Page 5 of Becoming Family

“Sure,” Tabitha lied.

The girl scrunched her nose. “Toto didn’t wear a vest.”

“This is true.” Trinity, in her camo service vest, had no hints of Toto whatsoever. Not even a basket. “She’s a working dog. Dressing her up didn’t seem right.”

The girl shrugged. “She’s cute. And your shoes are cool.”

“Thanks. I like your costume, too.” Tabitha didn’t know what the girl was supposed to be. She looked like some kind of zombie Barbie, if that was a thing, with shredded bright colors and eerie face paint. Kids were so creative these days. When Tabitha was young they just cut up sheets or put in those plastic fangs that made your saliva pool. “Are you a zombie Barbie?”

“What’s a zombie Barbie?”

“I don’t know.” Tabitha shook her head. Awkward, even with kids.

After a long pause the girl said, “Don’t you have any candy?”

“Oh.” Tabitha laughed and pointed at the front door. “Ring the bell. I don’t live here.”

The girl’s eyes shifted to the front porch. The glass door revealed a group of women already inside—they’d gathered for the car pool over to the Halloween party at the gym. They milled between the rooms inside, all clad in costumes. “Why are you standing out here in the dark?” The girl looked the tree up and down, perhaps as impressed as Tabitha by the size, the great sweeping umbrella of lit-up branches, the careful placement of fake skeletons.

“That’s a good question.”I’m already late, she didn’t add.I got stopped by the tree. I wouldn’t mind living under this tree.No use saying things like that, unless she wanted to scare the poor kid for real. “I’ll go up with you.” Tabitha nodded at the door. This was the first time she’d ever been to Clementine’s house, even though they’d been gym buddies for about six months. She wouldn’t have pegged Clementine as a Halloween person, but this display was something else.

Braver than Tabitha, the girl rang the bell. Some time went by before Clementine appeared, clasping a plastic cauldron. She pushed open the door and the women’s voices filled the night. Clementine, dressed up like a marathon runner, complete with what looked like an official Marine Corps Marathon race bib from some years past, smiled at them both.

“Trick or treat.” The girl opened her pillowcase.

“Cool costume.”

“Thanks. I’m a clown who’s been murdered.”

Tabitha could totally see that now.

Clementine didn’t miss a beat. “Specific,” she said, and dropped in a candy bar.

“Thankyoubye!” The girl closed the bag as soon as the candy bar hit, was two steps away before she turned back and added, “’Bye, Toto!” She stooped down, ignored the service vest and gave two pats to Trinity’s head before she skipped away, past the tree and over to a woman who’d been waiting patiently under a streetlight, clicking on her phone. The neighborhood was on the classy side, with large homes situated on lots at least an acre wide. Rather than a steady throng of trick-or-treaters, kids moved in groups trained by flashlight beams, chattering in the distance.

“Get in here, birthday girl.” Clementine ushered Tabitha and Trinity inside. “You’re late.” The storm door closed behind them, locking out the night and the far-off cries of kids hyped on adrenaline and sugar.

“Not on purpose or anything.” Tabitha was surrounded by a different sort of energy now: happy women, ready for a Saturday night party. Trinity stood by her side, unbothered, but Tabitha wished she could go back to the tree and hide under its umbrella of branches.

Clementine grinned at the lie. “Not at all like you rushing into the gym seconds before the class starts, every single time.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better.” Six months ago, Tabitha had sat in her car with Trinity, outside the gym, unsure if she’d ever muster the courage to go in.

“This is true.” Clementine patted her arm. Her nails were neither long nor short, neatly manicured and painted a pumpkin orange with a little black spiderweb on her thumb. Tabitha wondered how Clementine managed to keep her nails so pretty when she was slinging weights around the gym three days a week and unpacking cartons in her running shop all day long.

From somewhere in the house, a dog barked. It was yappy, like it came from a little thing.

“That’s Roscoe,” Clementine said, tilting her head toward a stairway that led up. “I put him in the spare room for now. He’s half-blind and wigs out around other dogs. Lily’s latest rescue from the shelter. He was going to be put down today.”

“Aw.” Tabitha frowned. “Poor guy.”

“She’s got someone lined up to adopt him. It’s just going to take another week.” Clementine shrugged, like she’d been through it a million times. “He’ll calm down in a minute.”

“I love your tree.” Tabitha motioned to the front door. “What is it?”

“That—” Clementine gave her blond ponytail a toss “—is a European weeping hornbeam. Tyler planted it when we moved in fifteen years ago. Just a tiny thing back then.” Her voice dropped, a wave of sadness crossing her petite features, then disappearing so fast Tabitha wondered if she’d imagined it.

“The lights and skeletons are so cool.”

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