My Dad’s Mask

My dad’s favorite holiday was Halloween which was strange because he didn’t seem like the type. For eleven months out of the year he was a total cotton puff. He’d scream when he saw a spider in the house but starting on October 1st he was all about witches and goblins. I can still remember my dad sitting at the table year after year with many stout pumpkins in front of him. He’d saw off the tops and scoop out the wet insides and throw the slop on old newspapers. He’d take his long pumpkin-carving knife and cut out the traditional triangle eyes, noses, and the jigsaw grins. Dad put thick white candles inside each jack-o-lantern and the cold wind outside made the crude faces shiver in the shadows.

Every year we had the best decorated house on the block. With so many ornaments about and orange lights strung up the yard was more extravagant and grand than the same old artificial tree he put up each Christmas. Dad took me trick or treating every year he always wore the same old boogeyman mask. A cheap, plastic thing that couldn’t have cost more than $5 at the drug store. It had one of those little strings on the back and dad had to tape it back on a few times. The mask was green and had a bulbous nose; thick black eyebrows were painted on above two little eye holes and the mouth was a red frown.

Dad loved Halloween so much that I couldn’t help but love it too. He made it so much fun. We’d come home after trick or treating and he would let me stay up late and together we’d eat candy and watch monster movies on the couch. I’d pass out from too much candy and he’d carry me to my room and I would wake up the next morning still in my costume. The day after Halloween dad would take down all the decorations and pack them away until next year and he would return to his cotton puff way.

Dad would be distant too, even around Christmas. He would put on a smile and go through the motions but I could see in his eyes he had lost his light. His step was a little slower and his voice was a little softer. It felt like I only had my dad for one month a year and after so many years of this I grew to resent him for it. I was born just ten days before Halloween and the day I turned 11 I told my dad I didn’t want to go trick or treating anymore.

My dad just looked at me at first, speechless and stone faced. We were sitting at the table and he was carving another jack o lantern. He put his knife down and said, “But why, son? You love trick or treating.”

“My friends are gonna play video games all night and since it’s a Friday I wanna spend the night there.”

Dad’s eyes started to get wet and he was doing that familiar whimpering he would do when he was about to cry. Finally he muttered, “Ok, son. You don’t have to.” He put his face in his hands which were stained orange from the pumpkin guts; pumpkin seeds were stuck to his knuckles. Even though I had come to hate Halloween I hated even more seeing him so upset. This was the only time of the year he ever felt happy and I didn’t want to take it away from him. Later that night I told him I could play with my friends on another night and I would go trick o treating with him.

On the evening of Halloween I put on the scarecrow costume my dad got me. He put on that green boogeyman mask and we walked past all the jack o lanterns in our yard and crept down the street, going door to door, my bag filling with candy and my dad right behind me. My dad was so excited and I couldn’t help but feel happy for him. We had started early, even before the sun went down. We hit every house on our street and then we went to the next street, and cleared it just the same. Then we went to the next street over and by the time the sun had died and the moon had been resurrected we had covered the whole block and my bag was full with candy, but my dad said we should keep going. I told him my bag was heavy and but he said from behind that thin mask in a breathy voice, “Ha ha, don’t worry, I brought another.” He took my full bag and gave me an empty one.

“I’m tired,” I said. “My feet hurt.”

“Oh come on, it’s not so bad. Don’t you wanna be the kid with the most candy?”

“How much longer?”

Dad stared at me through the little eye holes. Shadows covered the mask so I couldn’t see his eyes; only saw those little holes and the bulbous nose and the thick black brows and the red frown. He crouched and came to me face to face and grabbed me by the shoulder.

“Now look, you’ve been acting like a little brat all night. I brought you out here to have a good time and you’re just pissing it away! I’m sick of it. You are going to stop all this whining and act like you’re supposed to.”

He didn’t give me a chance to respond. He pushed me forward still clutching my shoulder and we marched to the next house where he angrily rapped upon the door. The door opened and there stood an old man.

“Sorry, folks, we’re all out of candy,” he said with a smile. “I forgot to turn off the porch light. You folks have a good night.”

He started to close the door but dad put his hand up and kept it open.

“It’s bad luck not to give a trick or treater candy, don’t you know?”

“Well at my age you don’t have much use for luck. Everyday my back hurts but what can you do? That’s why you should stay young, little scarecrow.” He smiled at me. “Now if you’ll let go of the door I’d like to go to bed.” Dad slowly let his hand fall and the door was shut. We heard the deadbolt latch.

We walked off the man’s porch and stood in the beam of a streetlight on the sidewalk. My dad looked up and down the street for more houses but there weren’t any other trick or treaters out and the houses were all dark with the lights turned off.

“Dad, can we go?”

Dad looked at me, then down the street, and finally his head slumped forward to the ground.

“Ok,” he said, defeated. He took the mask off and held it in his hands, each still face staring back at each other. Suddenly he threw it at the old man’s house, but the pathetic thing didn’t make it far and it fell face down in the grass.

We got home and dad went to the couch with the full candy bag and turned on the TV to the monster movie channel and said, “Take a seat, sport.”

“Nah, I’m gonna go to sleep.“

I left dad sitting in the glow of the TV and went upstairs. I took off my costume and laid down in bed. I fell asleep to the sound of old monsters moaning and candy wrappers rustling. Dad took the Halloween decorations down the next day and never put them back up; he packed them away in cardboard boxes in the corner of the garage and left them to rot. My dad took great care of me for all my life, but I never saw him truly happy ever again.