Nothing to Wear

Skeletons hung from doors, pumpkins lined the stoops and windows of every brownstone, fake spiderwebs clung to gates, and Fifth Avenue between Ninety-Sixth Street and 103rd Street was plastered with flyers for the Toddler Parade that took place every year the night before Halloween. Veronica didn’t want to be reminded. Halloween was nine days away, and she had no inspiration this year for a costume. And to make matters worse, she didn’t know if she had anyone to trick-or-treat with.

She came home from school, hugged Mary, cuddled Cadbury, and changed into jeans. She tossed her white blouse in the hamper and hung her Randolf skirt next to the other six in her closet. It wasn’t dirty. She could wear it again. Last summer, these same uniforms had terrified her. They swung from their hangers and made Veronica think of dead bodies. Now they were harmless. Time certainly changed things.

She took her keys, four plastic bags, and Cadbury up to the tenth floor. When the elevator opened Veronica could hear Fitzy’s cries of excitement. She unlocked the Fergusons’ door and Cadbury jumped up and down. Fitzy ran a circle around Cadbury and rolled over on her back. Dogs expressed delight without a trace of self-consciousness.

“You two love each other so much,” Veronica said. “I wish I could just get you married already.” Fitzy’s dark brown eyes looked up in agreement. Veronica imagined them in miniature wedding attire. Great, Veronica thought, I can come up with Halloween costumes for dogs but I still have nothing to wear. She clipped Fitzy’s leash to her rhinestone collar and took the loving couple downstairs. Two handymen were arranging a cornucopia of gourds and witches’ brooms on the table in front of the elevator. They smiled at Veronica.

“Almost time for Halloween!” one of them said. Oh brother. You couldn’t hide from your troubles if your life depended on it. Veronica tried to smile.

Fitzy and Cadbury made a beeline for a tree. But they rarely took care of business right away. First they squatted, stood up, and paced back and forth before deciding where exactly, on a one-foot-by-one-foot patch of dirt, they were going to leave their mark. This was a ritual they had to perform. Why did they do that? There was obviously a lot she didn’t know about being a dog.

When the dogs did actually poop, Veronica realized that she had forgotten the poop bags at the Fergusons’. She hunted near the benches, frantic for something to clean up with. A nice lady gave her the business section of her newspaper to use.

“It’s very impressive,” she told Veronica, “the way you clean up after them. Good for you.” Veronica’s mood lifted a little in spite of herself.

She let the dogs lead her around while they sniffed the trunks of trees, identifying other dogs’ scents and lord knows what else. Cadbury liked to smell trees like this: he followed a scent from the ground up and then back down again, sometimes lingering over a particular spot as if he were sniffing a fine bottle of wine, enjoying a good piece of music, or reading a book and pausing to reread a particularly beautiful sentence. Veronica stood behind him, beaming like a proud mother. He found an old piece of cardboard, which he appreciated like an expensive cut of beef. Cadbury would eat anything if you let him. He’d probably eat all her Halloween candy if she wasn’t careful.

She had to admit she loved the candy part of Halloween. But coming up with good costumes, year after year, was too much. Maybe I’ll just dress up as a girl who hates Halloween, she thought.

“Cadbury, do you think I could just go as a surly eleven-year-old? Fitzy, what if I did that? Would people close the door in my face and not give me any candy because they didn’t think I put enough effort into my costume?”

Her companions were not the least bit interested. No one understood the predicament she was in! Athena had actually mentioned trick-or-treating, but only once, and Veronica was afraid she would forget. Athena and Sarah-Lisa talked about all kinds of things, like Veronica belonging to the A Team, but nothing official ever happened. She was sure it would be the same with Halloween. Melody had talked about trick-or-treating too, but her mother had a million problems with everything.

The dogs pooped again. This time Veronica had to rip down a parade flyer to clean up with. The little drawings of children’s costumes reminded her of her first Toddler Halloween Parade. She’d been a cat. Her mother had used a glue gun and even though she’d burned herself repeatedly, Marion Morgan had created a masterpiece out of orange and white feather boas. The costume was so stiff and heavy from the gallons of dried glue that it didn’t bend at all. Mary held the neck open and both her parents lowered her in. Veronica could barely walk down Fifth Avenue. But it was the best costume she’d ever had. Her mother had never done anything like it before or since. Veronica hated growing up and being responsible for her own costumes. She’d won first prize that year.

She threw the poopy poster in a garbage can on the corner of 103rd Street. Ugh. Halloween had pretty much gone downhill ever since.