Penelope

Halloween, my favourite holiday, is on the horizon. We're halfway through October, and work is running smoothly. Since the issues with the piping being up to protocol, nothing else has gone wrong. I hope it stays that way.

"We have to dress up for Halloween," I tell Cassian as he merges into the other lane. We're on our way to Vernon to visit Historic O'Keefe Ranch's pumpkin patch and haunted corn maze. It's just after four o'clock and the sun is already dipping behind the mountains, casting a golden shadow across the geography. "And decorate. We're going to have trick or treaters in our neighbourhood. We can't disappoint the kids. Disappointing them would be a dark mark on our consciences."

"Not mine," Cassian chuckles. "Halloween can go fuck itself. What's the point of dressing up? It's a waste of money, if you ask me."

I poke Cassian in the side. "Okay, Halloween Grinch. If you hate Halloween so much, why do you want to go to a pumpkin patch?"

Cassian purses his lips. "Autumn is my favourite season. I enjoy partaking in activities that relate to autumn, such as going to a pumpkin patch."

"Halloween relates to autumn," I frown.

"Look," he says, stopping at a red light. Ahead, I can see the wooden fence lining Historic O'Keefe Ranch. It's been three years since the last time I drove to Vernon and visited. We're in the countryside area, where hills roll into the mountains, dotted with livestock and large sprinklers. Orchards that have turned red and orange surround the property, and a large cornfield. "When I say I hate Halloween, I mean I hate dressing up. I'll carve a pumpkin. I'll hand out candy to little kids. But dressing up? No way in hell."

The light turns green, and Cassian guides his SUV through the intersection, around a corner, and then into the busy dirt parking lot. I can't say I'm surprised at how busy it is. Historic O'Keefe Ranch attracts thousands of people each year—especially during October. Their haunted corn mazes are high end. "Why do you hate dressing up?" I ask. "Technically, it's also related to autumn."

"Don't get technical with me, Pen," he warns, coasting to a stop to let pedestrians cross the dirt road. We might be stuck circling the parking lot for a while. "I hate the concept of dressing up because of the racism I've faced."

A wave of dread washes over me. These types of conversations are never comfortable, but I want to hear more about his experience. I want to learn more about the topic

"Can you tell me more?" I ask softly.

He side-glances me, a look of appreciation saturating his brown eyes. "I don't like it when people abuse my culture. Halloween is about impersonating a character—not a culture. When someone dresses up as Pocahontas, although she's a character, it's a strike against culture and beliefs." He steps on the gas and takes a left. We're in the last row of the dirt parking lot and just ahead, there's a parking spot. He glances from side-to-side and speeds up a little, despite the directions being one-way. After Cassian's parked and cut the engine, he turns to look at me. "Halloween sucks, okay? While most people understand how costumes depicting our culture are an act of racism, you get those ignorant assholes who argue and cannot understand how complex everything is. Racial slurs are the worst, Pen. You should be thankful you don't have to deal with them."

I reach for Cassian's hand and squeeze it. I've had plenty of white privilege in my lifetime, but that doesn't give me an excuse to relish in it. What I have to do is learn how it affects other races and cultures, and contribute to making the world a better place. "I'm sorry, Cass. I didn't think about it that way. I'm trying, though."

"It's okay," he smiles, running his thumb along the underside of my wrist. "You have plenty of knowledge about rights and wrongs. I don't have to worry about you misrepresenting Indigenous culture." He removes the keys from the ignition and sighs. "Now, let's get this over with. There better be some fair food here."

"There is," I reply, "trust me. We can load up on mini-doughnuts, corn dogs, and poutine all night." At least, I'm hoping there's a fair food stand or food truck here. Things may have changed since the last time I was here, and their website lacked any additional information.

In the dusky light, Cassian and I make our way to the grounds of Historic O'Keefe Ranch. Old-fashioned lamps light the way, guiding us to the booth where we can purchase our tickets for the corn maze. People are bustling around us, snacking on foods like roasted corn-on-the-cob, sweet maple candies from the candy shop, and various fair foods. After Cassian's purchased our tickets, we find a bench to sit on. We haven't decided what to do first.

"I think we should eat first," Cassian says. "Then do the corn maze. After that's done, we can grab our pumpkins and go." He eyes a group of teenagers taking selfies with their bags of maple candies. "And maybe some of those candies."

His proposal churns in my mind. I don't want to throw up in the corn maze, but I'm starving. If I get sick from running, Cassian can always carry me out of the corn maze. "Okay," I reply. "We'll go with that plan."

"Great," he smiles. He adjusts his lined jean jacket as he stands. "Let's get a move on, then."

As Cassian and I push our way through the crowd, he holds onto my hand so we don't lose each other. We're fighting our way to the fair food stand, breathing in the smell of deep-fried mini doughnuts and corn dogs. The scent of hot oil, fresh air, and farm animals reminds me of the Armstrong Fair. It's been years since I last went to the Armstrong Fair, but I'm planning on attending next year. Work got in the way this time around, but I won't allow that to happen again. I've been craving a haystack taco salad and some fudge. I don't know what it is about fair food, but it always tastes ten times better than regular food—even if it's carcinogenic.

While Cassian inspects the menu, I glance around the property, noting nothing has changed since the last time I was here. The same fence outlines the pasture. The same old Victorian-style buildings are standing, looking old and weathered. Even the red barn still stands. I'd say the only modern-looking addition is the trimmed grass and autumn-style baskets that line the gravel pathway. The view brings a smile to my face. It appears some aspects of the Okanagan just never change.

"What are you getting?" Cassian asks, nudging me.

"Poutine," I reply. Who doesn't love fries, cheese, gravy, and ketchup all mashed together in one dish? Okay... ketchup isn't usually included in the dish, but I love the addition of sweetness it gives.

Cassian rubs his stubbled jaw as we step up to the front.

"What can I get for you?" a teenage boy asks. He's wearing a red-striped apron and has his red hair slicked back into a low ponytail.

"We'll get two orders of the poutine," Cassian replies, laying down a ten-dollar bill.

The kid calls for two orders of poutine and then turns to count out Cassian's change.

"Hey," I say, nudging Cassian. "You didn't need to pay for mine."

Cassian shrugs as the worker drops change into his hand, which he then pockets. We shift over to the space where we're supposed to wait for our orders. "It's fine, Pen. You can buy the pumpkins."

I give him a look. Because he bought our passes and made sure we got the special, he knows damn well our pumpkins are free. He returns my look with a satisfied smirk. I look away, shaking my head. He's hopeless.

Once we've received our poutines, we search for a picnic table or bench to sit at. The crowd has increased since we arrived, so it's difficult to find a spot. We eventually lean against the fence and eat.

"God," Cassian murmurs, wiping gravy from the corner of his mouth. He stares down at three college students sporting costumes. "Why do people like Halloween?"

I nudge him in the side. "You've had an unpleasant experience, and it needs to be remedied. There are always going to be ignorant people int he world. I, however, am not an ignorant person. You and I should dress up. We could be Lady Deadpool and Deadpool. Or Leia and Han Solo."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Those sound an awful lot like couple costumes."

A fuzzy feeling spreads through my stomach, but I rebound his comment with: "That's because you're taking it out of context. Just because people want to collaborate with costumes doesn't mean they're a couple." I give him another nudge. "Come on. It'll be fun. Just you and me handing out candy for the kids."

Cassian rolls his eyes. "We must lie down some rules."

I take a bite of my poutine, cold air nipping at my cheeks. I'm going to need to walk around soon or else my ass will freeze to the fence. I'm such a wimp in cold weather. "And what are these rules?"

He stabs a gravy-smothered fry and inspects it before popping it in his mouth. "No effort is expected of me. If you want to celebrate Halloween, then you round up the costumes and put them together. Take as many photos as you want, just don't put them on social media. No masks, either. I hate masks."

I snort. "Those rules will be easy to abide by."

He glances at me, his eyes glimmering. "Did you think I was finished?"

My smile turns lopsided. "You're not a complicated man to figure out, Cassian."

Shaking his head, with a smile on his face, he turns back to his poutine and shoves another bite in his mouth.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Cassian asks.

We're at the front of the line, waiting to be let in to the haunted corn maze. We're already done with the two smaller mazes, which were much less scary than this one is supposed to be. I edge a little closer to Cassian, the only light around us coming from the lamp at the entrance. In the distance, I can hear the sounds of echoing screams and a chainsaw. There are spooky Halloween sound effects, too. Although I'm a little scared, I'm excited to walk through.

"Yes," I reply.

"Pen, you look like you're about to have a panic attack."

"So what if I do?"

Cassian rolls his eyes and drags me forward. Now that the couple who entered the maze before us has disappeared around the corner, we're allowed to enter. The entryway is made of an arc of dried cornstalks with a large sign saying Enter if you dare. Cassian's shoulder is pressed against mine as we walk. It's almost as if he's trying to comfort me without making us look like a couple. Although I would love to feel his hand tucked in my back pocket or his arm around my shoulders, what he's doing is cute. It makes me remember why I love having him in my life.

For the first two minutes, nothing comes running at us or jumps out from the corn stalks. But that doesn't mean I let my guard down. Being close to Cassian is a second thought by this point. I'm too focused on my surroundings to care.

"So," Cassian says, gazing up at the stars above us. There aren't many, considering the light pollution and patchy cloud cover. "Now that you know why I hate Halloween, I want to know why you love it so much."

I wrinkle my nose, jumping when I hear screams come from ahead. Well, fuck. I shuffle closer to Cassian. "I'm not in love with Halloween."

"Pen," he laughs, "you're the human version of Jack Skellington. I'm waiting for you to claim your title as the Pumpkin King." He glances at me from the corner of his eye. "I saw you on Pinterest. You were searching for Halloween ideas and how to decorate the outside."

A sheepish grin creeps across my face. "Okay, maybe—"

My sentence is cut off by a loud scream that erupts from my chest. I jump away from the evil clown, touching my shoulder and clutch Cassian's arm. All Cassian does is stare the clown down, not bothered by the scare tactics. "This is pathetic," he mutters, rolling his eyes. He rests a hand on my lower back and guides me away from the clown. "Why are you scared of clowns?"

"It's not that I'm scared of clowns," I reply, tumbling over the uneven ground. When I glace up at Cassian, I realize his brow is furrowed, and he's speed-walking. A ghost of a smile curves my lips. Could he be scared, too? "It's the element of surprise that affects me," I continue. "Clowns don't bother me. Nor do zombies or mummies."

Following the signs, Cassian and I take a right. Ahead, there's a man sitting in a chair. He's shrouded by darkness, save for the small beam of light coming from a portable lamp. His silhouette is intimidating; there's a farmer's hat on his head, which is facing downward, and straw sticks out from his overalls. Although I want to run in the other direction, Cassian continues to guide me forward. When we come close to the unmoving man, I press myself into Cassian's side. "I hate this," I murmur. "Why did you let me do it?"

Bewildered, he gapes at me. "Seriously, Pen?"

I give him a light shove. "Bear with me. I blab when I'm anxious." As we skirt around Scarecrow Man, I eye him carefully, preparing myself for any sudden movements. But he doesn't move. Which is almost worse—the tension in my shoulders is brutal. After a few more steps, though, the tension fades away. That is until the piercing, ear-splitting sound of a chainsaw erupts behind us.

Another scream erupts from my chest. Cassian even jumps, his jerky motions spinning both of us around to see the chair the man was sitting on laying on the ground.

"That's a real chainsaw!" I exclaim.

"It is," Cassian nods, staring ahead. His grip is tight around my hand.

I tug at his arm, a smile on my face. "Come on," I say. "This isn't so bad, right? Halloween isn't so bad when you're with good people."

"Fine," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe Halloween isn't so bad." He eyes me carefully. "That has yet to be officially determined, though. It's not Halloween yet."

Casting my gaze to the trail ahead of us, I smile and shake my head. "Whatever you say."

* * *

"And that's why I like Halloween," I conclude, shifting the weight of my perfect pumpkin in my arms.

Cassian gives me a skeptical look. "Because of candy? That doesn't seem like a good reason."

I shrug, not knowing what else to tell him. Ever since I was a kid, Halloween has been my favourite holiday because of all the free chocolate and candy. It was the one time of year I could indulge without my parents giving me lessons on healthy foods.

"Chocolate," I elaborate. "It's true I have little of a sweet tooth, but every Halloween I eat lots and lots of chocolate."

"Huh," he replies, tossing his mini-pumpkin from hand to hand. I told Cassian to get a bigger pumpkin, but he liked having a smaller one to carve. Besides, he chose the type you can use to bake pumpkin pie after.

Now that we've completed our money's worth of activities, we're on our way back to the SUV. I'm not looking forward to driving back to West Kelowna, but I am looking forward to blasting the heat. The temperature has dropped and I can feel the lingering chill in my bones. Tonight's been fun and relaxing, despite my sore throat from all the screaming I did. While Historic O'Keefe Ranch hasn't changed, their scare tactics have. Last time I visited the haunted corn maze, I wasn't that scared.

"That was fun," Cassian continues. "It was better than moping around."

I give him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry about Ophelia."

"Don't be," he replies. "Just because you've found your biological family doesn't mean you have to apologize for their ignorance or mistakes."

"I know," I reply, stepping around a group of teenagers waiting for their ride. "But you were so happy—I hate things didn't work out for you."

"Maybe it's for the best," he shrugs.

My eyebrows furrow in slight confusion. He's not as mopey as he should be. When I glance at him, I see he's also frowning. During times like these, I wish I could read his mind. It would be nice to know the right thing to say. How I can help him. "You're being awfully lenient," I reply. "What's going on?"

Cassian removes the keys from his pocket and unlocks the SUV. However, before he opens the door, he turns to me. "There's nothing between your cousin and I, Pen," he admits. "I realized that at dinner. I don't agree with her outlook on work overpowering family and friends."

To appear just as supportive as ever, I lean against the vehicle and say, "Two people, when they're a couple, can't be the same or else the relationship will fizzle out."

"I agree," he replies, "but if there's one thing I want my future girlfriend to have in common with me, it's balance."

I give him a small smile. When the time comes, when he meets someone who can capture his heart, he's going to be a great husband and father. "You've got your head screwed on right, Cass," I reply.

Chuckling, Cassian turn his back to me and opens the driver's door. "Yeah," he mutters. In the mirror's reflection, I can see a light dusting of blush on his cheeks. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."