Page 72 of The Crush
Not long after the pumpkins are lit and the four of us move our gathering to the front porch, the first trick-or-treaters start to arrive.
Ghosts and ghouls, pirates and princesses, superheroes and ninjas. Almost all the costumes are handcrafted with varying degrees of skill, and every single child is excited to show off.
Daniel is so good with them that it’s hardnotto let my imagination run, too, as I watch him greet a new trio with enthusiasm, crouching down to get on their level, full attention focused on them as they explain their outfits and ask him about his. He gave up trying to explain the movie reference a while ago, and instead has started saying he’s dressed as an outlaw.
“My dad says you were a cop,” proclaims a boy of around six who is dressed as the red Power Ranger, lingering to ask Daniel questions even after his older siblings are already halfway back down the drive. “Are you a cop or a bad guy?”
“He’s a good guy,” I answer for Daniel when he doesn’t immediately respond, resting my hand on his shoulder where I stand behind him. “Just like you.”
The little boy seems to accept this along with an extra piece of candy to get him on his way, which of course brings the others back as soon as they realize they’ve missed out.
For a long time, there’s a steady stream of them, even after the sun sets and the bikes start to arrive with headlamps switched on.
“They shouldn’t be out running around at night,” Daniel mutters as he watches another group disappear into the darkness. “They could get hurt.”
“They’ll be okay,” I tell him, my arms tight around his waist. “We always were.”
Eventually, the trick-or-treaters start to dwindle, their bags already full from other houses but no less insistent on picking a new piece with extreme care.
“Happy Halloween!” I greet the fifth witch of the night, her little face positively beaming as I lean forward from my seat on the stairs and offer her whatever candy she’d like. “I love your hat.”
“Thank you,” she says back, curious eyes scanning the offering carefully as a teenage boy waits in the driveway for her. “My mamá made it. And my dress. And my wand.” She holds it up proudly.
“She did a very good job,” I say back. “Do you know any spells?”
“Mmm.” The little girl considers the question, selecting a small box of Nerds in the process. “Yeah, but they don’t work unless my hermano helps though.”
“Hm.” I glance back at Gabe where he’s talking with Daniel and Tadeo. “I know what you mean.” I offer her the bucket again. “Better take him some candy, too.”
She smiles, grabbing a second piece and sprinting off back to her own bike. She deposits the candy in her brother’s hand, and hewaves before leaning down to say something in her ear. She runs halfway back before yelling, “Trick-or-treat, and thank you!”
I wave, laughing and standing before Daniel’s arms wrap around me from behind. His lips press against my cheek as he rocks me back and forth and murmurs something I can’t quite make out.
“What was that?” I murmur, checking to see that Tadeo and Gabe are still distracted with their own conversation. “Couldn’t quite hear you.”
“You’re killing me,” he says, only slightly louder but pairing it with a firm press of his body against my back. “When do we get to turn the light off?”
“We have to leave it on until atleasteight.”
He looks at his watch. “Okay, you have less than ten minutes.”
“Then what?” I ask, playing it cool even as my stomach flips at his tone and the way his fingertips are digging into my hips.
He lets out a huff of frustration. “ThenI’m dragging you to our bedroom.”
My heart skips, and I wonder if he even realizes what he’s said. “Ourbedroom?”
“Yes, our bedroom.Ourbed.” He bends and presses his mouth to the side of my neck, taking a deep inhale. “Forget ten minutes. You have five.”
My pulse starts to race, need pulling low in my abdomen. “We still won’t be alone even after we turn the light off. I think they’d notice if we disappear.”
He tugs me back against him tighter, whispering, “Do Ifeellike I give a fuck?”
A new set of headlamps comes into view, the scrape of one of the front porch chairs alerting me that either Tadeo or Gabe isstanding to take their turn. The sound of the boots and the rhythm tells me it’s Tadeo, and Daniel sighs as he notices, too, moving to rest his chin on top of my head but not letting go.
These kids are older, almost at the age where they’ll be deemed too old to trick-or-treat, but they seem to be making the most of it. Scary costumes, loud voices, each of them grabbing more than the traditional single piece and then running as if Tadeo would actually stop them.
“I better take off, too,” Gabe says after all of us watch them race off. He gets up and gives both Daniel and Tadeo a firm handshake before he clasps my arm and gives it a tight squeeze. “I’ll be back tomorrow with Mamá. Don’t miss me too much in the meantime.”
