Mostly Treats

Ding, dong. 

Ding ding ding, dong. 

Ding ding ding ding, dong.

Tommy huffed to the door.

“There’s no reason to ring more than once, mongrels,” he grumbled to himself. He repeated his utterings when he opened the door.

Fat fists clutching plastic pumpkins, twin dinosaurs looked up at him expectantly.

He plopped an ice cream scoop full of tuna salad in their baskets and slammed the door shut, not waiting to see the rugrats’ shocked expressions.

Rubbing his back, Tommy hobbled back to his folding chair that sat in the foyer. It was centered, facing the front door.

Tommy waited.

Ding dong, the doorbell said again. Tommy stood up and slinked over. Repeating the ritual.

“I don’t know why I do this every year, Sue,” he complained as he shut the door on two gangly princesses and one plump snowman. “I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

“And kids are so entitled these days. They want gluten-free, dairy-free candy. Guess what? It’s still candy! Still going to rot your teeth out. Sheesh.”

“All I’m trying to do is feed the neighbourhood,” he continued. “Give them a proper meal for once. Tuna’s hearty. Good for your heart! All those omega-whatevers…” The doorbell interrupted his monologue.

Ding dong, ding dong. 

“Okay, I admit, tuna was all we had on hand, Sue. It’s not like it’s my favorite. You know that. Haven’t been to the store in a while. You know how these stairs are. It was your fault we landed this top-floor apartment. You batted those eyelashes of yours and got your way, as always. Great view of the city, you had said. Even better view of the Rockies. But now those 27 flights are too much for my knees. And hips. And feet. I don’t get out as much as I used to.”

He waited for her reply and then quickly muttered, “Those sunrises, though. First light bouncing off the mountains. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: much better than the sunsets. The colored light lasts longer. Yes ma’m, I still give you all the credit for those.”

“But come on, tuna salad is better than the crap the folks next door are handing out. It’s salad, for crying out loud! Don’t these mini health nuts like salad?”

He repeated as much to the small, frightened looking zombie and his kid sister, dressed as some sort of fruit. They scurried along the hallway, trying not to meet the old man’s gaze. The peach or pear and zombie brother recovered quickly, though, as Tommy’s neighbor opened the door and showered them with bags of mnms. It was a wonder how easy kids were to please; it was also a wonder how easy they were to disappoint.

“That plum reminded me of Riley,” he murmured. “She hasn’t been here in a while. Says the place is too drab. She used another word… suffocating? The place didn’t support her personal flourishing. You sent her to that damn school, Sue. Now she uses words like ‘flourishing’ and thinks it’s cute to stretch in public. Sticks her butt in the air. Calls it exercise.” He rolled his eyes.

“Riley’s kids are doing alright, though,” he continued. “From what I hear, anyway, when she calls. If she calls.”

Ding dong, ding dong.

“Elliot’s in first grade. Willow just turned four. She’s in soccer now, I guess. Can you believe that? Following in her mom’s footsteps, I suppose. What I wouldn’t give to see Riley on the field again. She was good.”

“Yeah, she was good,” he said again.

There was a lull in the decorative visitors.

“Riley sighs whenever I ask if more kids are on the way. Is that a crazy question to ask? The woman has three different nannies. That’s quite the parade of people for two kids that can tie their own shoelaces. My mother managed seven of us on her own and still had time to cook and sew and read an obscene amount of Hemingway.”

Ding ding ding, dong.

“It’s not a crazy question, Sue.”

He was quiet again and concentrated on squeezing the scoop of smelly salad.

He had to stand at the door for a while. There were a flood of costumes now. Firefighters, dragons, bodies splattered with fairly realistic looking blood.

The more he scooped, the more animated he became with the kids. The grumpy man still complained, but as the night wore on, he started complaining to the kids, instead of about them.  

“Dreadful weather isn’t it? It’s a crime to snow before Thanksgiving, in my book.”

“Your brother shouldn’t push you around, kid. Use that sword of yours to keep him in check tonight, do ya hear?”

This went on for hours. 

Soon it was nearing 9:00, and the trick or treaters became a trickle. Then stopped. 

Tommy stepped back inside his apartment, nearly empty bowl and scoop in hand. He sat back in the folding chair and sighed. 

“That’s all for tonight, Sue.” He gazed up at the picture on the wall, above the door. “Thanks for coming around tonight, love. Making me do this. Know it’s your favorite tradition. Seeing the young ones and all that.” 

A gray haired beauty stared back. Smiling a fixed but warm smile. Arms cradling a tiny thing. Another small one dressed in a sheet, an unseen grin behind the classic ghost costume.

“Have to admit, it’s my favorite now too.”

Tommy sighed. Nodded. Then steeled himself to stand. 

Ding dong. 

Tommy would have jumped if it wouldn’t have pained him so much to do so. He opened the door, ready to begrudgingly offer one final plop of fish, and stopped. 

A tall woman stood in the doorway, flanked by a small lion and even smaller scarecrow. The two children excitedly held out their baskets, unphased by the hour or the shock on Tommy’s face. The woman’s eyes were tired. But she wore a familiar warm smile. 

“Hi dad,” Riley said. “Happy Halloween.” 

Wordlessly, Tommy reached for his daughter.