Present Perfect(4)

He glanced at me out the corner of his eye as he aimed the remote toward the TV, and turned the sound down. Turning to me, he asked, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

Clearing my throat, I looked him straight in the eye. “Please, talk to Mom and tell her to let me be a cowgirl for Halloween.”

“Now Amanda, you know how your mother is once she gets an idea in her head. Besides, from what I can tell, it’s a pretty cool looking costume.”

Sweet baby Jesus, please don’t let insanity run in the family.

“But Daddy, you’ve only seen it laying on the coffee table. It just looks like a pile of feathers.”

“You know, Amanda, you are very lucky that you have a mom who loves you enough to make you a Halloween costume. There are children in China who aren’t that lucky.”

“Do they even have Halloween in China?” I asked.

“I’m sure they do.” His attention headed back to the TV as the volume rose.

I leaned across the arm of the chair, twisting my body so I was looking up, trying to redirect my dad’s attention back on me. “Maybe we could send them my Tweety costume and I could be a cowgirl?”

“That’s a nice idea, but they don’t know who Tweety is in China. They don’t get Sesame Street over there. Now, let me finish watching the news.” His eyes were focused straight ahead.

I pushed off of the armrest and stood. “That’s a different bird, Dad,”

Standing up straight, I stared at him for a few seconds, but he had already lost interest in my problem. I huffed loudly and pursed my lips together before turning and walking away, knowing I had lost another battle.





Halloween day finally arrived. We were allowed to wear our costumes to school for the party that day. That morning when I walked into the family room, I found Mom bent down picking up a pile of feathers that had fallen off my costume. This had become a daily ritual that made me smile and gave me hope. If the feathers didn’t stick, there’d be no chick. Maybe my cowgirl dreams would come true after all.

Clearing my throat, I said, “Mom, would it be okay if I didn’t wear my Tweety costume to school? I don’t want to get it messed up before tonight.”

She placed the armful of feathers on the coffee table, stood up quickly, and turned in my direction, trying to hide the pile of feathers behind her. She didn’t want to admit the fact that Tweety had a serious molting problem. She hesitated for a moment, running her hand behind her neck a couple of times as she glanced back at the pile of feathers.

“Sure, that would be fine. It will give me time to spruce it up a little before tonight. How about you go to school as a cowgirl. You mentioned about being a cowgirl, right?”

Only about one thousand times.





When the time had come to get ready for trick or treating, Mom had secured all the feathers back on the leotard. My cowgirl dreams had been dashed.

The rest of the Tweety costume consisted of an old pair of fuzzy bedroom slippers, spray painted gold for my feet. A few extra feathers were left over, so Mom decided Tweety needed a headband. Then she brought out this sizable jar of greasy neon yellow makeup that I was sure was laden with toxins. It looked like something she had from the 1980’s, when apparently, it was cool to smear your child with poisons. The last bit of humiliation to be added was a handful of glitter that she poured over me, coating my head, arms, and chest. I looked like the love child of Big Bird and Liberace.

The time had come. I tried to delay going outside for as long as possible, waiting for the sun to disappear completely from the sky. I figured darkness would be my friend. It was a warm night, so Emily and I didn’t need to wear our jackets. I was willing to risk a high grade-fever in order to hide this yellow-glitter- incrusted nightmare that I was wearing, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it.

Emily and I always trick or treated together. It was her job to hold my hand, ring the doorbell, and say trick or treat. All I had to do was collect my candy. This year, since she was 10 years old, Emily wanted to go with her friends. Mom made, what I felt was, a very poor parental choice when she allowed Emily to go with her friends instead of staying with me and continuing this sacred family tradition. Didn’t she think of me at all? Didn’t she understand that I would suffer a severe candy deficit, without Emily by my side?

We were standing at the bottom of the Dean’s driveway, I swallowed hard as I watched my sister walk away with her friends to another neighbor’s house.

Mom must have sensed my fear because she drew me in close to her side and whispered, “You can do this, Amanda. You’re a big girl now. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Your sister was five when she started going up to the doors by herself. I’ll be right here.” She let go of my hand and took a step away from me.

I continued to stand there, frozen. I felt abandoned and alone. I hated it. I was terrified of a monster opening one of the doors. I had never seen a monster in our neighborhood, but there was a first time for everything.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t seem to move my fuzzy gold feet. I felt my face getting warm as butterflies took over my stomach. I was so scared to move. My eyes began to sting from the tears that were building up. Although, they could’ve been caused by the poisonous substance that was smeared across my face.

I took in a deep breath as I looked down, trying to find my courage, when I noticed a small pile of yellow feathers that had collected at my feet. My eyes followed the trail all the way back to my house. The street was covered with so many feathers, it looked like the yellow brick road. When I glanced up I couldn’t believe my eyes. Walking towards me was Andrea Morgan dressed in a full Dorothy costume with her little dog too.