Jack O'Lantern

Achoo! 

Another sneeze wracks it’s way though my mask. I groan and turn back to the sanitation station, whipping off my mask, wiping my nose then scrubbing my hands ferociously, again, for the third time today. 

Lawrence pops his head in, his eyebrows creased with concern. “You sure you’re good to work today? You’ve been in here a bit too much. I got you if you’re sick.” 

I shake my head as I replace my mask. “I’m fine. You’ve seen my tests. It’s not corona, it’s just all the freakin’ pumpkin spice everyone’s been ordering today.” I step out, Law following me back into the kitchens. “What is it with that spice makes everyone go nuts when it’s fall?” 

Law laughs. “It’s the season, let people enjoy things. You, however, cannot be in here anymore. I’ll see if who’s on the till so you can switch with them, and work with Perrie.” 

“Not Perrie,” I wrinkle my nose. Law raises an eyebrow. “Yes, Jack, with Perrie. I’m not risking your sensitive nose sneezing into the pies.” 

Aurelie comes through the doors then, balancing empty trays in her arms, flour streaked in her bright pink hair. Lawrence sighs in relief. “Hey, Aura. You want an early night?” 

She raises a pierced eyebrow as she drops the trays in the sink. “Early night? We’d better be doing something good. I had plans.” She walks over to him, pulling down her mask, and then his mask, and they kiss.  

I turn away, rolling my eyes. “That’s disgusting. And completely unethical.” 

He breaks away from Aurelie long enough to say, “It’s my shop. My rules. Out you go. If sorting ingredients is too delicate, then helping Perrie with orders shouldn’t be.” I hold back a sigh. 

“Careful out there, she’s on a roll today,” Aurelie adds, from Law’s side. “Going on about memories and magic of the season. She’s a like a fairy, it's adorable.” 

“It’s annoying,” I mumble as I tie my apron and put on some gloves. “How is one person that preppy about an entire season?” 

“Don’t be hard on her, hey,” Aurelie chides me, flicking flour into my face. “People are like that on Christmas too.” 

“He’s just a killjoy. No fun at all. Can’t even get him to wear the leaf badges.” Lawrence mocks me. I sigh again. Everyone just loves to accost me on this. “Because they’re dumb. People already know the café's name. And they know it’s fall, in case no one else sees all the other adverts that every single store is doing.” 

“Dang.” Aurelie steps back, mockingly. “I was about to defend you, but nope. What did autumn ever do to you? Bye! Out you go!” 

I shrug as she pushes me through the door into the till, to the main restaurant. The atmosphere in here is warm and hectic even as we enter the last hour – the sun is slowly setting, early with the season, lengthening the shadows but providing enough natural light for minimal lights to be on inside. We’ve got the evening rush of people leaving work, or preparing for night shifts to serve, and they line up (distanced of course), or sit outside in the dusk. 

I’m not a complete Grinch, as Lawrence and Aurelie would have you believe. The scene in front of me would warm anyone’s heart, especially when there hasn’t been much to feel happy about lately. I’m just not a big fan of the season. Why pumpkin spice flavoured everything? I think, as I sprinkle some on to some cookies, and pop them into the oven for heating. Allergies aside, it’s not even that nice. 

“Have a wonderful day! Enjoy the weather! It is the best season, right? Bye! Come again!” 

Oh, there’s another reason. Perrie, my co-worker, self-proclaimed queen of fall, and has never failed to remind every single one of us for the past three years we’ve worked here together.  

She turns to me now, bright-eyed, the autumn-leaf patterns on her mask matching her deep-red locs and the brown of her knitted beanie, just perfect for the season. I wasn’t kidding when I said she was the embodiment of autumn. If it came in a 5-foot 3 bundle of peppy, seventeen-year-old student. 

“Oh, hi, Jack. Where’s Aurelie?” The pitch in her voice hurts slightly.  

“Lawrence switched me here, and let her off early. So I’m stuck with you.” 

“Yay! This gives me a chance to finally make you wear a badge!” 

“Yay,” I deadpan. 

“Come on, Jack. Get into the spirit! It’s the best season. Oh, and I need four cinnamon, six pumpkin spice cookies with icing. Last orders.” She makes for the coffee machine, while I take the cookies out and start mixing the icing while she stares me down, leaning against the counter. 

“It’s not the best. Winter is.” 

“Uh, no!” I can practically see the pout under the mask. “It’s cold, and everything is dead. Do you enjoy freezing in every classroom?” 

“Being wrapped up warm is better than the half-warm, half-freezing thing we have now. There’s no … order in autumn. Everything's scattered.” 

“Oh, we’re going to proper argue about this now.” Ding! She fills the Styrofoam cups, adding toppings while I do my best to follow the outline on the cookie I’m tracing with too-drippy icing. “Well, Jack Frost, that’s where the beauty lies. It’s versatile. You can wear hoodies or shorts and dresses and socks and no one cares.” 

There’s a scratch on the chalkboard next to the till, where we put up the day’s specials. Lawrence’s little brother is seated on the edge of the table, chalk piece in hand, a tally mark drawn on the formerly blank space. I narrow my eyes. 

“Maybe. But how about this: you get a fresh start in winter. Everything’s peaceful.” 

“Peace?!” Her eyebrows dip so ferociously it’s nearly comical. “Dude.” She sets the cups down on the till, adding napkins. “Christmas-time is the worst time of year if you’re single, or have no family. There aren’t a bunch of movies around this for me to be wrong.” 

“You have a point. But.” I finish the fourth cookie. “They don’t call it cuffing season for nothing. If you will, there’s even more pressure to not be single this time of year.” 

She narrows her eyes, but says nothing, calling the order number and beckoning the young couple and their kid forward. “Here you are. For you, sir, madam, and for you? Your cookies will be ready in a moment. I have to apologize for my colleague, he’s slow today. Really not in the spirit.” 

I keep the profanity to myself, and eye-smile apologetically while I hurriedly ice the last two and push the plate across. They thankfully take it with humour, shaking their head at Perrie’s antics. Or charm, if you will. Perrie turns back to me as I start wiping the counter.  

“Fine, okay! But cuffing season is much more efficient in keeping couples together than the Christmas. Case in point.” She jerks a shoulder across the café, where two young dudes, not that much older than us, are talking excitedly over coffees, which look suspiciously like pumpkin spice. “They have come here on a date twice now, and it was because of me, and the magic of a swapped coffee order. You can’t tell me that’s not sweet.” 

There’s another scratch of chalk. I turn to glare at Harry, who has an innocuous look on his face. “Are you keeping score?”  

He shrugs. “She’s winning so far.” Perrie laughs. I scowl. 

“See? I’m telling you. This is folklore season. Why else would Miss Taylor’s best work be an autumn themed?”  

“You mean, Reputation, her best work. Which was released in winter, if you recall.” Another chalk scratch. It's on my side this time. Perrie scowls. “I thought you were on my side!” 

Harry shrugs. “End Game is a bop.” 

“Why are we talking Taylor Swift and why do I hear nothing about 1989, obviously her best record? It has the Grammy, please.” That’s Aurelie, seemingly free from kissing Lawrence to check up on us.  

“I’m not even gonna argue about that.” Perrie’s eyes widen. “Wait! Wasn’t it me who got you and Law together, round this time of year, two years ago?”  

Aurelie is amused. “Yes, when you locked us in the coffee room together.” 

Perrie turns to me, arms crossed. Her eyes say, see? Magic. I stare back. Nope. We both look at Harry, who contemplates briefly, before drawing the tally mark in my column. Aurelie rolls her eyes. Perrie groans. I cheer and flick the rag her direction, which she dodges.  

“That means nothing,” Perrie grumbles, back to me as she starts on the trays.  

“It clearly means something, Perrie. It’s decided. Winter forever.” 

“Shut up, Frosty. It’s a tie. Killjoy.” 

“Okay!” Aurelie looks like she’s trying not to laugh. “Clearly, you need a tie breaker.” She reaches into her back pocket, swinging a set of keys up. “We’re short of apples for tomorrow’s pies. You both can go pick some at Sal’s Orchard. They’re closed, but tell him you came from me. Law and I will lock up.” 

“Really?” I groan. Perrie, on the other hand, looks delighted. “Yes! I love the orchard! I’m driving!” She takes the keys and heads off before I can protest. 

Aurelie crosses her arms. “Yes, really. Stop being so hard on her, and yourself. Live a little. Why don’t you like fall? Bad memories?” I shrug. Her eyes soften. She ruffles my hair before pushing me, like she did moments before, towards the door. “Open up. Go make some new ones.” 

** 

I wanted to be a good sport. I did. I tried. But Perrie’s singing is awful and pitchy, and it’s making my ears bleed as she butchers Taylor Swift’s ‘seven’ as we walk, baskets in hand, to the shack at the edge of the gates barring the orchard’s entrance. 

“Please. I’m asking, nicely, can you stop?” I mumble. She ignores me, singing louder instead, only stopping once we reach the window. She knocks. We wait a moment before a man with a thick bear and a dark mask, pulled down, pulls up the blind, scowling. “We’re closed. The sign says five, no exceptions. Damn couples this season,” he mumbles under his breath.  

I flush under my mask. Perrie remains unfazed. “No, we’re here on business from the Leafy Nook. Aurelie sent us here?” 

His countenance shifts, and he groans. “Of course.” He steps out of the booth and unlocks the gate, gesturing to the grove of trees to the right, near the fencing. “She owes me one. Don’t dawdle. And if you see any little rascals in my fields, send ‘em to me!” 

He slams back into the shed. Perrie and I exchange glances. “Wow. Found someone who’s even more of a fall grinch than you.”  

I scoff, fumbling for a comeback, but she’s already walking ahead, peering at a sign hung nearby. “Hey, look! There’s a scavenger hunt thing! We have to find the piece of wood that says... pumpkin, and we get a prize.” 

“I think it’s for the people who actually pay to-” 

She rolls her eyes. “It'll be fun.” 

“You think the grinch will actually give you the prize if you find it?” 

She shrugs, surprising me when she steps forward and shoves her beanie onto my head. “Who knows? Live a little. I’m going over there. You take over there?” She takes off before I have a chance to reply. 

** 

We’ve been picking for a few minutes now, and I’m confused as to why people come here on dates. It's exhausting after a while, climbing ladders and craning into the tree boughs to get the best-looking ones. I’m struggling currently to pluck a particular specimen: green and red, colours swirling almost perfectly in the middle. It’s proved stubborn, but I’m stubborner.  

Just as I make a final tug and I feel it give, there’s a shriek that nearly knocks me off the ladder. I regain my footing, climb down and run toward the noise, which came from the trees across me. “Perrie? Are you okay?!” 

“Fine!” It’s slightly strained, and it’s coming from... above? I walk deeper along the orchard’s edge, looking up until I spot her, sitting rather calmly, high up in the boughs of the biggest tree here, feeling up and around the bark. I frown. “What are you doing?”  

“Looking for the plaque!” 

I scowl. “I thought you were hurt. You need to get down, what if Sal...” 

“Shh!” She cuts me off with a gasp. “Dude, you have to come up here.” Her voice is muffled by her mask, and she’s on her knees, peering at something beyond the fence. The branch bends under the increased weight of her foot. Anxiety shoots up my spine.  

“You should come down. I don’t think it’s safe.” She finally looks at me, eyes shining. “It’s totally safe. Look, come up here, then I’ll go down. Promise. Swear on the season.” 

I hesitate for a second, raising a hand to my head, feeling her beanie. I remember Aurelie. Live a little. “You have to come down as soon as-” 

“Sure, sure.”  

There isn’t a ladder in sight, so I have to pull myself up ungracefully with the bark grooves and the flexible branches, finally heaving onto a sturdy branch next to Perrie. I sit uncomfortably, huffing, and pull my mask down. “What?”  

She points over the fence, where it seems to be an extension of the orchard, except it’s less tidy – the fruit trees are few and unkempt, with the colourful leaves from the street side trees having blown in and scattered everywhere, gathering at the base of this tree. In the centre of the field, there’s a majestic brown horse, gently feeding, tied with a loose lead rope. And two little kids, a boy and a girl, maybe seven, creeping into the field, approaching the horse.  

“Shouldn’t we-” 

“No!” It’s a whisper. “They aren’t going to hurt it. Look.” The girl takes a tentative step forward and cautiously strokes the horse’s side. It turns its head, but isn’t bothered. The boy, less nervous, holds out an apple to its snout. We watch as he eats it, and the look of wonder on both of their faces.  

Perrie sighs. She’s pulled her mask down, too, and her smile is soft. “This is what I mean when I say I love fall. Sure, summer and winter have their own magic, but fall? You couldn’t do this in winter. When things are ripe and ready for harvest. Why would you want to ruin this?” 

I turn to face her. “I get what you mean, but whatever mistakes you make in the summer haunt you into autumn, but winter’s the cleaning before you can have a fresh start in the spring.” 

“Maybe,” she concedes, her gaze still on the kids, who’ve moved on from feeding the horse and are now scouring the fallen apples from the edges of the fence. “Still. I think you make the most memories in fall. Like those kids, they just made that memory. Why would we take that away?” She turns to me. “And even if there’s pain in the past, you can always make new ones.” 

“True.” Open up.  

Perrie fully faces me, beaming. “Have I done it? Are you no longer Jack Frost, but Jack o’ lantern?” 

I laugh. “Nope. I might reconsider trying pumpkin spice, even if it makes me sneeze.” 

Her smile gets wider. Sitting here in the trees, the red of her hair and the green of her shirt match the atmosphere so perfectly she could be a fairy. I reciprocate. Live a little. 

There’s a sudden snap under me. I start, losing my balance, so I let go and jump down into the leaves. The kids shriek, feet pattering as they run. “Let’s go back, Perrie. It’s getting dark, and I don’t think Sal...” I straighten and look up, expecting her to be down too. But she’s perched awkwardly on her branch, looking stricken. “Uhh...” 

I raise an eyebrow. She squeezes her face in embarrassment. “The branch’s weak. It’s going to break, unless...” 

I blow out a breath, and move to stand under her. “Fine. Let go, I’ll try not to drop you.” 

“Ha-ha.” 

“Serious, I won’t. At least, not on purpose. I’ll count-” 

She drops without waiting. In my unpreparedness, I cave under her weight and we flop heavily into the leaves, softening our fall. She sits up, laughing, while I shake the leaves from my hoodie. “If it was winter, we wouldn’t have such a soft landing,” she teases, flicking leaves into my face. I move to flick some back at her, when I spot something beneath the leaves. “Nor would we have found this.” 

* 

Sal eyes us when we return, two baskets of apples between us, the wooden plaque with ‘pumpkin’ emblazoned in it sitting atop them. “I believe you owe us a prize?” Perrie announces, dropping her basket and slamming the plank on the table between us and the glass.  

“How did you manage to find that? I put it specifically so no one would.” He narrows his eyes. “And it’s for paying customers.” 

“Ahh, Sal,” Perrie sings, turning on her charm. “Don’t think Aurelie will appreciate that.” 

He scowls, but reaches into the drawers, dragging out two tickets and a t-shirt. “Don’t come on Thursdays, so I won’t have to deal with you.” He shuts the blind. “Be off with you.” 

I offer the shirt to Perrie. An apple, pumpkin and a (PSL?) latte are drawn on it, surrounded by the words ‘head in the clouds, feet on the ground’. “You want it?”  

She smiles her fairy smile before pulling her mask up and heading for the car. “You keep it. I think you learned that today, Jack o’ lantern.”