Chapter 23

Trunk or Treat 

(Unedited)

In Linda’s living room, I pace back and forth, wondering what to say. I had never gone trick or treating as a kid, the forbidden witchcraft called against my childhood imagination. Nor had my family left any treats for the sacred “sinners” that had been bestowed to like some fun of what the Pagan holiday held. Whilst still attending Midnight Mass for the robed man at Christmas. 

“You look stunned,” I hear the ever so lovely voice of Linda, as I see her approach wearing her Nurse scrubs, loose strands of hair straggling down the side of her face, showing that she had been used to how she looks amongst being tired and most possibly doing work than I could bargain for, amongst working with the community. 

“Just worried I’ll mess this up,” I told her truthfully. The words leaving my mouth before I could summon up anymore words to tell her. “What if they don’t like my version of Rey Skywalker?” I ask her. A question that I was sure she had prepared an answer for. She was a nurse. She’s supposed to have an answer for those who are scared. 

“Luke, darling, I’ve come to find that in this generation you’ve got to put the what if’s behind you and keep going,” Linda tells me, taking a seat on the sofa as Christian comes down from his bedroom dressed up in a Dolly Parton costume, showing no flaws of insecure. Instead of saying something, I simply smile as he enters the living room where his guardian and I were. 

“You look,” I tell him as I try to find the right adjectives to say. Stunning. That’s the word that popped out in my mind. “Beautiful,” I tell him, as my nervousness calms down, then pulling out my phone to take a photo of him as he poses, and urges me to join him for a selfie. 

“I’m going to let you two finish,” Linda announces, as she gets up from where she was sitting on the couch, making a beeline towards the kitchen, leaving us alone in the living room until we were certain that we were ready to leave for the tradition of costumes and candy. 

***

“I started listening to Dolly Parton when I was a kid,” Christian tells me as we get in his jeep, turning up the volume for whatever our soundtrack endured during the ride. I didn’t feel as though he had needed to tell me why he had dressed up as Dolly, but I was ready to listen. It was time to hear his story. “Maybe five or something. My mother just listened to her day and night. No favourite album or song, just simply listened,” he added, his voice slightly cracking, giving me a feeling this was going to add to his “I don’t do heartbreak” line he had told me once. 

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to,” I tell him, yet I had wanted him to tell me. I hadn’t known this version of Christian and I was more than ready to learn now. 

“I want to though,” he tells me softly. “I haven’t talked about it in a while,” he adds, as the silence between us sets in, letting him gather what he had wanted to say. My mind wandered places and thoughts I wasn’t sure about the answers that they would lead to. 

“Is that how you ended up here? In Ember River, I mean?” I ask, clarifying as my curiosity gets the better of me. These are the questions and reasons I wished we had talked about earlier as our relations and stories stowed away. 

“Part of it. The heroin addiction didn’t help,” he tells me, his hand gripping the steering wheel, leaving to wonder if he was going to tell me more or just leave me hanging, confirming what Dryden had told me. The reality of confirming what I hadn’t wanted to be true, now being true. Would he tell me why he had the addiction, or should I ask him? I remember reading somewhere that Kurt Cobain had gotten addicted shortly after recording the band’s biggest album, well we in high anarchy know what happened to the band after that. Was it like that? 

“So what Dryden had said was true?” I ask, before I could stop myself. This wasn’t just curiosity now. It was a full frontal on wanting the story to know how this had happened. Why had Dryden known before I had? Has my paranoia gotten the best of me? 

“No. He told you I was dealing. I never dealt,” he tells me as he looks at me as the setting of the Trunk or Treat battleground comes into view, no one there yet, except for those setting up and getting their vehicles ready for giving out candy. More questions were spinning in my head as he drove into our spot where we would be. 

“My parents definitely wouldn’t want me hanging around,” I tell him as we slide out of the jeep. “Don’t I get to choose, though?” I reverend my question, wishing I wouldn’t have to explain the narratives of him confessing his drug addiction to me. “I would like to know how Dryden found out and changed it around though,” I tell him, shutting the driver side door. 

“Besides Linda, and my councilor, you’re the only one who knows,” he tells me, grabbing one bag of candy he had, dumping them in the plastic cauldron Linda had placed in the trunk.  “I was addicted, got so bad my parents wanted nothing to do with me,” he tells me, the crack in his voice returning from earlier. I did not know he had it so bad. 

“Was it because?” The rest of the question about his addiction lingering in my mind. Would it be too much to ask if he got addicted because of an unspoken sexual orientation and identity of who he is? I had heard sometimes addiction starts with mental health and human identity. Our eyes meet for a brief second, as though he’s suddenly uncomfortable sharing all of this. 

“I did it for fun, looking back, I’d never wish to do it again,” he scoffs, finalising the conversation as kids and their parents start to come to the jeep to collect the varied candies that they would scrounge on their journey home or to the next vehicle. My thoughts about a part of his life that he had shared now taking that of a life like a kid looking at a treasure map, only difference being I had living relief that he’d never wish or want to use drugs as a coping mechanism again.

“I’ll kick your ass if you do,” I whisper to him, as I smile, he only smirks in reply as if he knew I meant it. 

***

“Mommy it’s that drummer from that group you like,”I hear a kid dressed as a cartoon dog, estactly tell their parent as they see Christian dressed as Dolly, I can’t help but chuckle at the thought that they took Dolly Parton as a drummer from a music group, leaving me to picture Dolly rocking out some rock set, as the child picks out some candy. 

“You’re a drummer for a band now?” I question happily, as I hold imaginary drumsticks, which I was probably holding wrong, but didn’t care. “I can see Dolly doing that,” I add as more families pass collecting their candied treasures. Maybe this sinful and demonic tradition wasn’t so bad afterall. 

“Well Dolly is in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame,” Christian notes as he leans in and quickly gives me a kiss on the cheek, as I feel the red colouring my face. I stayed in the moment for as long as I could. My paramount audacity breaking with everyone passing, their fears of two males kissing in public was something that they didn’t care about as long as they were distracted, or maybe their religious practices had different rules, either way, no one said anything. 

“A boy is Rey Skywalker,” another child announced as they grabbed some candy with some of their friends, as a small debate on whether a boy could be Rey or not slightly broke out. With that I marvel at what I had wanted to say. I didn’t have this part ready in my map of thoughts. 

“Rey is a Jedi, by definition a Jedi is either,” I start to tell them. Was I explaining it right? If it were Dryden, I was sure that this conversation would be easier, even with his judgment.

“We know what a Jedi is, boys wore robes like Obi-Wan, and girls wore robes like Rey. They didn’t wear dresses. I don’t think,” one of the kids tells me. I guessed that was some way to explain it. In the franchise, they didn’t really detail that Jedi wore dresses, but robes.  

“I believe girl Jedi can wear either, but can also dress like Knights,” I tell the kids. “George Lucas didn’t really explain,” I add before they get bored with this short lived conversation and run off with their candies. 

“Cool kids never have time to explain,” Christian tells me. I smile back at him, before I can stop myself, I place my lips on his. His lips are soft, gentle and tasting like cherry cola. I should have ripped myself away from him, as we were in front of an unknown number of unknown people, doing what families do on Halloween, hanging down with the freaks and ghouls. Yet, neither one of us seemed to care. If anyone asked, we needed to justify ourselves? 

“This changes everything, doesn't it?” Christian asks as we break apart from the kiss. I hadn’t thought about that. What exactly did he mean by this? Should I ask him what he meant by that? Instead I have no time to vision quest what he meant by that. 

“I guess it does,” I tell him, as I swallow the confidence I just had a mere moment ago, as my fears from before come resurfacing back. So much for the glow version of Luke. I was back to square one. “Why though?” I ask as an afterthought.

“The hardest question to answer is why,” he tells me as he grabs my hand. “We only kissed in front of everyone to see,” he adds as he lets go of my hand and refills the candy cauldron. My thought dragged to how tomorrow would go at school tomorrow, as I wonder if I should Reddit advice or rewatch Young Royals again to seek out how Wilhelm and Simon made it work. 

“People are going to talk,” I tell him as I adjust my reality and accept what the small town gossip will be tomorrow, or the rumours that will start in the hallways at school. I accepted it like velocity and free fall happening as a robotic team watches as their competitor rips apart their robot in the match.

“So let them. People talk to make their fantasies become a reality,” Christian tells me. “Look at me, I’m dressed as Dolly Parton, knowing that this town is already talking about it,” he tells me as adjusts his wig from being crooked. 

“I’m sure that’s a crucifix,” I tell him as a family comes up, grabbing candy. Their mother sorts through the candy for each family member. “You’re different though,” I tell him as my brain works out what to say next. A mental reminder to stop overthinking as my paces back, justifying what to say to my parents as I was sure that they would find out about this. 

“How so?” Christian asks as a little Snow White walks by carrying a Halloween basket already filled to the brim with candy. 

“You don’t worry about the crucifixion of this town. You’re eight track tape in a Spotfied generation, and you flaunt it where you have it,” I tell him. How I could compare him to an eight track tape is something I wasn’t sure of. Though, I had guessed that was the best way to describe him. 

“Look at you, you’re the one wearing a Rey Skywalker costume,” he tells me in a rebound defense. What was he trying to get at? Wasn’t it just a costume, meant to be worn by either male or female? “A while ago, you wouldn’t have thought of wearing it,” he adds, progressing his point. 

“So what about it?” I ask, not bothering to look at him, though I had an idea about what he had wanted to say. 

“A little while ago, you cared about what people thought. Now look at your glow up,” he tells me with a little smile. “I’d say this progress fits you,” he says. 

As the night of Trunk or Treat starts fading away, I wonder if he had meant what he had said. Had I made that much progress? Had I worked on my quantum genetics of free fall? Maybe I should push all it aside, rewire my thoughts, and ride with the flow. Instead all I could think of telling him was “I learned to vibe more,” repeating the words he had told me shortly after we had just met. 

While in my mindset, I still wasn’t prepared for what comes next.