Jane and Joe, who lived in Los Angeles, loved to throw a big Halloween party every year. Although I’d moved away, I found myself back in the City of Angels on Halloween and they insisted I come. Then I remembered Lowell, a college buddy of Joe’s.
“Oh dear, I really don’t want to see Lowell. You know he’s my best friend, Sophie’s, brother and they had a terrible falling out.”
Jane knew about their conflicts. In a show of heartfelt loyalty to me, Jane declared Lowell would not be invited because they wanted me there. I deeply appreciated her gesture.
Lowell and I had been colleagues at work for twenty-five years, so I knew him well. I’d always felt friendly towards him but held myself a bit distant because something about him felt a little off. I’d never analyzed it. When their parents recently died, Lowell pulled some underhanded maneuvers with the inheritance that blindsided Sophie. Sadly, they had become estranged. It would be awkward for me to see him.
On Halloween, I threw myself into the spirit of the party and dressed as a ladybug, from red toes to polka-dotted dress to tall antennae bobbing on my head. I painted my nose with a black circle and drew dots on each cheek. I waltzed into the party in full ladybug glory. I greeted Jan and Joe and then looked around, but didn’t recognize anyone.
All at once, a man stepped toward me, his face lit up with a smile as if he was about to give me a warm greeting. Dressed in a Walmart Halloween sweatshirt with a pumpkin’s head on it, I assumed this stranger had recognized someone behind me. My eyes passed over him with a blank look as I continued to stride toward the drink table set up on the patio. I took three full steps before I realized Mr. Pumpkin Head was Lowell. I’d been so convinced that he wouldn’t be there, I blocked any other possibility. He probably thought I had purposely shunned him.
At the drinks table, I stumbled, confused and upset. Jane came to my side, having just seen Lowell. She explained that Joe had mistakenly mentioned the party to Lowell. She apologized to me. I said I understood but felt very uncomfortable. “Honestly, Jane, I think I should leave,” I said, the black dot on my nose twitching. Jane knew that Lowell had been spreading mean rumors, accusing his sister of mental incompetence. He seemed to want to wrest control over her part of the inheritance by convincing key people of her ineptitude. His accusations were bizarre.
“No, no,” Jane begged, “please stay and enjoy the party.”
I wanted to please my friend who I hadn’t seen in ten years. I straightened my polka-dotted shoulders and pulled my head up, antennae making me well over six feet tall. I smiled. I would be a brave ladybug. “You’re right, Jane. I’ll stay. It’s time for some fun.”
In reality, I couldn’t avoid stress. In a cat and mouse type of game, I kept track of Lowell’s location and made sure I stayed on the opposite side of the room. We ate dinner outside in the yard, lit with orange lights, shining over fake tombstones, just enough illumination for me to make sure I sat as far from Lowell as possible.
I made bright conversation with a table full of strangers, a jolly ladybug. Inside, I dreaded that Lowell would try to corner me and lob his upsetting accusations about Sophie at me.
Adding to the strange situation, a woman at my table told me her name was Laura and she’d known me twenty-five years ago. In her middle-aged and overweight incarnation, I barely recognized her. However, once I focused on her expressive green eyes, I remembered her with delight. She had been a beautiful young woman in a wholesome country-girl way. She was a few years younger than me, on the fringes of my social group in the past. I liked her then but hadn’t known her very well. When her husband turned to talk to the man beside him, she cupped her hands around her mouth as if to shield her words from her mate. “I remember Jed,” she said.
“Oh yes, of course,” I said. I lived with Jed for five years in LA. He had been a tech nerd of local repute at the time, the center of our group of Pasadena Jet Propulsion Laboratory friends. She had come to a few get-togethers as a friend of a friend during the years Jeb and I were together.
In a syrupy tone of voice, she said, “I don’t think you ever knew that, you know…” She giggled and cast her eyes sideways at me, “…that July when you two broke up, we, umm…Jed and I… we got together.” With a victorious smile, she sounded proud.
After five tumultuous years together, I had a rocky breakup with Jed. Although it was twenty years ago, I felt upset that Laura bragged about an event that had hurt me very much at the time. I stared at Laura, my stomach jittery. She seemed to enjoy having preempted me. I tossed off a casual, “Well, that’s very old news now, isn’t it?”, a carefree ladybug.
Glancing around to make sure Lowell was at a distance, I felt this Halloween party had become too weird for me. I said polite goodbyes to Laura and her husband, tipping my antenna towards them, disappointed that I wouldn’t be renewing a friendship with her. Feeling like a cowardly ladybug, I thanked my hosts and beat a path to the door.
Halloween was supposed to be creepy; by this standard, Jane and Joe’s party outdid itself. It was one of the most disturbing gatherings I’d ever been to. Normally, I took pride in open and honest communication. However, for those few hours, a bug who just wanted to have fun found herself in subterfuge, an unnerving experience.
I drove home, a ladybug at the wheel. As I thought more about the night, I felt more positive. I successfully avoided Lowell the whole time. My prolonged stay at the party might have let him know that I refused to be intimidated by him.
I never saw Lowell again. He didn’t succeed in proving Sophie legally incompetent, and the two remained permanently at odds. I’m glad that his last vision of me was as a light-hearted ladybug, someone who would not dignify his untruths with her time.
I loved being a cheerful, red and black dotted insect. Sometimes, I saw my costume hanging unworn in the back of my closet, ready to brave another Halloween, if I dared.
Real Life – Real Laughs:
Humor When You Need It Most
Cate Burns’ thirty-eight non-fiction stories of heartfelt humor explore society’s foibles and personal snafus with insightful zingers that will delight readers. Burns casts an unstinting, cock-eyed look at personal change, friendship, sanity and courage.
“Absolutely LOVE the descriptions in this work. Very, very, very clever and, dare I say it? -unique. This is refreshing, funny, inventive and delightful.” -Sharon Whitehill, Ph. D.
