Castle Juliet Page 9

  “Good,” Jack said, sticking close to his father. He knew the man was tired, and he knew this might be his only chance to talk to him, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to take the leap. He’d already talked himself out of it. Phillip liked to relax in his favorite chair after work and put his feet up anyway. So, maybe it was best just to let it go.

  “Something on your mind, Jacky-boy?”

  Jack looked at his father, opened his mouth, closed it, but didn’t answer right away. Now that the day was here, he wanted to go more than ever, and he didn’t know how to approach the situation. Either way, Jack told himself, it was no big deal. He could always go next year.

  “I wanted to ask you something, Dad,” Jack said, looking down at his feet. He moved the toe of his shoe across the carpet. “But you’ve been so busy the last couple of weeks, I only brought it up once, and I know you’re tired and everything, and you like to sit in your favorite chair when you come home—like you’re probably tired now and just want to rest—and I didn’t even think about supper, either, on account of I wasn’t planning on you coming home so early today, but here it is, and I was thinking maybe you forgot, and it’s really no big deal anyway, but I wanted to ask—”

  “You sound out of breath,” Phillip said, raising his eyebrows. “I won’t know anything until you tell me. So, why don’t you take another deep breath, get your bearings about you, and let her rip. Cause, like I said, I won’t know until you ask.”

  “Well, they’re having this pumpkin carving contest down at the school today—”

  “Pumpkin-carving contest!” Phillip exclaimed, and smacked his head with the heel of his hand. For a second, Jack thought he saw a light bulb go off above his dad’s head. “Holy cow! You told me about it a while ago, didn’t you, son? I’ll be gal-darned if it didn’t completely slip my mind.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jack said, looking at his father. “And I was really hoping we could go, but I didn’t want to bother you if you were tired, and I don’t have my costume from last year anyway, so I’d have to make a new one. I thought you’d want to rest, so I just been kinda talking myself out of it, but now it’s here, I can’t stop thinking about it, and Alice and her dad are gonna be there, and I just thought it would be sorta fun. Because law requires every child should be accompanied by one parent, sir.” Jack took another deep breath, as if he couldn’t believe all this had spewed from his mouth.

  Phillips smiled at his son. “So, you need a costume?” he said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And do I need a costume?”

  “Yes, sir. All the other parents are dressing up, too, so it would be kinda funny, if you didn’t dress up, sir.”

  “And a pumpkin?” Phillip said. “We need to bring our pumpkin, too, I’m thinking?”

  “That’s correct, sir.”

  “What should we do about dinner?” Phillip said.

  “I can make us a bowl of cereal, sir.”

  “Nonsense. It’ll save more time if we just get some burgers on the way, after we pick up the pumpkin. Why time does all this festivity begin, Jacky-boy?”

  “Six o’clock sir.”

  “Well, that gives us about an hour and a half, it looks like,” Phillip said. “Come on, son, we got no time to lose.”

  *

  Jack’s father climbed up into the attic and disappeared for some time. He came down later with an armload of various items: folded black fabric, sheets of cardboard paper, and some black shoes. “Here, Jacky-boy,” he said, handing Jack the supplies. “I kept all this crafty stuff of your mother’s just in case a pumpkin carving contest came along and—wouldn’t you know it—today is the day. If my boy wants to be Mr. Hyde, then by golly, Mr. Hyde he shall be.”

  Phillip stepped into his own room and came out with more clothes. One was a bright red and black flannel shirt and a pair of threadbare hiking boots. “Your mother was the one who could sew, Jack,” he said. “She could repair the top of the Superdome with just a needle and thread. I’m sure of it. But I think we can improvise.”

  Jack beamed, enjoying this entire charade. Phillip found some scissors and sat down in the living room in his favorite chair. He cut a long piece of black fabric and told Jack to stand in front of him. When he was done, he fitted the fabric around Jack’s shoulders to see how long it was.

  “We’re gonna have to settle for what we have here, Jacky-boy. I’m no seamstress. Your mother would be appalled by how we’re putting this costume together, but we are in a race against time, yes?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jack said, and snapped his heels together.

  “Now, then,” Phillip went on, adjusting the fabric around Jack’s shoulders. “I think with a little dexterity and our imaginations, we should be able to sew on a little clasp right about here.” He pointed to where the clasp should go. “I don’t know much about this kind of stuff, but I’m no dummy, either.”

  “No dummy, no sir!” Jack said, slapping his heels together again and issuing a salute to make any soldier proud. Phillip chuckled at his son, who—for whatever reason—was so pleased with his father, he was snapping to attention, and acting like a soldier, just in case another role besides Mr. Hyde presented itself.

  “Okay, I think I got it,” Phillip said. “Go to your room and find some black clothes, socks, pants, shirts, whatever you can find. Put them all on and come running back to me, and we’ll see what kind of progress is made then. What time is it, Jacky-boy?”

  Jack grinned because his father was wearing a watch, but if the man wanted Jack to humor him, he was happy to oblige. “Four-forty-five, sir!” he said, and saluted again. Jack would have mentioned army time, but he wasn’t sure how to read army time from a clock, let alone what to say.

  “Plenty of time,” Phillip said. “Plenty of time. Run along, son.”

  Jack hurried to his room and rummaged through the dresser drawers and the closet. His mother had enjoyed going to church sometimes, and Jack owned a pair of black socks for the occasion. He wondered why his father didn’t go to church anymore. Maybe it reminded him of Mom too much. Jack hadn’t thought about it until now. He forgot about all this, because as Phillip said, they were in a race against time, and he wanted to make his father proud. He found a black T-shirt, black shoes, black socks, changed as quickly as he could, and ran back to the living room. His father was holding the cape up with both hands, as if measuring it without Jack in it.

  “Hey, Jacky—” his father said, then widened his eyes when he noticed the shoes. “Oh, you have shoes! Perfect! I forgot about this stuff—going to church with your momma. Thought you’d have to clump around in your old man’s shoes. That wouldn’t be good for business, no sir. You’d look and feel more like a clown than Mr. Hyde, I’d say. My, Jacky-boy, you are a handsome devil in your spiffy clothes, but in this case, you are going to be a well-dressed psychopath! I find you’ll take that as a compliment on this particular day?”

  “Take it as a compliment any day of the year, sir!” And Jack snapped his heels together and saluted again.

  “Well, maybe we can go to church sometime to honor your mother one of these days. Do us both some good, I think. What harm can it do? No costumes then, though, I’m afraid. They’ll have us thrown in jail!”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir!”

  “What time is it, Jacky-boy?”

  “Just after five, sir,” Jack said.

  “Plenty of time. Plenty of time.”

  Phillip spread the cape out for Jack to see. “Look, Jack. Got the clasp all sewed on. Whattaya think? Only pricked my thumb have a dozen times. Well, I don’t think that’s too bad considering the situation. I’ll just wipe the blood on my pants. Hee-hee!”

  “Excellent, sir!” Jack said.

  “What time we got?”

  “Same time as when you asked me a minute ago, sir.”

  “That would be only one minute later then when I asked you and the time you gave me, Jacky-boy. Plenty of time. Plenty of time.”

  Jack’s
father put the cape around the boy’s neck and fitted the clasp together. “Why, Jack, it looks splendid! Maybe Mother would be proud!”

  “No doubt in my mind, sir,” Jack said, and saluted again.

  “Are you a villain or a soldier, Jacky-boy?”

  “Both, sir. I believe in versatility!”

  Phillip laughed at that. “That’s my boy,” he said. “Well, so far so good. I still got some of you mom’s old make-up and stuff in a top dresser drawer somewhere. Then, we’ll put your hat together.”

  Jack nodded. Phillip went to the room, rummaged around for a while, and came back with some make-up. “I found some stuff that might work, Jacky-boy,” he said, with a handful of cosmetics. He sat down in the chair again.

  “You want blue or green for your face, Jack?” Phillip asked. “I think the blue will look kinda ghostly and spooky, but the green will look more corpse-like, like you’re dead. What do you think?

  “That’s a tough decision, sir.”

  “That it is, my boy. Why, if it were me, I’d go with green. Mr. Hyde, after all, is not a ghost. He’s flesh and blood. Now, if you were going as Dracula in a top hat and cape, that would be different.”

  “Green it is then, sir.”

  “Good choice, lad.”

  Phillip applied the green make-up to Jack’s face, which was like one of those masks he’d sometimes seen his mom wear when she came out of the bathroom. She once told him it helped make wrinkles disappear. Jack wondered if he’d look like an infant when he rubbed the make-up off. Nevertheless, it was a creepy shade of green, and seeing his mother in the mask had scared him before, so this might work pretty well.

  Phillip applied the makeup and left enough room around Jack’s mouth and eyes for some black shoe polish, which he was applying now. Jack had a dark, dead, shadowy look about him. When Phillip was done, Jack’s eyes, surrounded in black make-up, peered out of a green skull. He also had a wide, black, freaky-looking mouth. Jack looked, indeed, like a hideous villain who skulked by the light of the moon.

  “Smile for me, Jack,” Phillip said.

  Jack smiled and opened his eyes wide for effect. Phillip was perfectly frightened. He did a little jig with his hands and feet, opened his eyes wide in terror, screamed, and crawled back up and over the chair. He shivered dramatically and held his hand to his heart. He collected himself and sat back down. “Boy, you are terrifying,” he said. “Spooky. Creepy. All out horrific. I think my heart just leapt out of my chest. Gonna have nightmares for weeks.”

  “Thank you, sir!” Jack said, beaming wide, and saluted.

  “What time is it, Jack?”

  Jack looked at the clock on the wall and said, “Five-twenty-five, sir!”

  “How long does it take to drive to your school, Jack?”

  “About two minutes, sir, barring road blocks, a flash flood, or escaped convicts!”

  “The way you look, I wouldn’t be surprised. But I think we got plenty of time, yes sir. Plenty of time.”

  After this, Phillip took the cardboard paper and they went outside. It was cool and misty, and the smell of lighted pumpkins from nearby houses filled the air. Jack pictured the shadows behind the house coming to life, the chuckling of ghosts, and bony fingers curling around the corner of the woodshop. The gangly trees looked sharp and angry, bearing claws and fangs of their own. The sun began its slow descent toward the mountains to the west, but there was still plenty of light for them to see by.

  They walked into the woodshop, and Phillip closed the door behind them, turning on the overhead lights. He walked over to the workbench and didn’t waste any time. He cut the cardboard with the scissors, grabbed some duct tape, and fitted the paper around Jack’s head, making sure it was a good fit. Keeping his fingers tight on the seam, Phillip proceeded to tape the inside together using the duct tape. He took another piece of cardboard paper, used the roll he had for a model, drew a circle, then another circle several inches thick from the proceeding circle. This would be the brim. Phillip cut this out, taped it where the tape wouldn’t show, connecting the two pieces together. It was, in all aspects, a top hat now, and it didn’t look too bad. Phillip cut another circle for the top and taped this from the inside of the hat. Now, in case the mist turned to rain, Jack’s hair wouldn’t get wet. Jack was impressed. Phillip took the hat and looked through the bottom of it, holding it up toward the overhead light.

  “We won’t be outside too long in case it rains,” Phillip said. “This thing has a few small gaps in it, but we can fix that with the tape.”

  “It’s raining now, sir,” Jack said.

  “Blast.”

  “It’s okay. Like you said, we won’t be outside except to run from the truck to the school.”

  “And it’s a light rain,” Phillip said, nodding.

  “You’re very optimistic, sir,” Jack said.

  “Thank you, son,” Phillip said. “And you are flat out creepy-looking. You should see your face under these lights.”

  Phillip moved over to a shelf and pulled down a can of black spray paint. He shook it and shook it, making the little ball rattle around inside. He set Jack’s hat on a scrap of wood. He sprayed and sprayed until the whole thing was covered—inside and out—in a glossy shade of black. The fumes were dizzying on Jack’s brain, the smell pungent and strong. Phillip capped the top and set the can back on the shelf.

  “Now, then, Jacky-boy. You let that dry and I’ll run inside and change. What time we got, son?”

  “I don’t know, sir! You don’t have a clock in here. But you do have a watch on.”

  “Never mind. Won’t be a minute.”

  Jack waited inside the woodshop while his father disappeared outside and back into the house. He had no idea what his father planned to be.

  *

  The hat dried quickly enough, and soon afterwards, Phillip entered the woodshop wearing the red and black flannel, suspenders, some loose fitting jeans, hiking boots, and a black knit hat. He had an axe slung over his shoulder.

  “A lumberjack!” Jack said, widening his eyes.

  “Or a lumber-Jacky-boy,” Phillip said. “Depending on how you look at it.”

  “It’s perfect, Dad!” Jack said, hopping off the stool where he was sitting.

  “Thank you, son. How does the hat fit?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t tried it on, yet, but I think it’s dry.”

  Jack picked up the hat and slipped it on. He looked up at his father, smiled, and Phillip let out a scream like a little girl, did a frightened little dance again, and put his hand to his heart.

  “Man, Jacky-boy,” Phillip said, taking a deep breath. “You are frightening little ghoul to look at. One creepy Mr. Hyde.”

  “Thank you, sir!” Jack said, and saluted again.

  “Well, let’s head on out, son. We’ll get a pumpkin at the supermarket, and then pick up a couple of burgers on the way. That way we can carve the pumpkin with our bellies full. How does that sound?”

  “Magnificent, sir!” Jack said.

  Phillip laughed and they headed back inside. They grabbed some knives to carve the pumpkin with, putting them in a bag, then headed out into the truck, shutting the doors after them.

  “Ready, son?” Phillip said.

  “Aye-aye, Lumber-Jacky-boy!” Jack said, and they peeled away from the house just as the sun began to set.

  *

  They stopped at the grocery store and bought a huge pumpkin, almost as the big as the turkey they’d gotten for Alice and her parents. This time, Phillip carried it. Shoppers eyed the two of them, raising their eyebrows. Jack played the role to perfection, widening his eyes with perfectly creepy flair. Several customers actually looked frightened.

  When the pumpkin was paid for and in the back of the truck, Phillip and Jack steered out of the lot, and stopped at a nearby A&W Root Beer. Phillip ordered two double cheeseburgers, two root beers, and a large order of fries, which they split between them. Just as they were finishing their meal, they reac
hed the school. Other cars lined the lot, kids dressed up with parents also in costumes, carrying pumpkins. The evening was darkening, the mist still light.

  They parked, got out, shut the doors behind them, and Phillip reached inside the truck bed for the pumpkin. He grabbed the axe and put it over his shoulder.

  “Uh, Dad?” Jack said.

  “Yeah, son?”

  “I’m not sure, but the axe might not be a good idea. With the teachers and all on Halloween, you know? If it was plastic, or a fake axe, it would be different. But people might think you came to, you know, chop everybody up.”

  Phillip considered this and nodded. “Good point, son. Though, the costume feels incomplete without it. Besides, you got the knives, and everyone else has knives. It’s like a bad horror movie just waiting to happen, ain’t it?”

  Jack giggled at the idea, and Phillip put the axe back into the bed of the truck. Jack carried the bag of knives. It was very appropriate, he thought, to be Mr. Hyde, carrying a bag of knives. The thought put a smile on his face.

  At the main doors, with other people in costume, Phillip looked at his watch.

  “What time is it, Dad?” Jack asked.

  “Two minutes to six, Jacky-boy. How’s that? Right on time. Right on time.”

  *

  The gym was to the right and down the hall. Goblins, witches, Draculas, Frankensteins, firemen, clowns, football players with black eyes and broken teeth, pirates, and cheerleaders congested the entire gym. It was a ghoulish festival, Halloween merriment at the top of its reign, a paradisiacal charade of black cats, ghosts, bemoaning wind, creepy spiders, and cemetery gates.

  Tables covered in plastic lined the entire floor. The bright, fluorescent lights were on. The pumpkin carving, apparently, had already begun. Jack saw a Frankenstein bride, a mother, and a shorter Frankenstein—her boy already carving. Jack smiled at them. A tall clown with poofy, comical red hair sat at a table near the front of the gym with a young girl in a wedding dress. Fake blood splashed one side of her face, and a fake knife jutted from the side of her head. She wore a homemade crown. Laughter and talking filled the gym. A movie screen had been set up where a projector played Dracula, starring Bela Lugosi. Orange and black streamers crisscrossed just under the lights and cascaded down the walls. Cotton had been spread apart and placed in the corners to resemble spider webs throughout the gym. Huge, plastic black spiders, bats, and ghosts hung from the ceiling. If Halloween could be considered festive, this was the place. Everyone seemed to be having a genuinely good time.