Country Corn

The colorful leaves danced around in the golden sun of autumn. Though I wasn’t outside, I could smell the crisp evening air through the living room windows. I could also smell the piping apple cider stewing in a pot on the stove, awaiting yet another stir from my ladle. It had been a few minutes since the last stir, so I figured it was nearing the time to create another whirlpool in the cider. I mustered the energy to get up from the recliner.

On my way to the kitchen, I stopped in the dining room to admire the perfect date displayed on the calendar. It showed me the beautiful date I longed to see— October 31st.

Halloween was always my favorite day of the year, and even in childhood, I never spent it the way those around me said I was supposed to. This led people to believe I was anti-Halloween. My habits of no costume and no candy was, in their eyes, a clear message that I detested the season.

I don’t blame them for their assumptions. I was always the one kid who wore plain clothes to school on Halloween. I was the one who skipped trick-or-treating, opting to stay home instead. Even at my now college age, I spent the first two years dodging the “epic” parties my friends went to each year to dress in cute costumes and get drunk with strangers. To the outsider, I can absolutely see why I appeared to hate the season. However, the outsiders couldn’t be more wrong.

I didn’t like that version of Halloween, the one where I had to socialize with people I barely knew or didn’t know at all. Whether it be strangers handing out candy or strangers at some random person’s house party, I didn’t care. The interest in these events was simply never there.

Instead, I preferred to snuggle up inside, drink warm cider, and watch a Halloween movie. When I was a kid, it was typically It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown or Halloweentown, whereas in recent years, I went for horror films. This year, I decided to go with a classic, settling in for the night to watch The Silence of the Lambs.

Though I didn’t know much about myself, I did know that people exhausted me. And for as long as I can remember, I have rarely been anything less than content to sit at home and celebrate the holiday season on my own terms. 

As I went to ladle some cider into a mug, my phone began to buzz. It was my friend Lindy, who had been badgering me for days to come to a Halloween party with her and some of our other friends. Parties were fine, but I never really felt I contributed much to them. I spent a majority of the time not knowing what to say, making a stale comment at the wrong time, or wishing I was at home. With the knowledge that she was going to ask me to come out in mind, I hit the “decline” button.

The toasty mug warmed my chilly fingers as I worked my way back into the living room recliner. I took a deep breath and smiled at the warm feeling of fall consuming me wholly. It all felt good. Though, there was a part of me that wished being social was more of my scene. I wanted to want to go the party. But when given the option to navigate my way through a sea of strangers or remain in the comfort of my own home, I chose the latter. 

As I was about to start the movie, there was a knock on my apartment door. I was relieved I hadn’t yet started the movie, or I know the intense paranoia that comes with a scary movie would’ve convinced me a serial killer was on the other side. 

Looking through the peephole, I saw Lindy staring directly back at me.

“Zara!” Her muffled voice screeched through the door. “I know you’re in there. You no longer have a choice in the matter!” She paused when I offered no reply, then decided to continue her shouting. “You’re coming to the party!”

Oh brother. That was absolutely not even a little bit on my agenda. So much for choosing the latter when a feisty, 5’2 blonde stood in my doorway. 

“Zara, I know you’re there, just come on! It will be so—” She was cut off by me opening the door. 

“My sweet Lindy. Though I’m honored you came all this way to try to include me, I promise that neither you nor I are missing out. I’m perfectly happy staying here, and I know you’ll be perfectly happy not having to entertain your very anti-social friend in a very social setting.” 

Lindy rolled her eyes. “One. Just one! Just one Halloween where we go out and make some memories. We can leave the party after a half hour if you end up hating it. Please, let’s just try and have fun!” 

I often forgot how persistent Lindy could be when she sets her mind on something. With a sigh of defeat, I weakly nodded and slipped out the door. 

“Thatta girl!” Lindy exclaimed. She stood on her tippy toes as she reached up to pat me on the head. “I don’t have a costume,” I monotonously said to Lindy. “And I have nothing that remotely resembles one.” 

Lindy seemed entirely unbothered by this statement. “Hey, no worries! I figured as much. My brother said he has an extra costume. We’ll swing by and grab it on the way.” After a brief car ride, we arrived at her brother’s house. It was a bit downtrodden, as most college housing is, but the sun illuminated the structure, making it kind of pretty. The auburn brick flowed seamlessly into the color palette of fall. Her brother sat on the porch sporting a silver crown and a royal blue cape, and holding what I hoped had nothing to do with me.

“Zara!” He called out. “I’m sorry, this is the only thing we have. But, hey, talk about a conversation starter!” 

Lindy and I stared in disbelief at the giant corn costume he held in his hands. It had a face hole, two arm holes, and one large hole for the legs.

“James, I’m not going to, uh, I’m not wearing that.” I did a 180 degree turn on my heels. Before I could distance myself from his porch, Lindy leaped and tackled me to the ground. 

“NOW! NOW!!!” 

James scurried over and began to slip the shuck of corn over my head. I resisted as much as I could, submitting only when I busted out in giggles. “Fine!” I said as a final surrender. “I’ll wear the damn corn.” 

“WOOHOO!” Lindy and James cheered in unison, high-fiving each other for their supposed victory. “You two are dorks,” I said between chuckles.

Lindy and I hopped back in the car, gathering our friends along the way to the party. They were all dressed in adorable costumes, with Thomas as a superhero, Max as a hippie, and Lindy as a cat. They squealed with delight at the sight of me being there, and followed it with laughter at my corny appearance.

My friend Elena was the last stop on our route. She was dressed as a cowgirl, sporting a plaid shirt and dark washed jeans. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a tight, low ponytail. Before she spoke, she removed the cowboy hat from her head, plopping it onto my own. 

“There you go! Now you’re country corn!” The whole car burst into laughter. “What about you, Elena? What’s a cowgirl without her hat?” Thomas asked. She stopped and thought in silence for a moment. “I’ll just tell people I’m a lumberjack!”

*

We rounded the corner and entered onto the street that matched the address we were given. I could hear the music from down the block. The bass was overwhelming, vibrating the car with increasing intensity the closer we grew. I sighed, yearning for the version of me that was sipping on hot cider and watching a spooky movie. I shoved the longing down my throat and filed out of the car with my friends. We approached the house surrounded by an army of college students dressed in various assortments of costumes. 

“Drinks are inside!” The host, presumably, shouted at us over the music. We nodded as to say thank you, and worked our way inside.

The party was already well underway. The boxy house was filled with rooms that displayed a multitude of scenes, each more interesting than the last. Strobe lights, crappy dollar store decorations, drinking games, and swarms of people grabbed my attention as we attempted to find a spot to hunker down in.

Once settled, my friends immediately began to chat it up with strangers, complimenting people on their costumes, and laughing about who knows what. They tried to include me in the conversations, but I resisted their efforts. 

“Thirty minutes,” I mumbled. “You just have to make it thirty minutes.” All I needed was to kill some time.

I gulped and made my way over to a circle of people smoking cigarettes on the back deck. My lungs, previously untouched by smoke, struggled to adjust to the setting. But I would not allow this to serve as a barrier. “I mine as well put myself out there. If it goes horribly, it’s only thirty minutes of my life,” I thought to myself. I took a swig of liquid courage and wiggled into the open spot in the circle.

“What are you supposed to be?” A man dressed as Popeye said to me. He was cute, which made my freckled cheeks burn. I became overwhelmingly aware of the fact that I was in a giant corn suit.

“Oh. I’m uh, country corn.” This caused laughter to erupt throughout the group before of me. 

“Now THAT is a Halloween costume!” One of the voices shouted. They patted me on the back and asked questions about why I chose this costume, was I a passionate corn fan, and so on. Before I knew it, we had slipped into regular party conversation, joking about whatever, talking about our respective lives. The anxiety of the night felt like it began to melt away. For once, I felt like I was actually contributing to a party. I felt like I was actually supposed to be there, and not just my friends’ add-on.

Eventually, the group dispersed, leaving only Popeye and me. We began to have a meaningful one-on-one conversation, exchanging stories about our lives, our interests, and our desires. He had the sweetest smile that tilted a little when he smiled or laughed especially hard at something. His dark eyes demanded to meet my gaze every time it drifted. I was enthralled.

We began to walk around the party, striking up chats with random people, teasing each other with the inside jokes we had already created. Everyone was so personable, and all equally intrigued by my country corn costume. The night was full of cheerfulness and camaraderie. 

Before I knew it, a drunk Elena and a sober Lindy were poking my arm, indicating that they were ready to go. I hadn’t even realized that four hours had gone by, and the party was starting to clear out. I told them that I’d be out to the car in a second, and they both nodded in agreement as they shuffled out the door to meet the rest of our friends in Lindy’s car.

I turned to face Popeye, whose name I came to know as Peter, and told him I’d been summoned to leave.

“Hey, Zara, I had a really fun time with you tonight.” I blushed. 

“You’re an absolute riot, Peter.” I said as I beamed at him. 

He took off my hat and grabbed my hand.

“Do you think it’d be okay if I kissed you?” 

My heart raced. That would be MORE than okay. I energetically nodded my head. He leaned down and placed his lips against mine, sending that very warmth I had felt snuggled up at home through my body. 

“Good night, Peter.” I whispered to him. “Good night, Zara.” He whispered back.

Lindy dropped our drunk friends off one by one as we relished in the memories we made within the last few hours. They all cheered for me when I told them I had kissed a boy, and told me how proud they were that I had stepped outside of my comfort zone. It felt good.

Though the first stop of the night, I was now the last, with Lindy leaving my apartment until the end. She grabbed my hand as I went to exit the car. “Hey, Zar. I’m so proud of you. You were the life of the party tonight. I told you you’d love this version of Halloween too!”

I tried to hold back the smile creeping across my face. 

“I guess you’re right. Same time next year?” She chuckled and scolded me to get some sleep. The second I walked in the door, the exhaustion overtook me, and I obeyed her commands.

The next morning when I awoke, I had notifications blowing up my phone. It all appeared to be coming from one Instagram post. I unlocked my phone, revealing the picture causing the commotion. It was the host of the party along with his roommates, one of which was Peter. They were gathered for a group photo, all of their hands placed on the same thing. My cowboy hat. 

The photo was captioned:

“Alright country corn, you know where the hat is! Looks like you’ll have to come to our next party to get it back.”

I didn’t know much about myself, but I did know I would be getting that hat back.