MB Short Story: Almost Perfect

                “Cara mia!” John exclaimed in the worst Spanish accent that Hope had ever heard. “How I adore you!”

                Hope yelped in protest as John grabbed her hand . . . which was holding a tube of liquid eyeliner. Her perfect cat-eye miraculously remained intact, but it was a close call. Setting down the tube on the bathroom counter, she glared at her husband. John, accustomed to such glares, remained unphased.

                He ran loud kisses from the back of her hand to her elbow, and Hope couldn’t help but break into a giggle at the tickle of his fake moustache. Said moustache was crooked when John stopped, but he had a proud smile beneath the lopsided black bristles.

                “It’s our first Halloween as a married couple,” John said. “How does it feel?”

                Hope reached up and adjusted his moustache. “Almost perfect.”

                “Almost?”

                “I’m still disappointed that my paper mâché hand fell apart,” Hope said, grinning at his worried frown. “But it’s perfect except for that one Thing.”

                John didn’t get the joke (he’d never watched the Addams family), but Hope loved him anyway.

                “Honey, are you certain about this?”

                Hope paused from where she was wielding a pair of scissors. “It’s just a dress, John.”

                “It’s your wedding dress! Filled with memories! And you’re cutting it up in order to make a . .”

                “Corpse bride costume,” Hope reminded him. “From that old movie we watched last month.”

                “It just seems a waste.”

                Hope sighed and set the shears down on the kitchen table. “John, you’re it for me.”

                John, bless his himbo heart, blinked in confusion at her proclamation. “What?”

                “I said that you’re it for me,” Hope repeated. “I wanted to elope, but we had the big traditional wedding because that’s what you wanted. You’re the only person who I’d ever agree to marry, let alone have a ceremony with, and we’ve been there, done that. I might as well get a second happy memory out of the dress given how much it cost.”

                John ducked his head, still prone to bashfulness whenever she spoke sincerely despite them having been married for two whole years. “You’re it for me, too,” he said softly.

                “I know,” Hope replied. “So go grab the red paint from the craft closet while I cut this up.”

                “We should’ve gone as Morticia and Gomez,” John whined.

                “We did that Addams two years ago,” Hope replied without looking away from the bathroom mirror, where she was carefully dabbing blush onto the apples of her cheeks.

                “You were hot as Morticia.” John frowned, looking down at the frothy blue fabric of his costume. “I looked hot as Gomez,” he added glumly.

                Hope hummed noncommittally, swiping her lower lip with gloss.

                “Couldn’t we have at least gone as Sally and Jack?” John continued to complain. “You love that movie.”

                “Like I told you, The Nightmare Before Christmas is a Christmas movie. ‘Christmas’ is literally in the title.”

                “No one else thinks that.”

                “Well, I do. It would feel odd dressing up as Sally for Halloween.”

                “Yet this is acceptable?”

                Hope leveled her husband a stern look. “Don’t forgot your marriage vows. I get to choose the Halloween costumes every year.”

                “I thought you were kidding when you insisted on that clause.”

                “I wasn’t.”

                John groaned.

                “I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” Hope said, refocusing on her reflection and applying another layer of mascara. “I asked what your favorite horror movie was. You’re the one who chose The Shining.”

                “I thought that I’d get to dress up as Jack Nicholson’s character,” John grumbled. “I didn’t think you’d pick the creepy twins.” He sighed. “Adsila is never going to let me live this down.”

                Hope smiled at him. “Don’t fret so much, dear,” she said. “You make an adorable Grady sister. Now come here so I can put your wig on.”

                “Who’s the cutest Pugsley ever?” John cooed at his newborn son.

                “Bah!” Nick burped back.

                John rushed over to his wife, who was applying her eyeliner in the bedroom’s well-lit vanity. “Did you hear that?” he exclaimed. “Nicky called me Pa!”

                Hope smiled and decided not to burst her husband’s bubble of delusion. She shifted uncomfortably on the vanity’s stool, hitching her thumb beneath the elastic bust and pulling upwards on her long black dress.

                “This costume doesn’t quite fit the same after giving birth,” she said wryly.

                John, ever obliging, ogled her cleavage. “It fits even better,” he declared.

                She suppressed a pleased grin. “Get Nick in his costume while I finish touching up my warpaint.”

                “Yes, mi amor!” John’s Spanish accent had not improved over the years.

                After wrestling baby Nick into his pinstripe shirt and tying on his black booties, John picked his son off the bed, cradling him casually in one arm the way that a quarterback might carry a football while running.

                “It’s our first Halloween as parents,” John said. “How does it feel?”

                Hope reached up and adjusted his moustache, which Nick had tugged halfway down his lip. “Almost perfect.”

                “Almost?”

                “The Addams family had two children.”