of hearing it. Get the fuck over it."
Jeff's head was still throbbing, but now he could feel his face flush red with anger. Tracy could be brutally insensitive when she really tried. In his heart, he knew it wasn't anything malicious, it was just the way she was. But it hurt nonetheless.
"Thanks, sweetheart, for being so kind and understanding about this."
Tracy sighed in frustration and looked at him earnestly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. It's been eight years, Jeff, why can't you let it go?"
"We've talked about this, it's just not that easy."
"Why isn't it that easy?" For a moment, Jeff thought he could see genuine hurt in her eyes. "Do you still love her?"
"Of course I do. I never had any reason not to love her, I'll always love her."
"You have to move on," she said frankly.
"I know. I
have
. I've moved on, why do you think I'm here with you? I just...this is the one night I'd prefer not to remember. It's the one night I don't want to celebrate. It's too hard. You've never done what I've done, it's just too hard."
Tracy's face softened a little. "Jeff, you didn't do anything, it wasn't your fault, it was an accident." He supposed she was right, it hadn't really been his fault, it had been a drunk driver who plowed into his little car. But still, if he had been paying attention, he might have seen the guy coming sooner...
"Look," Tracy said softly, "we don't have to dress up, but please come with me to Charlie's party--" Jeff could feel himself starting to grumble "--I know, I know you want to sit at home and brood, but I think it'll be fun, and I think it'll be good for you to get out. Please do this for me."
She gave him "the eyes," and he knew he was going to give in. With a gaze of her blue eyes, she could get anything. Homecoming queen, prom queen, as a high school girl Tracy had taken everything she wanted, and still as a twenty-two year old college student, there was no denying her a thing. In all honesty, they had very little in common, but she had been too beautiful for Jeff to pass up. He knew she used her looks to get what she wanted, and it never really bothered him.
"Okay," Jeff said with resignation in his voice, "I'll go with you to the party."
Tracy clapped excitedly and threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, thank you, thank you, honey. I promise you'll have fun." She pressed her lips to his, her tongue slipping through his lips, against his own tongue. He never quite lost the tingle he experienced when she was close to him, when she kissed him. She broke the kiss and smiled seductively. "I promise," she whispered, "I'll find a way to pay you back."
"I'm sure you will."
She pulled away from him and glanced at the clock on her ever-present cell phone. "I have to go, baby, I'm getting my nails done at three." She pecked him quickly once more on the cheek and turned to go.
"Tracy?"
She turned back to him, the light from the shop windows striking her hair perfectly so that she absolutely glowed. "Mm-hmm?"
"I'm sorry I was such a pain in the butt about this. I'm trying to get better."
She smiled sweetly, showing the perfect rows of white teeth her parents had paid big bucks for when she was a kid. "It's okay, I forgive you."
And then she was gone.
* * *
Jeff wandered the grounds of his college campus for the rest of the afternoon. The North Carolina air had turned crisp and cool, and he admired the lush reds and oranges of the trees that covered the tiny southern campus. The bittersweet smells of the season filled his nose, bringing with them mixed emotions.
Halloween was in three days, and Jeff was dreading every second of it. The first Halloween after Lilah had died had been the worst imaginable. Jeff, at only eighteen years old, had spent that particular holiday hidden away in a motel room with a bottle of rum and a shotgun, waiting for the moment when he would gather up the courage to use it. The moment wouldn't come, not that night, and not Halloween the following year. The pain, like all pain, had eased away slowly, but it never died completely.