Page 5 of Halloween with a Daddy
“To, um…” I look around.
“I got it!” Amelia brushes past me to grab my costume. “To two absolutely amazing costumes.”
“You haven’t even seen mine.” I reach for my shot as she holds both costumes up.
“You told me it’s awesome.” She unzips the bag and inspects it. “That’s a lot of dress, Bethany. I thought you said it was gothic-sexy or something.”
“I said it was gothic.” I reach for my shot. “Come on, we’re toasting to two awesome costumes.”
“Right!” Amelia rushes back to the counter and puts the two costumes on the stool beside her. “To a night we’ll never forget!”
“And awesome costumes.” I insist.
“Yes, to a night we’ll never forget wearing amazing costumes!” She nods quickly and taps her shot glass against mine.
Blackberry vodka. Not my favorite. I’m not sure what my favorite drink would be, but this definitely isn’t it. I down my shot, sputter and turn to see Amelia throwing her head back like she just found out what joy feels like. She lets out awooand slams her shot glass down on the counter.
I watch, feeling like the world is moving in slow motion, as her elbow bumps the bottle of Blackberry vodka. It teeters in a circle, gives the impression it’s going to come to a gentle rest, then falls off the counter. Amelia spins around in a panic as the bottle hits the stool holding our costumes and tips it over.
“Fuck!” I say, uttering yet another rare curse word.
Amelia says nothing. She just watches in horror as the stool falls, our costumes hit the floor, and the bottle of Blackberry vodka explodes on impact with the tile surface. Our costumes do little to soften the fall, but are immediately covered in glass and saturated with vodka.
“No, no, no!” Amelia finally snaps to reality, kneels down, and picks up the bag holding my costume. “I’m so sorry, Bethany! Oh my god, I…”
My costume isn’t ruined, but broken glass has damaged the fabric around the shoulder, and it’s dripping with vodka. My emotions take a momentary tailspin. I feel shattered. My grandmother worked so hard on my costume and now it’s useless. Amelia looks distraught, so instead of letting anger take hold, I snap into best friend mode to comfort her.
“It’s okay. Seriously, it’s okay.” I walk around the counter and put my hand on her arm as she tears up. “My grandmother can fix it. It’s not a big deal.”
“You have nothing to wear.” She looks at me and I see a few tears roll down her cheeks. “I screwed everything up.”
“We can fix this.” I exhale sharply, inspect my costume a little closer, and then put it aside. “Let’s clean this up, then we’ll figure out what we’re going to wear.”
“Okay.” She swallows hard, wipes away a few tears, and nods.
I grab the roll of paper towels, unroll some for me, and hand the rest of them to her. We carefully kneel on the floor and begin cleaning up the mess of broken glass and blackberry vodka. Somehow it smells worse on the floor than it did in my shot glass. My stomach swirls into nausea, partially because of the vodka and partially due to how sick I feel about my costume. I do my best to stay positive because despite this setback, I’m still going to get to see Grimwillow Manor tonight.
“Alright, I think that’s the best we can do.” Amelia drops the last of the broken glass in the trash can and stuffs her bunny costume in on top of it.
“Let’s look at your costumes.” I motion towards her room.
“Okay.” Amelia nods.
Amelia leads me back to her room. I saw the three costumes she narrowed it down to, and I’m hoping there might be something a little more modest about the ones she vetoed before I got here. Amelia walks to her closet and pulls out another costume. It’s barely more than lingerie with a pair of fairy wings. She places it on the bed next to the other two.
“I don’t think that one is for me.” I shake my head. “What else do you have?”
“Um, that’s it.” She motions to the costumes. “I narrowed it down to four and planned to return the ones I didn’t wear after Halloween.”
“What about your costumes from last year?” I turn towards her. “You went to like three frat parties.”
“I already got rid of those.” She shrugs. “I rarely keep my old costumes.”
I’m tempted to go back to my house and rummage through my closet, but then I would have to explain everything to my grandmother. She’s said nothing to me about drinking, but she doesn’t approve of it, even though my grandfather will occasionally go out on the patio for whiskey and a cigar in the evenings.
I’d rather not have to explain that the dress she worked so hard on got soaked in vodka. I’ll have to clean it before I ask if she can make the needed repairs. It might not be wearable tonight, but it’ll still be great for handing out candy to trick-or-treaters on Halloween night. At least it won’t be a complete waste.
That only leaves me with three options. I look down at the costumes and shake my head in disappointment. Amelia runs her hands across them, a lot more excited about what’s left on the bed than I am.
