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“Hey, Chris? Any ideas for Halloween this year?” Eddie waits for his son to look up from his slice of pizza before he continues. “It’s three weeks out, so we need to start thinking, especially if you want something homemade again this year.”
“I dunno, Dad.” He shrugs and takes another bite, speaking around a mouthful of cheese and sauce. “I’ll think ‘bout it.”
“What about a skeleton?” Eddie prods, knowing that if he doesn’t get Chris narrowing down a plan now, he won’t make a costume decision until Thanksgiving. “Superman? A cowboy? One of those … the little dudes from the video game you like?”
He’s pretty sure they could pull those off. The video game character might be harder, but with the right arrangement of cardboard boxes and paint, he thinks they could manage.
And if not, there’s always the costume store.
Chris stares at him, tapping his chin with two fingers, deep in thought.
“Can I be Phineas Gage?” His lips purse, like he’s not asking for permission, but trying to figure out if it would be possible.
Unfortunately, other than telling Chris that he can be what or whomever he wants to be, Eddie is no help on this one.
“Who?” He feels his eyes narrow as he tries to wrack his brain for whatever character Chris might be asking about.
“Phineas Gage,” he repeats, as if hearing the name again is going to clear it up for Eddie. “Buck told me about him. He worked for a railroad until he got a rod in his skull. But he didn’t die!”
There's no denying the excitement building in Chris’ voice, so even if Eddie still doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to, he can’t bring himself to say no. So he smiles and nods, tells Chris that he thinks it’s a great idea and sends him down the hall to work on his language arts homework while Eddie cleans up the kitchen.
As soon as he hears Chris’ door squeak open, he drops his head into his hands and sighs. Now he has to not only learn about Phineas Gage, but also figure out how to make a recognizable Halloween costume?
How in the hell is he going to pull this off?
He’s only got one idea, so he sits up and reaches for his phone.
“Eddie? What’s up?” Buck’s voice is tinny in Eddie’s ear, like he’s several feet away on speakerphone.
“Who’s Phineas Gage, why does Chris know about him, and how am I supposed to make this into a Halloween costume?”
He wastes no time with pleasantries, knowing that he and Buck have been chatting most of the day anyway. There are questions to answer, and Eddie has a feeling he’ll need all the time he can get to figure this one out.
“The railroad guy,” Buck answers, like that clears everything up.
“Sure, because that clears everything up.”
“C’mon, Eddie, seriously?” Buck sighs. “I’ll send you the article, but he took a tamping rod through the brain and survived. Surprise lobotomy, basically. Became an example for the psychology of personalities. And for the costume … how big is his head?”
“How big is …"
“His head, Eddie. Like for a hat."
“I’ll … have to measure.”
Eddie sends the number to Buck a few hours later, and doesn’t worry about the costume again for two weeks, until Halloween night. He’d let Buck pick Chris up after school one day to try everything on, but apparently his son had refused any pictures until Eddie could see the whole costume in person.
Which brought him to now, adjusting the red satin sash tied around his own waist, the final detail on his pirate costume. He tugs at his striped tank top, pulling it over the top of his jeans, and watches Buck flip through the pages on his clipboard.
He’s wearing slim-fitting dress slacks and a checkered button down, the buttons pulled tight across his chest like they might give at any second. There’s a navy blue tie around the collar, and a stethoscope draped across his neck. The clipboard in his hands holds a set of X-rays, a shattered tibia and fibula held together with an assortment of screws and pins.
Anyone else would probably guess that he’d printed the image off of Google, but Eddie knows exactly what name is printed in the corner, tiny white letters stark against the shadows, and just how close that bone had come to being replaced by a metal rod to hold his best friend’s leg together.
The personal touch is what makes Buck’s costume a step above the rest. Surely he won’t be the only ER doctor trick-or-treating tonight, but he’s probably the only one holding a slice of his own trauma in his hands.
And, to top it off, he almost coordinates with Chris’ costume. The eras are a little off, as Eddie had learned when his email inbox had pinged with a Wikipedia link about Phineas Gage, but Chris is fiddling with a bow tie the same shade of blue as Buck’s necktie, trying to get the button to cooperate.
Buck sees his struggle and drops to a knee to reach out and help him, his fingers deftly sipping the button through its hole and straightening the material.
“There we go,” he announces, smoothing a hand down the front of Chris’ sportscoat. “Alright, now all we need is the other piece. Eddie?”
He reaches for the headband Buck had dropped on the couch as soon as he’d walked in the door. Before Eddie hands it over, though, he turns it back and forth in his hands, trying to figure out how it’s going to fit on Chris’ head. He’d sent Buck the measurement he’d asked for – and then three others, fitting it across every dimension of his son’s face, but he can’t see any way this contraption is going to complete the costume.
He passes it to Buck, then steps back to watch as he expertly positions the thin wire behind one of Chris’ ears, fiddling with his curls until it’s almost completely hidden from view. There are two narrow screws sticking out, one down by his jaw and the other from the top of his head, and Buck carefully screws long wooden dowels onto each of them. There’s a gentle taper on the top dowel, and they’re both textured and painted to look like iron.
Buck adjusts the bend of the wire until the dowels are perfectly positioned, then sits back on his heels to admire his handiwork. Eddie has to admit, it’s pretty convincing, especially when Buck pulls a little jar from his pocket and uses his finger to dab some of the contents around Chris’ chin. It’s dark red and sticky, and reminds Eddie almost too much of the pageant mom with the high heel in her cheek his second week on the job.
“That’s … incredible,” Eddie waits for Buck to turn around before he continues. “It’s not … real blood, is it?”
“Of course not!” Buck laughs. “It’s corn syrup and food dye, Eds. Don’t worry, nothing toxic.” He grins and pops his finger in his mouth as he stands up, licking the fake blood before he can smear it anywhere else.
Eddie looks down at Chris, who’s grinning ear to ear, and his heart soars. It’s far from a conventional costume, but Chris is far from a conventional kid, so he supposes that it’s fitting.
Besides, with a smile like that on his face, how could anybody deny that this is the perfect costume?
“Looks great, kiddo. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you really had been skewered.”
“Really?!” He beams and Eddie laughs; only his kid would think it’s a compliment that he looks like he’s got a rod through his skull.
“Really. Ready to head out?”
Chris nods eagerly, the end of the dowel protruding from his cheek bobbing up and down with the motion. Eddie stifles a laugh, determined to be enthusiastic and supportive of Chris’ excitement and pulls the front door open.
He’s not surprised, though, when the costume gets odd looks from other trick or treaters, ranging from confused to horrified. Chris is too caught up in the festivities to notice, and only a few people are brave enough to approach him and ask outright.
Eddie imagines it has to be a parenting win, the way his kid is so unfazed by the comments he gets. He just smiles and proudly announces that he’s Phineas Gage, then launches into a detailed explanation of his historical significance, without any worry that people might not like his costume as much as he does.
He wonders if he shouldn’t be a little worried about just how much knowledge Chris is regurgitating, but he’d be lying if he didn’t think it’s a little funny to watch him announce himself to the old woman who’d sneered when he held out his candy bag.
“And what are you supposed to be?” She’d asked, clearly perturbed that he hadn’t picked something more recognizable.
“I’m Phineas Gage!” Eddie’s holding his breath, hoping that Chris can keep up his happy-go-lucky attitude, even as she’s more aggressive about his costume than anyone else has been tonight. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice her tone. “I’ve been impaled! Like Olaf!”
At that, Eddie winces. While Chris isn’t wrong, he sounds entirely too gleeful about it. And to turn it into a Frozen reference?
Well, he is still a grade schooler.
When Eddie tunes back in, Chris is already plowing ahead, inundating the poor woman with every detail he knows. He thinks about interrupting, prodding Chris along to the next house up the block, but can’t bring himself to cut Chris off when he’s fired up like this.
Besides, she did ask. And it’s a little funny to watch the way she blanches when Chris finishes talking about the accident itself.
“And-and then,” he raves, eyes wide with excitement. “When he got to the hospital, he was still con-conscious, and he threw up half a cup of his brain!”
It’s a detail only a fourth grader could find so thrilling, and maybe Buck, who’s listening avidly even though they’ve both heard the story close to a dozen times tonight. Eddie waits patiently, snickering to himself at the look of horror on his neighbor’s face while Chris finishes explaining how his character had essentially been lobotomized and become an example for psychology worldwide.
“Oh … oh my,” she squeaks out when he’s wrapped up, blinking slowly as she processes everything Chris has thrown at her. “Are you doing a … a project for school?”
“Nope!” Chris answers, then thanks her for the candy and trots back down the driveway. Eddie watches the woman clutch at the armrest of her folding chair, sticking around long enough to make sure she won’t actually pass out before wishing her a happy Halloween and chasing after Chris and Buck, who’ve already made it up to the next porch.
There are only a few houses left in the neighborhood, so before long they’re standing back in the driveway, gently slipping the headband away from Chris’ face so he’ll fit in the truck. It’s a little sticky with the fake blood, so Eddie tucks it into the bed, making sure it’s secured for the short drive over to the 118's party.
Before long, they’re pushing open Bobby’s back gate and joining everyone else, surrounded by bat-shaped string lights and glowing pumpkins.
Hen is the first to look up when they arrive, her eyes landing immediately on Chris, who’d had his headpiece replaced as soon as he was out of the truck. There’s a bit of fresh “blood” dripping down his chin, and Chris ambles over when she calls out his name. She’s dressed up as a witch, shrouded in purple velvet and lacy black spiderwebs, long green nails glued to her fingertips.
Eddie supposes it’s a fitting look, to go with the way she’s cackling as she swats at Chimney’s arm, her fingers brushing against the sleeves of his suitcoat (he’s a mafia don, he’s been insisting all week, even if Eddie is pretty sure it’s just an excuse to wear his fedora and slick his hair back).
“Oh my God, Chim!” She’s gasping for air bending down to navigate a hug without getting whacked by a dowel rod. “He’s dressed up as you! Rebar and all!”
As soon as she’s standing again, Chim shoves her lightly.
“If he is, it’s the greatest costume of all time. Even if the rebar was through my forehead, it’s the thought that counts.”
“I’m not you, Chimney!” Chris interjects, rolling his eyes. “I’m Phineas Gage!”
He offers no further explanation, waiting to see if his announcement sinks in.
“Of course, you guys!” Bobby joins them, dressed as Frankenstein's monster, coming up behind Chris and putting both hands on his shoulders. He leans back quickly when Chris jerks his head back to see who’s defending him, only narrowly avoiding getting knocked in the chin with the sharpened end of the rod. “He’s … Phineas … Gage.”
Bobby's confidence wanes as he repeats what Chris had said, then leans over and whispers to Buck. Eddie can’t make out what he says, but can hear Buck’s reply.
“I’ll send you the link, but little man knows his stuff.” He points at Chris and continues at full volume. “Go on, bud. Tell them the rest.”
It’s all the encouragement Chris needs to start from the beginning, with his apparent hero working for the Rutlaw and Burlington Railroad in the year 1848. He ends up in the center of a circle, everyone else making their way over to see what the fuss is about. Chris keeps their attention, but whether it’s from the story itself or that it’s coming from a 10-year-old, Eddie can’t be sure.
Regardless, Athena arrives just in time to hear about the half-cup of brains, and immediately clutches at Bobby’s arm, wearing a red and white striped T-shirt and beanie. It’s not a graphic explanation, but Eddie figures it might be because Chris is usually so gentle and friendly. He has to admit, it’s a little jarring to listen to his kid raving about someone being skewered with an iron rod and living to tell the tale. But all he’s ever wanted is to encourage his son to be curious and interested in learning, so if that means he’s rattling off facts about a 200-year-old railroad accident, then that’s what it means.
By the time Chris finishes talking, the color has drained from Bobby’s face. He waits a moment to make sure the story is over, then stares at Eddie.
“I’m not sure which is scarier: that story, or that it’s his Halloween costume.”
Eddie opens his mouth to respond, but Hen asks Chris a question before he can get the words out.
“How’d you get that rod to go clear through your head, kiddo?”
“Buck made it!” Chris points at him, beaming. “And he did the blood too!”
“God knows he’s got enough experience with bleeding to make it looks real,” Bobby mutters. Eddie is pretty sure it’s supposed to be affectionate, but everyone knows just how badly Buck has scared them all and there’s a little too much truth to what Bobby is saying. Athena swats his arm and Buck chuckles.
“Eh, fake blood is easy. This recipe shows up really well on stage lights too, when that matters. Picked it up the summer I worked in the community theatre.”
Either he doesn’t notice the jaws dropping, or he chooses to ignore them, because he’s bending down in front of Chris, expertly avoiding the sharp end on his costume and inviting him over to the popcorn bar for a snack. He lets Chris lead him across the lawn, already chattering about the toppings he wants to try. The rest of the group watches them leave, staring in silence until Chimney breaks the spell.
“Summer in …"
“Community theatre?” Hen finishes, looking around to see if anyone else knows what he was referring to.
Everyone’s eyes settle on Eddie, who shrugs and holds up both hands.
“Don’t look at me. He volunteered to make the costume, but I didn’t ask for credentials.”
“Right,” Hen nods. “You just knew he’d do a great job.”
“You ever seen him do anything less?” Eddie tucks one hand into his pocket, watching Buck laugh at something Chris is saying to him. He means it, too; Buck is all in, whatever he’s doing, and even when things look like they’re going wrong, he always manages to make them right by the end.
The next thing he knows, he’s stricken with the realization of exactly how great Buck is, exactly how great they could be. He’s watching Buck with his son, the happiest he’s ever seen either of them, and it hits him like – well, like a tamping rod through his head.
They’d be so great together, in a way Eddie hasn’t had in so long, maybe ever. As soon as the thought is in his mind, it’s all-consuming, the only thing he can focus on: maybe next year, Buck will make costumes for all three of them, the sort of costumes that make people look at them and think “family.”
But right now, Hen is still looking at him, waiting for him to finish his point. He’s not sure if she said anything in response, has to think for a moment to remember what he’d said last.
Right, he asked if she’d ever seen Buck do anything less than great.
“Because I sure haven’t.”