Page 34 of Just This Once

“Thanks for inviting us to tag along with you,” Andi says, wearing all black with a cat-ear headband and whiskers drawn on her cheeks. She’s young and cute, a little sprite with a Texas twang and really great eyebrows. Meanwhile, I’m an old curmudgeon who can’t be bothered to be cute. It’s tough enough to find pants that fit. Searching for a costume? No, thank you.

“Yeah. Of course,” I reply, knowing my brother is on shift tonight. It’s Andi’s first Halloween in West Chester, and while she is by no means incapable, my brother specifically told me to invite her and the kids tonight since he couldn’t be with themto trick-or-treat. You can take the man out of the SEALs, but you can’t take the SEALs out of the man, and “the bigger the group, the better.”

I nudge Frankie to stay inside to place the Take One bowl out and then shout upstairs. “Mads! Time to go!”

She races down the steps, passing me by with a quick hello to Andi. She, Grace, and Logan all head out to the sidewalk with their bags, while I call to Jake that we’re leaving and lock up. My neighborhood is close to downtown and always has more trick-or-treat activity than Griffin’s cookie-cutter development that isn’t very walkable.

Once we get going, with the kids leading the way, I turn to Andi. “So, how are you?”

“Good, busy. Logan and Grace are keeping me on my toes with their schedule. I’ve been trying to write more music, but this year feels a lot different with school. It’s a big change for them. And for me too. Settling in has been…challenging.”

I nod, understanding. “It’s hard to find time for yourself when you’re a mom. But you’re doing great. The kids are happy, and that’s what matters most.” A bright smile lights up her face like she might fly away, and I don’t understand why. “What?”

“You called me a mom.”

I lift my shoulder. “That’s what you are.”

She bites into her lip, trying and failing to dim her clear and utter happiness as she shakes her head. “Yeah. I am. I guess hearing someone else say it… It feels validating.” She glances at me, eyes glassy. “Thank you.” She sniffs and waves her hand over her face a few times and takes a big breath as if we’re starting the conversation over from the beginning. “How are you? How’s the B&B?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’d say you were fine even if you weren’t,” shesays, and I hear those words in my head in Dante’s voice. Sounds exactly like something he would say. “How are you, really?”

I zip up the vest I have on over my hoodie and stick my hands in the pockets. I suppose this time is as good as any to become better acquainted with the woman I know my brother plans on marrying eventually. “How am I? Tired. A constant state of exhaustion.”

“Physically or emotionally?”

I huff, chagrined that she would be able to discern the difference. Then again, I’d guess all women feel perpetually exhausted. Holding up half the sky with less than half the recognition, even though the weight on our shoulders feels a fuck-ton heavier than what I notice men carrying most days.

“My bandwidth is pretty narrow lately,” I admit eventually, and she nods, waiting for me to continue. So, I do. “My brothers always tell me to take a nap. As if that’ll solve anything.”

“I’d venture to guess your brothers are in the top one percent of men, and they still don’t get it. Pretty as they are to look at.”

That pulls a surprised laugh out of me. I like Andi more and more every time I talk to her, and I don’t hesitate to answer her when she asks about the renovations at The Nest. She doesn’t act as if she has any knowledge of what happened between Dante and me, and that is one positive of Griffin’s personality being that of a brick wall. He knows how to keep his mouth shut.

We continue chatting as we follow the kids down the sidewalk. They run from house to house, filling their bags with candy as we trail behind at a leisurely pace. It’s a cool, clear night, and I’m enjoying the fresh air and the company. I can imagine Andi at our monthly wine and whine nights at Tabby Cat with Marianne and Clara. They already love her, so wemight as well invite her. But I am not the includer one of the group. That’s Clara’s role and responsibility.

After we loop back to my house, the kids eagerly dump their haul onto the living room floor. More pounds of candy than any of them can reasonably eat, but they dive in, giving it a good go.

Marianne and Clara show up right as Jake meanders downstairs, and he greets his pseudo aunts with hugs before pilfering a few Snickers bars from Maddie to bring back to his room. When they spot Andi, Clara claps excitedly and takes Frankie’s front paws to dance with him, singing a made-up song about candy and girl time.

“All right, hand over the goods,” Marianne says to the kids, holding out her hands. “We’ve got to test it to make sure it’s safe.”

This is our tradition. Every year, Marianne and Clara “sample” a few pieces of candy to check for tampering. It started when the kids were really little, but now, it’s mostly an excuse for them to eat a quarter of the pot.

When the four of us have each stolen some candy, bargaining with the kids for our favorites, we move into the kitchen. Clara starts up her bullshit immediately while unwrapping a blue Jolly Rancher. “Soooo, a little birdie told me you’re considering letting Dante rent the apartment.”

I heave a sigh. Since I haven’t disclosed that information to anyone yet, the little birdie could only be Dante himself.

I will strangle him with his own measuring tape.

“You should do it!” Clara says enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically. “I mean, you need the extra income, and Dante’s a great guy.”

I scowl at her. “You know this is all your fault.”

Her eyes go wide in innocence, hand to her heart. “Myfault?”

“You pushed us together that night, and you’re pushing us together now.”

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