The Next Best Thing

Chapter 17

Emma decided to tell Gabe about Mitch on the weekend, after a little Halloween shopping and lunch to put him in a good mood. There'd be no Marvel hero or monster costumes for her nephew, no sir. When she asked him who or what he wanted to be for Halloween he immediately said, "Henry Pert of Nottinghamshire."

"Was he one of Robin Hood's guys?"

"No, he lived in Tudor times and he shot himself in the head with an arrow by mistake."

"I see. Is he from one of your Horrible Histories 'Stupid Deaths' things?"

"Yeah!"

"Ah-ha. And how the heck would someone shoot themselves in the head with an arrow anyway?"

"His longbow jammed up, so he put it between his knees to fix it and while he was bent over it, boinnnng! Right through his eye!"

"Blech!" Emma shivered. "Sweetie, that sounds a little gruesome. Very Halloween-y, totally original, but didn't your school try to ban a Dr. Seuss' book for inciting patricide or something? It might be too gross for them."

"I don't have to put the arrow in my eye, or have blood dripping down. It could've been a clean shot."

"Well, okay," Emma sighed. "Let's see what they've got." She desperately needed him not to be disappointed.

Naturally, the sales staff couldn't point them to the 'Tudor notables' section, but one was very helpful in suggesting a bard costume, telling Gabe he could wear an arrow-through-the-head headband over his floppy hat.

"It's perfect!" Gabe said.

"I can't tell you how glad I am you didn't want to be one of those toilet deaths," Emma said at the cash.

"Elvis costumes are upstairs," the cashier said.

They took their haul to the restaurant next door and ordered milkshakes and fries.

It was now or never.

"So Gabe, you like Mr. Garner right?"

"Yeah, he's pretty cool. I didn't know he was famous. I thought he was just a regular neighbour."

"That's one of the coolest things about him. Not everyone who's famous is as nice as he is. I like him too."

"You want him to be your boyfriend?"

He wasn't teasing her. He just asked it plainly and dipped a fry in his shake.

"How would you like it if he was?"

"I think it'd be great. Then he could come over and hang out all the time, and drive us around in his car."

Well, that was easy, she thought, relieved.

"Think you can make him like you?"

"Make him?" she snorted. "I shouldn't have to make him. He should just like me the way I am."

"He likes your coffee anyway."

"You're darn right he does. In fact, it just so happens that he does like me, and he does want to be my boyfriend. So what do you say to that?"

"Good job, Auntie Em. Now grandma can stop asking when it's going to happen."

*****

Emma took the following Friday off, not specifically to stay home and fool around with Mitch, though they certainly took advantage of alone time as soon as Gabe shoved off for school, but because Petey was finally coming to fix the bathroom walls. Oh, the joy of having her most private functions be totally private again! As usual, when it came to such matters, her mind conjured the image of that (surely) noble, (roughly) eighteenth century feminine ancestor having to stand over a box or a bowl in the corner of a room to do her business so she didn't miss the party. Okay, maybe there was a divider, or maybe even a separate room, but there was probably at least one maid or lady-in-waiting present and praying to be transferred to different department. The indignity of it all!