Chapter 46: November 1st 1981

I’ve never been a fan of the fall, but this fall has been great. With Melanie living here, I’ve felt the best that I have since coming back. She’s definitely grounded me back into life instead of living as some parallel observer.

Last night was Halloween, and was a huge deal for us. It was Elliot’s first Halloween, so I dressed him like a smurf. It was an easy and comfortable costume for him, and it’s pretty popular this year.

Melanie was Jill Munroe, Farrah Fawcett’s character on Charlie’s Angels. Melanie is beautiful, and there have been moments in private when I’ve thought she looked hot, when it was just for me, but this was the first time I’d seen her go out looking hot. She wasn’t dressed in a way that would get anyone upset, but she was absolutely smoking hot. I had watched reruns of Charlie’s Angels in the mid to late 90’s right around the time I was going through puberty, and Farrah Fawcett had affected me the way she had the previous generation, and seeing Melanie dressed up as her really did it for me.

I told Melanie all of that after we put Elliot to bed. She’d picked out the costume without any knowledge of my boyhood crush. I didn’t tell her about Farrah’s decline and death. I tried to push it out of my mind.

I dressed up like Indiana Jones. It wasn’t too tough of a costume to recreate, and it was timely. I was the only Indiana Jones that we saw that looked like they were wearing a semi-authentic costume. Kids couldn’t afford the leather, and many dads were just putting on leather jackets and a cheap fedora, with jeans.

Apparently, Melanie found my costume as attractive as I found hers.

We took Elliot trick or treating, but mostly we stopped at houses that we knew, so they could see him in his costume. The houses around the neighborhood that we’d become friendly with all gave him a smile and a little candy into his small pillowcase. Then we drove over to Reading to my grandparents’.

We parked a few blocks away and walked, starting to trick or treat with a small crowd of people as we made our way down my grandparents’ street. My grandmother would know what was going on, but it gave us some deniability if we approached with a group.

When we followed a couple with their stumbling toddler up my grandparents’ front walk, both of my grandparents came out.

My grandmother put candy into the pillowcases of the children, and my grandfather told the kids how great their costumes were or weren’t.

When it was our turn at the front, my grandmother feigned surprise—I think she was pretty convincing.

“I know you!” she said to me, pretending to not know Melanie or Elliot. Elliot was the only one not playing along as he smiled for her and put her arms out.

“Oh, I think he likes you,” Melanie said.

“You look familiar, you were…” my grandfather hesitated for a minute, unable to place me, then said, “you’re Scott’s friend.”

It was my turn to fake shock.

“Oh, you’re Maria’s parents!”

He looked at Elliot and smiled, then looked at me and Melanie.

“This the girl you were telling us about at Thanksgiving?”

I nodded and smiled.

“She’s too pretty for you,” he had a charming way of insulting you without it feeling like an insult.

“I know she is, but she doesn’t so ix-nay on the retty-pay.”

He smiled and chuckled.

“This little guy… you babysitting?”

“Carl!” my grandmother scolded. 

It wasn’t the worst direction to go in for someone inquiring about what two white people were doing with a black baby. We were used to worse.

“Kind of. His mother is a friend of ours, and she’s having some trouble, so we’re taking care of this little guy.”

“That’s very nice,” my grandmother said, leading the conversation.

We talked with them a bit while other trick or treaters came. When it was the natural conclusion to the conversation, we continued to trick or treat up the opposite side of the road from which we came.

Once we were out of sight of my grandparents, we walked back to the car. Elliot was asleep in the backseat before we’d pulled out of the parking spot, and Melanie held my hand as I drove. Usually she’d rest her head on my shoulder, but with her Farrah-do, she was afraid of messing it, and kept her head up straight. 

When we got home, I put Elliot to bed, put the candy away, and found that she’d undressed. She was sitting on our bed, with one knee up, and her head tilted back, recreating the famous swimsuit picture without the swimsuit. Her smile was as wide as Farrah’s, and she looked as if she were about to giggle.

“If I’d known you had a thing for her, I would have got a red one-piece.”

“This is just as good,” I said with a laugh.

I’m really happy that she’s living here!