Better Late Than Never

I pull my phone out of my pocket as I turn the ignition in my car. The screen lights up the interior and I see three voice mails from Cassie. I dial her number as I throw the car into drive.

“Mason, where the hell are you?” the anger in her voice amplified over the speakers when she answers on the second ring. “Abigail is losing it, she won’t even get her costume on because she doesn’t want to go without you.”

“I know, I’m leaving base now. Just tell Abigail to get her costume on I’ll be there shortly.” I speed out of the parking lot hoping I don’t run into a cop.

“I thought you were going to try to get off early today so you wouldn’t have to rush like this?” the disappointment in her voice punctuated by the wipers working frantically against the windshield.

“I tried, but with the storm rolling in we had to pitch in and help secure the ship to the pier,” I hope desperately this will mollify her and end the conversation. 

“Mason, you’re telling me with all of the junior kids you have in your shop you couldn’t have sent them in your place and get here like you promised?” exasperation pushing through the anger and frustration in her voice.

“I tried, I just couldn’t get away. I’ll be there in thirty minutes as long as the tunnel doesn’t flood beforehand.”

“Just hurry ok, you’ve missed enough this year,” the speakers go silent as she hangs up.

I manage to make it off-base without seeing flashing lights behind me and take this as a good sign. I should have known better than to promise I would make it; Chief has never been one to put our families over the ship.

“Shipmate, we all have families we want to get home to but mission has to come first,” his words haunt me as I turn onto the interstate.

I’m going faster than I know is advisable in these conditions but looking at the clock on my dashboard I know I severely undershot my arrival time and decide to chance a bit more speed. I push down further into the accelerator thanking my lucky stars that I’m one of the few fools trying to brave this storm. I can barely see through the windshield but have the whole four lanes of traffic to work with.

The sign for the tunnel comes into blurry view and I can just make out the word OPEN when I begin to slow down and turn off to make my exit. My headlights shine off the rear bumper of a stalled car at the base of the tunnel and I try to hit the brakes. It’s no use, the road is too slick and my car has been going too fast, I just try to brace myself for the crash. An instant before I make contact with the car in front of me, I realize, I never put on my seatbelt.

***

The sun steadily sets behind the oak tree in front of the house as a breeze gently ruffles its leaves. The yard is littered with toys and the driveway is covered in various chalk drawing of bats, skeletons, and pumpkins that must be Abigail’s work. Cassie has definitely made a half-hearted attempt to decorate this year. Two large spiders are perched in their customary positions on top of the hedges that border the steps up to the porch, every window downstairs is covered with vinyl stickers, and the front door is adorned with caution tape and the traditional crashing witch on broomstick. Walking towards the front door I take stock of the fact that she hasn’t hung the pumpkin lights over the porch or set out the jack-o-lanterns that light up the walk to our front door. These were the jobs I usually took care of because she hates using the ladder and can’t stand the feel of pumpkin pulp on her hands. Though I’m not surprised to see these decorations missing, I can’t help feel guilty that she had to do this alone. I stop at the front door unsure of what I will find inside, but time is ticking and I only have today.

Instinctively I reach out to open the door and watch as my hand passes through the doorknob. I may have been allowed to come back but that doesn’t mean I miraculously have a body again. Cursing myself for being stupid enough to forget I walk through the door and make my way around the house. If the outside is sparse on decoration the inside feels deserted. The only signs of the holiday are a small plastic jack-o-lantern on the dining room table, a drawing of what I assume is a mummy hanging from the fridge, and two nearly overflowing bowls of candy on the counter.

Making my way through to the living room I stop at the fireplace to look at the pictures on the mantle. In the center sits a picture of Abigail’s first day of second grade. Her hair is a bit shorter than I remember it being but the same smile I’ve always known lights up her face, though with a few noticeable gaps where her front baby teeth have fallen out. Out of the corner of my eye I catch something moving across the carpet and turn to find an infant crawling across the floor in an electric blue Cookie Monster costume. It takes me a minute to realize that this must be Oliver, the son I never got to meet. As if to confirm my assumption I turn back to the mantle and find his little round face littering most of the pictures surrounding the one of Abigail I was just examining.

“Abigail are your ready yet? They’re going to be here any minute,” Cassie yells up the stairs as she rushes out of the bedroom to stop Oliver from crawling headfirst into a cabinet in his attempt to escape his mother.

“I’m coming,” Abigail’s voice carries down from her room.

At first glance Cassie looks exactly like she did the last morning I saw her, but as I draw nearer to her I can’t help but notice the bags under her eyes that have formed from having to care for two small children on her own. She bends down and picks Oliver off the ground and finishes zipping up his costume. An erratic knock draws my attention to the front door just as it flies open and Janice lets herself in. Janice and Cassie have been friends since they were in diapers and she treats our house like an extension of her own.

“You guys ready to go or what?” Janice says as she closes the door behind her. “Where’s Abby?”

“Almost,” Cassie lets out an exasperated sigh. “I just finished getting Ollie in his costume, but Abigail hasn’t made an appearance since I helped her with her dress.”

“I’ve got this love,” Janice says with a sly smile as she walks over to the foot of the stairs and yells so loud, I’m sure the entire neighborhood can hear her. “If there are any princesses in this house who want to go trick-or-treating, they need to get their royal tushies downstairs because the candy express is leaving in 5…4…3…”

“Wait for Meeeee!” Comes a frantic voice from above our heads a split second before a blur of lavender and pink streaks past us.

“Whoa there missy,” Janice exclaims as Abigail skids to a stop in the middle of the living room. “Running like that in a dress isn’t very lady like now is it?” 

“Rapunzel isn’t you’re average princess through. She can sing, and dance, and she even fights the bad guys,” the words fly out of Abigail’s mouth as fast as her out of breath lungs will carry them.

Janice laughs as her god daughter pantomimes hitting a villain with an imaginary frying pan, “You’re right my mistake. Are you ready to go, everyone is outside waiting for us.”

Abigail nods at Janice and adjusts her long blonde wig as she runs off to get her plastic jack-o-lantern from the dining room table. Janice leads the way out of the house and Abigail follows without looking at her mother. Hanging upside down from the lowest branch of the tree out front I see Denise, Janice’s seven-year-old daughter. Born only a few months apart Denise and Abigail have been friends from the moment they entered this world. Abigail runs over to examine Denise’s vampire costume and twirls to show off her own. Under the tree Janice’s husband Bryce stands watch over their daughter and a small wagon that holds their young son Grayson in a Big Bird Costume.

“Are you sure you’re ok taking all of these monsters just to two of you?” he asks his wife.

“We’ll manage. Who knows maybe we can trade in Ms. Dracula over there for a cute princess,” Janice replies with a wink.

“Ha, ha,” Bryce replies sarcastically. “Alright call the house if you need anything, my phone’s been acting up all day.”

“I will,” with a departing kiss Bryce walks back to their house next door and Janice turns to the older girls. “Alright let’s get a move on, we only have a short period of time before these two,” she says pointing at the boys in the wagon, “need to get to bed.”

Denise dismounts from the tree with the grace of a gymnast and skips towards the gate, Abigail at her side ready for an adventure. We moved into this neighborhood when we got married for two reasons. First, the house next door to Janice was for sale, and secondly the neighbors always went all out for Halloween. Even the elderly couples whose kids had long ago stopped coming to visit made the effort to decorate their houses and provide treats to the neighborhood kids.

Under threat of trick-or-treating ending in an instant if they stray too far ahead the girls keep a short lead ahead of their mothers. Excitement coursing through them as they giggle secrets to each other and pointing out the various decoration put up in by the neighbors. With the girls distracted and out of earshot Janice turns to Cassie and begins a hushed conversation.

“How did today go, did you guys go spread Mason’s ashes like you planned?”

“No,” Cassie replies sounding defeated. “Abigail broke down in tears when I suggested it.”

“What happened?” Janice asks cautiously.

Cassie shakes her head and points ahead of them. The girls are stopped in front of a gate strung with repurposed Christmas lights and fake cobwebs. Bouncing on the balls of their feet the girls wait for their mothers to catch up so they can get their first piece of trick-or-treating candy. Their excited voices carrying back to us as we catch up to them.

“I hope they have full size candy bars not the puny ones that come in the big Costco bags,” Abigail declared.

“No chance of that, that’s the Robinson house,” Denise replies matter-of-factly. “They always give out the small stuff.”

With their mother’s following close behind the girls make their way up the Robinson’s driveway where old Mrs. Robinson sits in a makeshift Red Riding Hood costume.

“Trick-or-treat!” the girls chorus as they race up to the top step of the porch.

Mrs. Robinson studies the girls’ costumes and with a kind smile drops a piece of candy into each of their buckets. Once the girls have raced off ahead of them and Mrs. Robinson is out of ear shot Janice and Cassie regain their conversation.

“As I was saying, I tried to bring it up to Abigail this morning but she lost it. She’s been shut up in her room all day and has only come out to put on her costume,” Cassie cast Janice a defeated glance. “She accused me of wanting to forget him.”

“Well it’s only been a year,” Janice tries to reason with her. “I’m sure to her it feels like he was just here.”

“I know,” Cassie pauses to consider her words. “Is it bad that a part of me wanted to do it so she could go on with her life again? I mean, she treats that urn like it is Mason.”

“I take it she still does the daily recap for the urn?” Janice asks offhandedly.

“Yeah, she was even trying to bring him with us tonight,” Cassie says as she hugs herself for comfort.

Janice takes a breath and replies through a suppressed smile, “Love, I’m not one to taunt…”

“Yes you are,” Cassie says as she rolls her eyes. “You always have been.”

“Fair point,” the smile spreading further across Janice’s face, “but you do realize you just referred to the urn as a ‘him’ correct?”

“God, see what I mean it’s so persistent even I get caught up in it,” Cassie gives a feeble laugh in response.

They fall silent again as we catch up to the girls who are huddled around a bucket of candy. A hand painted sign advising the trick-or-treaters to only take two pieces each. The girls follow the directions on the sign and sprint off ahead of us.

“Well, it doesn’t sound like either of you is ready to let go of those ashes yet,” Janice says as she bends down to check on Grayson and Oliver, “maybe you just have to makes peace with it for the time being and be grateful she is still attached and loves her daddy.”

“I know, I just miss him too,” Cassie says as tears well in her eyes. “I’m the reason he drove like a maniac to make it to that dance.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that love,” Janice says calmly as she puts a hand on Cassie’s shoulder.

“No, it is my fault,” Cassie shrugs off Janice’s hand. “The last thing I told him was you’ve missed enough this year. If I hadn’t been so angry at him maybe he would have been more careful. He might have been late but he would have at least made it.”

“Sweetie, that man lived to make you and Abigail happy,” she reaches back out and put her hand on Cassie’s shoulder again. “If there was even the slightest chance he could make on time he was going to speed, you know that. It was not your fault.”

Cassie and Janice fall silent, unable or unwilling to continue their conversation. Over the next forty-five minutes we trail behind the girls as they collecting candy from the residents that wait at the top of their driveways in lawn chairs and blowup furniture. Only occasionally do they have to wait on their mothers to make their way to a resident that is confined to their porch. Abigail too caught up in the magic of the night to notice the tears in her mother’s eyes.

We finally make it back to Janice’s driveway just as the boys are starting to get restless. Janice and Cassie stop to talk as Denise and Abigail give each other a fleeting hug, while taking bets on whose candy pile will be bigger. I follow Abigail as she sprints towards our front door with a fully weighed down candy bucket bouncing against her side. Once inside she dumps out her candy on the dining room table and begins to count each piece. The door opens and Cassie walks in carrying Oliver with his head resting on her shoulder, his eyelids struggling to stay open. When she emerges from our room she finds our daughter sorting her candy into categories.

“How did you do this year sweetie,” Cassie asks in a calm measured voice.

“142 pieces,” Abigail replies curtly without looking at her mother.

“Are you still mad about this morning?” Cassie replies trying to keep her voice steady.

“You mean when you tried to throw dad away?” Abigail spits out as she crosses her arms in front of her.

“I wasn’t trying to throw him away,” Cassie says in a soft voice that trails off.

Abigail stays rooted to her seat and turns her face towards me, tears starting to build behind her closed eye lids.

“You want to know a secret?” Cassie says in a quiet shaky voice that breaks the silence.

“What,” Abigail spits out as a tear rolls down her right cheek.

“I’m glad you told me not to,” Cassie reaches gets up and wraps her arms around Abigail.

This admission makes Abigail look up her mother as she wipes her face.

“But..but you’re the one that wanted to do it,” Abigail says through small tearstained hiccups.

“I was wrong. I thought I was ready, but I’m so grateful you stopped me,” She reaches out and gives Abigail a kiss on the forehead.

They stay intertwined in each other’s arms letting tears fall freely between them. After a short while Abigail gently breaks apart from Cassie.

“Can you come up to my room with me? These is something I need to do,” Abigail says as she hops off her chair.

Cassie seems at a loss for words and can only muster a faint nod at Abigail, who walks out of the room with her mother in her wake. Abigail is standing in front of her closed closet when I follow Cassie into the room. She doesn’t say anything before she turns and opens the closet doors wide. Inside, sitting on a princess throw pillow on top of her small wooden desk chair, is a golden urn. As if drawn to the spot by a magnet I walk forward to read the small inscription on the front.

In Loving Memory of Mason T. Gibson August 18^th, 1990 – October 31^st, 2019.

“Happy Halloween Daddy, I know these were your favorites,” she says as she places a small Snickers bar in front of my urn.