by Jack Wallen
He nearly spat out a mouthful of beer. “It wouldn’t matter if you were, Son. The only thing that does matter is that you are happy, healthy, and making good decisions.”
“I know, Dad. Trust me, if I were, I would tell you. I’m not. With me and Sally…it’s complicated. I think, well, I know too much about her. We’ve been around each other for so long…this is going to sound crazy…there’s no mystery left.”
Dad nodded. “Now that I get. Wow, Scotty, you might well be the wisest teenager in the history of teenagers. If only I understood half of what you do when I was your age…” He drifted off. “Who am I kidding? I would have made the exact same choices.”
We laughed. It felt as good as it always did. There was never a time I wasn’t happy to be close to my dad. I guess it helped to have the cool parents. If only it would keep me from being the butt of everyone’s jokes.
The sun was just starting to disappear over the rooftops. There was precious little light to be had. Dad and I rushed to get Big Daddy secured. There’d been plenty of vandalism and theft in the neighborhood over the past years, so major props and scenes had to be locked down tight or weigh a ton. Some of the neighbors left flood lights on to keep the shadows at bay. No shadows, no thieves. Of course, Dad took no chances. Once the decorations started coming out, a special alarm system was put in place. Should anyone step foot onto the yard, strobe lights would go off (to aid in the taking of pictures) and a recording of Judas Priest’s Some Heads Are Gonna Roll would blare at about one hundred and ten decibels. The first time the alarm system went off, we thought the entire neighborhood would send the police after us. When everyone realized how much security the system offered, they quickly backed down.
Judas Priest. My dad is that cool.
four | Gaultier House present and prepared
Timely handed Babbette the torn and stained lace curtain.
“Oh, I’ve always loved this piece. It reminds me of the old country. Do you remember when mother made this lace?”
“Babbette,” started Timely, “why must you remain so fettered to the past? It’s been well over a century. Live in the now.”
Timely smiled, her smooth, emerald skin radiated an eternal youth only kindred knew. Like all female ‘Kind – as the younger generation preferred – the flesh of Timely’s face was as smooth as marble and as soft as down. Her large, round, golden eyes looked to her dearest friend, Babbette, knowing she’d pushed the tiniest of buttons.
Babbette hung the curtain with a most delicate hand. Once the lace was perfectly in place, she turned to Timely, the corners of her full lips turned downward, her green skin equally as perfect and prized.
“Timely, I don’t know how I feel about this world. It moves too fast and experiences so little joy.” A glint of light danced off Babbette’s almond-shaped eyes.
Timely harrumphed and plopped down on the old, overstuffed sofa. A cloud of dust filled the air around them. She twisted her fingers into the fringe of her pixie haircut. “Come on, Babbette; live. Life is far too long to spend it afraid of moving forward. If you keep living in the past, you’ll never know the present and the present is pretty wonderful. Have you seen the boys lately? They are so cute.”
Babbette checked the spring load on the entryway trap door. “I find them vulgar. Boys move too fast now. They think they can win over any girl with their shaggy hair, their apathy, their warty gray-green skin, and their fast hands.”
Timely grinned wide. “Yeah, isn’t it swell?”
“Not one bit. It’s repugnant.”
“Babette,” Timely said. “You have to stop speaking as if you’re still in the eighteen hundreds. If you don’t embrace now, you’ll be discovered. Remember what happened the last time we were nearly caught, without our human masks, speaking the old tongue? We had to relocate…again.”
Babette shooed her friend away and walked over to a wall that held an enormous painting of her father, Gorman Gaultier. Ever the patriarch, Gorman had a jawline that could snap timber and eyes as gold as sunshine. She checked the eye shades to make sure the clockwork movement was in working order. The shades were such a simple way to not only allow someone to carefully watch whatever happened in the scene, but allow for the eyes in the painting to ‘follow your every move’.
“My vocabulary is not going to get us caught. Besides, who would hear it? The only time a mortal ever steps foot around Tyler’s End is Halloween – the one time of year we don’t have to wear our masks and can speak as we please. They assume its all part of the show.”
Babbette sighed, spun, and flopped onto a nearby Victorian chair. “I hate wearing those masks.”
“At least yours is beautiful…I mean, for a human. With your red hair it always reminds me of that actress from that TV show.”
“That narrows it down,” joked Babbette.
“You know, the one with big…” Timely presented her hands before her chest.
“You mean Christina Hendricks?”
Timely squealed. “That’s the one. Your human mask makes me think of her, only younger…and prettier.”
Babbette smiled. “Timely Chance, you do have a way of making me feel better.”
“That’s my job, Babbette Gaultier.”
Babbette dropped onto an ottoman, sighed, and stared at her best friend.
Timely spun around and sat up straight, staring at Babbette. “What is it,” Timely asked. “I know that sigh. It’s a boy,” she said, her face riddled with excitement. “Who is he?”
Babette rolled her eyes. “It’s not always about a boy.”
“Yes it is,” Timely insisted. “Always. Everything is always about a boy. What else is there to teenage girls, besides boys?”
“Okay, it’s not so much about a specific boy as it is a lack of a specific boy.”
Timely tilted her head like a confused puppy. “I don’t understand.”
“There’s not a single Kindred boy that I find even remotely interesting. They’re all so…shallow and, I don’t know…the same.”
“Yes,” Timely cut in. “But there’s something to be said about that predictability. And I hate it when you use that formal word, ‘Kindred’. We’re ‘Kind. It’s more fitting, don’t ya think?”
Babbette snapped to a stand. “Yes, there is something to be said about predictability – it’s boring. I need more than that. Besides, none of them know how to treat girls. They’re all so rough and cruel. I want someone sensitive, who understands the world and knows how to make me feel…like I’m something remarkable. The Neanderthal ‘Kind trying to pass themselves off as mates are all so impossible to be around. Not only that, but they stink!”
Timely laughed. “That’s just the change. They can’t help it. They’ll get through that and the smell will go away. Besides, Skorsdan is a cutie.” She stared hard at her friend. “Wait, there’s something you’re not telling me. What is it Babbette?”
“Skorsdan is rough with me. He tried to kiss me the other day; when I brushed him aside, he grabbed my arm. It left marks.” Babette rolled up her shirtsleeve to reveal the deep purple and yellow mark left behind by Skorsdan’s too-tight grip. She looked down at the floor and gathered her thoughts. “If father found out, he would kill Skorsdan. I just want him to leave me alone…not die.”
Timely knelt at Babbette’s side. “Babbette, you needn’t worry about such things. You are a cherished gift among the ‘Kind. Not one hair on your precious body would ever be harmed without serious repercussions. Skorsdan wouldn’t dare hurt you.”
“He did, Timely.” Babbette lifted her arm once again. “The proof stands before you.”
Timely rolled Babbette’s sleeve back down as she spoke in a hushed whisper. “Babby, you cannot tell anyone of this. If you do, it will surely get back to Gorman and the whole of Tyler’s End will suffer. I will have a talk with Skorsdan to put him back in his place.”
Babbette took in a deep breath. Before she could offer her first word of complaint, Gorman Gaultier entered th
e room with a thunderous roar. The two girls dashed to the shadows in an attempt to stow away in fear.
“I smell…” Gaultier took in a great sniff. “I smell…delicious children. I haven’t made a pie in a very long time. It’s time I rectified that.”
Gorman released another roar. Babbette and Timely shrieked.
Laughter spilled from Gorman’s mouth. “I knew I would find you here.”
Babbette slipped from out of hiding and raced to her father’s side. As soon as she reached him, her arms wrapped around his belly and squeezed.
“Oh father, you could scare ten lives from a cat.”
“My dearest darling, you could bring a smile to the meanest misanthrope,” said Gorman. Again he inhaled deeply. “There is another stench in the air; this one not as sweet. The stink is bitter, with a slight hint of rancor and vermouth.”
“Vermouth,” Timely’s squeaky voice bubbled up from the darkness. “Is that how you think of me, Mr. Gaultier?”
Gaultier released a chuckle large enough to fill the room.
“I have no idea what I meant, young lady. It was the first thing that came to mind.”
“The last person to describe me said I was effervescent and untamable, like the ocean.”
Gaultier swept Timely up into his arms and held her aloft. “Well that would be one very smart boy.”
“How do you know it was a boy?” Timely grinned.
“My girl, there is nothing about the ‘Kind that I do not know. I am the keeper of secrets and the knower of knowledge. Nothing sneaks beyond my sight, including your wit and your charm.”
Babbette tossed a worried glance toward Timely. Timely shook her head and held her hands downward as if to say ‘stay calm.’
Gorman began a slow pace around the room. “Is your area complete, girls? The night of nights is upon us and we must be ready. It’s time to let go our masks and enjoy life as it should be – free of charades and the trappings of fear. For one night, and one night only, we walk among them as we were meant to. The world will gaze upon us and revel in our misshapen and grotesque forms.”
Babbette slapped Gorman lightly on the arm. “Father, how can you say such things?”
“My dearest girl, what has gotten into you? I would never do anything to jeopardize the security of the ‘Kind. You know this. I have navigated the waters of humanity with a gentle and cautious oar. You cannot think I would put us in the way of danger. This has been our tradition since we came to this country. It is our one moment to celebrate who and what we are without concern.”
Babbette pulled away from Gorman and stared up into his joyous, bright eyes. She offered Gaultier a smile that immediately lit up the room.
Timely stood beside Babbette to address Gorman. “I believe your daughter reprimanded you for calling us grotesque.”
Gorman Gaultier’s chest puffed up and his eyes bulged. The two girls recognized the one look that preceded rage in the leader of the ‘Kind. Together, the girls retreated to find some semblance of safety. Before either could tuck behind a tapestry or curtain, Gorman released a wall-shaking laugh.
“How could I possibly stay mad at this adorable face?” Gaultier reached out and grabbed Timely by the jaw and tilted her gaze up toward him. “Timely, I have known you since first the Clock of Ages sang its mysterious song. Together we have traveled the world, during which time you have become like a daughter to me.” Gorman turned to his daughter. “Babette, you were most correct in pointing out my grievous error. We ‘Kind are not grotesque or hideous. There is much beauty to be found in our misshapen countenance.”
Gaultier ripped the mask from his face, to reveal the gray-green, pitted and pocked flesh beneath. His now sunken, blood-red eyes held a grace only another ‘Kind could see.
“Am I not the most handsome man you have ever gazed upon?”
Babbette and Timely released a chorus of laughter that bounced off the walls of the room.
“You are, Father,” said Babbette. “The most handsome gentleman in all the world.”
“I don’t know,” offered Timely. “I believe I heard you saying something about a boy the other day.”
“What,” roared Gorman. “Babette, is there something you’re not telling your father?”
Babette nervously shook her head. “No, Father. I’ve told you everything. There’s nothing and no one.”
Timely stepped between the two, her hands waving in the air toward Gorman.
“Kidding! So kidding. You have no worries, Sir Gaultier; your daughter is as pure of mind as she is of heart.”
A silence befell the room; the three stared at one another for a long moment. Each burst into gales of laughter. Gorman struck his thigh with his hand. Both Babette and Timely fell to the sofa in a dusty whoosh of giggles.
Gorman pulled himself from the laugh riot. “Okay, young ladies, it’s time to get serious. The house opens tomorrow for the Halloween season. This place must be in perfect working order immediately and the spooks and ghouls well-rehearsed.
Babette and Timely stood sharp and offered a traditional ‘Kind salute.
“Yes, Sir.” Both voices were in perfect unison.
Gorman started to leave the room, but turned before he could disappear back into the shadows.
“Oh, and Timely, have you rehearsed your introductory speech?”
Timely’s eyes shifted to Gorman and then to Babette, in desperate search of an answer.
“Babette,” Gorman refused to let go of the situation. “This is a simple ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ answer. Either you have or you…”
“Haven’t.” Timely responded abruptly. “But I promise I will have it put to memory before it’s ever needed.”
Gorman smiled and winked at Timely. “Someday, ladies. Someday, our race will walk among the living without looking out of place.”
With a slight bow, Gorman Gaultier disappeared. Babbette turned to Timely, her eyes wide and her lips pursed.
“Timely, you must never even hint at a boy around my father. He would come undone with anger.”
Timely tossed her head back and released a sigh. “Babbette, your father is eventually going to have to accept the fact that you are no longer a little girl. At some point, boys are going to factor into the equation…whether he likes it or not.”
“Or not,” said Babbette.
Timely pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket.
“What’s that?”
Timely grinned and shook her head. “Don’t worry, it’s not a note to you from an ickle boy which I plan on giving to your father.”
Babbette rushed to Timely and snatched the paper from her hands.
“Oh, you…it’s just your speech.”
Timely danced around Babbette, her sing-song laugh followed in a swirl of joy.
“You are such an easy bear to poke, Babbette Gaultier. Easy peasy, sang Louisey, while she ate radish pie. She said with a grin, as she wiped her chin, ‘I’d rather kiss ‘Kind than die’. Let me have my speech back.” Timely grabbed at the paper and just missed as Babbette yanked it from her reach. “Babbette…hand me back my speech. If I don’t memorize it by tomorrow, your father will rip me to pieces.”
Babbette laughed. “Who’s the easy bear now?”
Timely jumped and, as she reached for the paper, froze in place – her eyes, locked onto Babbette’s. The two girls stared hard at one another, unsure of what was happening. The moment was brief and Timely dropped hard to the room’s floor.
“Timely,” Babbette cried out. “Are you okay?”
There was no reply.
“Oh, my goodness.” Babbette knelt by her friend’s side. “Please answer me.”
Almost imperceptibly, Timely’s head nodded. She finally whispered, “I’m okay.”
Babbette reached a hand out to Timely. “What happened?”
When Timely was on her feet, she stared hard at Babbette. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
Timely smiled at Babbet
te and pulled her into a hug. “You’re going through the change, Babbette.”
“What change?”
“You know how boys our age start to emit the smell of sour eggs? Girls our age begin to manifest certain powers. It’s random and the power is usually weak. Sometimes the power fades. Other times…” Timely drifted off. “Has Gorman not given you ‘the talk’?
“What talk?”
“Hoo boy,” sighed Timely. “You have a lot to learn, Babbette.”
five | of breakfast and bullies
My mom and dad had a thing about breakfast. Actually, it was more like an obsession. For most kids my age, breakfast came from shiny silver packets and had more unpronounceable ingredients than a pharmaceutical lab. Not at the Maskey house. My mom and dad insisted the day start out together and with a full English style breakfast. I never really complained about it, mostly because my mom worked magic in the kitchen.
Sally often sneaked into the house to join. Her presence was not only welcome, it was encouraged. I knew where my parents were going with that….transparent, those two.
Newspapers and internet were not allowed at the kitchen table. Oddly enough, I found some out of place comfort in that. Not being able to stick my nose in my phone meant I had to talk. Unlike most teenagers, I enjoyed talking with my parents; our table talks were the stuff of legends.
As mom passed around a plate of sausages, dad took the spotlight. “So this young woman comes into the shop yesterday. I was finishing up my last appointment and she demanded I do a consultation. I tell her it’ll be a few minutes and she throws a fit. Little princess, it seems, is not used to being told ‘no’. While I’m trying to do the last bit of shading on this rather large man’s back piece, this petite little east-end, rich blond steps into my station, unzips her dress, lets it fall to the floor, and insists I tell her that the boy’s name on her stomach can be covered.”
Mom’s eyes bugged and her lower jaw nearly hit the table on the way to the floor.
Dad pointed to mom and said, “That was my exact reaction.”
