Chapter 4 - Four You

Being so far away from the entrance gave me plenty of time to reflect on the cardigan, as Lacy opted to slip it on her shoulders instead of stuffing it back into the cramped spaces of her purse. It didn't tempt me to ask for a trade. My leather jacket, despite the fact it would benefit from a wash then a long, warm dry to ward back the encroaching evening chill, was not only sufficient to keep Lacy's slight shape covered but worked like a reinforcing skirt dipping past the thigh. It felt like a reverse pumpkin, all brown stem with just the flowing, sprig of orange resting at the bottom.

I asked Lacy if she wanted to get a pumpkin either for a display or for cutting into a jack-o-lantern. Grandpa used to cut all sorts of spooky, creative faces. When his fingers got too stiff to do the job, he and grandma would work together to get the right shapes. They would also complain about it, like if someone split a game controller in two and never told you how to use it.

Tugging on her cardigan as she skillfully organized her plume of hair, Lacy remarked, "I considered it. And grandma wanted to put it on your grocery list before you left. But grandpa thought it would be a waste, since he couldn't carve it up as he wanted. Might as well get a plastic one, he said at one point. I tried to offer him some other ideas, but he just had his feet up and was watching game shows. So, I told grandma I needed to go for a walk. And you know the rest."

Yeah. I knew it.

At the front, Lacy hauled over a cart which rolled cleanly, though still noisily, across all four wheels. She offered it to me first, but I considered passing it back to her until I remembered how much of a deterrent and separator it had been for that blond.

Stepping out into the Walmart felt like stepping out onto the largest stage in town. I'd done that for square dancing in the fall when barely old enough to tie my shoes. The moment I crossed the nervous threshold of backstage for the hot lights, staring masses, and surreal horror of it all burned into my childhood brain.

Everyone could see me in my silly little costume. My parents were out there somewhere, and I could feel my father's sharpened scowl even though I couldn't see it. My partner was a slight, delicate bird of a little girl who clung to me as a reminder of what we were supposed to do.

Her fair, straw-like hair had been spun into looping gold, and she wore a brilliant, gingham dress much like the other girls except for the superfluous ribbons she'd been adding since the day she received it.

If I had any wisdom in my young mind, I would've recognized she was nervously infatuated with me, even as I puzzled over her sweaty, shaking fingers. We survived the dance and mom even saved a VHS of it.

The girl's name was Celia. She hung around the other end of the room with a dignified, princess court of other girls adorning her. But I never noticed her again after that performance.

So far as I know, she vanished into the early fall, foggy ether, like sublimating snow with just a whisper of breath.

At least, I expected stepping out into the Walmart to be like that childhood event burned into my soul. Crossing the threshold of gumball vending machines and key makers to baskets of bread and the last remains of Halloween cookies with the eager, opportunistic positioning of Thanksgiving and Christmas goods should've been a knee-buckling of anxiety pressing solely on me.

The area was busy with some old ladies sifting through egg salad, a family waiting for fresh chicken, a lumbering lady growling at her brood, and a stick-bug-like man with pants that didn't reach his knees. None of them turned their eyes in our direction. I did sense the gaze of workers with filled carts over by the automatic check-out, but they didn't linger.

Despite this clear reassurance, I felt like I was flaunting Lacy's practically-naked shape from behind a frail lattice of shopping cart metal, instead of keeping her safe. Cloaking my altered details in a stinky, old leather coat only played up the physical sensations. Every step I took felt like walking through an acid wash. The cold comfort of the cart saved Lacy's arms from swinging and a little jiggling but I couldn't be more embarrassed than if I had a massive hole in those clothes that only I could see and feel but which I feared everyone else secretly knew about too.

Focusing on the goal of the pile of bananas was the only thing that kept me from drowning in it all.

Lacy bent over the display, digging as though a route to some unearthly realm awaited on the other side. I attempted to aim the length of the cart across her jean-clad backside, but she moved and darted too quickly for my efforts to help much. Roughly a minute later, she ripped the first purple-toned discovery from its bunch and plunked it down in the basket. She asked me to double-check her find. Easily done.

There it was, everything that had separated me from my normal life and plunged me into the life of my cousin. Before I could fully process that thought, Lacy had extracted a second one. Even together, you had to check with a careful eye to distinguish that they weren't just regular bananas with a weird style of browning.

I made a few idle efforts at searching as well, especially since I'd found the first one but apparently, the descriptions provided by me and on the forum had been enough to set Lacy loose on her scavenger hunt. While she acquired her third, I did pick out one on my own and added it to the pile.

Searching further would require bending towards the center of the display like Lacy was doing. Consciously, I knew the orange skirt revealed far less of Lacy's shape than the jeans the real deal was wearing. Literally on top of that, the jacket would take care of anything else. But I could feel so bare and that made me paranoid.

The possibility of some random guy sneaking around and leering at my cousin was bad enough, but I wasn't going to give them a second chance if I could help it. Once Lacy added a fifth banana to our pile of torn-off singles, I asked her if that was enough.

She checked what we had and sighed. "I guess, but it's so close to a half-dozen. Just in case, it's better to even it up."

I could've questioned what scenario she had in mind which required so many to cover "just in case", but I had my rising suspicions. As I waited for her to find that last, elusive banana, a random guy, who didn't look too much different than I usually did, ambled around a display of oranges. I held my breath and did my best to be watchful of his approach while trying not to draw undue attention.

Still, he flashed me a quick look and smile without saying anything. My snap reaction was to smile back, but I soon clenched it down into a frown.

Fortunately, Lacy soon found and added a sixth banana to our cart. She remarked, "I noticed like three or four more, but I think that's enough. Leave some just in case someone else needs one."

I readily agreed with her and gazed at the automatic check-out. But she urged the cart away from there and towards what remained of the Halloween displays.

She hastily explained that she wanted to check some stuff out. If it didn't lead away from the bulk of the crowd, then I might've objected. Furthermore, the longer nothing crazy or scary happened just standing around in Lacy's body, the more I could tolerate the uncomfortable simmer of possibilities that didn't come to a freaky boil.

The only rough part was we had to cut across a minefield of bras and underwear by the changing rooms. I would usually stare ahead to the men's section and beyond, not that I worried the clothes would know I was staring and do anything out of a horror movie, but it felt like as much of an intrusion as being forced to know every physical inch of Lacy's body. Even looking then made Lacy's loaned, soft cheeks feel flush with more heat than could be explained by my heavy jacket.

These bras were too small for Lacy. Even a quick glance told me that much. But bras like these were meant for body parts like what the banana had given me. Letting Lacy lead the way as I slumped sleeve-swarmed arms across the cart basket, the Halloween section was filled with more late-minute shoppers than I anticipated. I just wanted to be done.

At each end of the aisle stood rogue mirrors, like they'd escaped from the changing rooms to settle all the way over here. Wigs and masks and fake teeth were tested and flashed by children, teens, and adults in a slow, wriggling mass. Too many. Lacy launched ahead while I paused to catch a listless iteration of Lacy behind the flash and flutter of a dozen other faces.

She matched the mold of surprise and shock I'd caught in the last mirror. A Lacy on a bad day, but one I'd glimpsed a lot from the outside when she shuffled off her hardest high school days and hugged a massive blanket to her body. She would slip on a friendly smile whenever I asked her what was wrong and assure me all was fine.

Straightening against the basket, I didn't gain much height, but I could feel more of Lacy's silver eyes as I asked an unspoken question while wearing a seamless mask of her face: Are you okay?

It was an automatic question for whenever I saw that amount of trepidation on her features. But that was me and my concern surrounded by so many people. I crept ahead to catch Lacy, as much as the other shoppers would allow. My unintended costume of my young cousin poked out of so many places. Holding my breath helped a little, even if it was just for the integrity of the inside of my head.

Lacy dug up a frail, thin polyester costume of some half-considered red-headed princess with a committee-managed proportion of spunk and sass before chucking it back into the pile. No way she was wearing that one. Assortments of ninjas and pirates and combinations thereof also got shoved aside. Off-brand martial arts turtles also got discarded for a brightly-colored fighting uniform that looked a little too large for her.

She soon explained to me, over the dull roar of excited children and hectic digging, "I wanted to do a fighting character this year, like well.... How you had that so cool outfit from your karate classes years and years ago."

I could scarcely remember those classes or how far I'd gotten with the program. It was something for dad, so that I didn't spend all of my time in my room. The karate gi still hung in my closet though and I could fit in it the last time I tried it on. If Lacy wanted it, that would save some money over getting a poor-quality knockoff. Sure, it would be large on her, but it would do the job for one night.

Setting the tissue paper like outfit back into the pile, she agreed that was a better idea but lingered, "We need to get something for you right now though. Assume we wait and everything feels better in a day, how are you going to spend your Halloween night?"

I tugged on that skirt and top as much as I dared. "I already...you know. Going as far as being someone else is not really my thing. And that especially rings true with how things are for the moment."

Lacy leaned over the end of the cart and announced, "I know you. Even though being something or someone else is the best part of a night like this. I was actually going to go as a lumberjack or farmer version of...y-John with a big bushy beard. I just needed a bit of flannel and some nice overalls. And then something out of the garage."

I turned back towards the women's clothes behind us, ready to escape this last-minute frenzy. Lacy's coat-cloaked butt in place of mine didn't clear the nearest stranger but that accelerated my escape before I had to talk to anyone else like this. With my head down, Lacy helped me flee.

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However, our route took us back to the bras and Lacy had an expression which, while it didn't curl to the extremes of a Grinch smile, it suggested she had plenty of ideas behind it, ready to be unleashed.

Before I could veto any or all of them, she noted that I needed something for the meanwhile. Again, I tried to flutter the top and skirt as an answer. But she urged, "Something just for you."

Though I didn't understand it, I humored her. She sifted through poofy skirts which would've looked ridiculous several decades ago and skinny jeans that appeared far too tight, even for Lacy's shape. Some of the dresses weren't too bad but by comparison. She actually found a faux velvet, green gown leftover from the ambitions of summer. It matched well with her hair but appeared paper-thin.

After a spell of sighing and grimacing, my tension began to ease. This was the closest Lacy had ever had to a sister she could go out and do sister things with. Granted, I was a poor imitation and Lacy never much showed interest in this kind of shopping. But I could stand being her prop if it made her happy.

I raised Lacy's arms despite the weight of her boobs on my chest. I turned around without the coat, even though I still felt self-conscious of what was unseen and unknown behind me. I let myself be her dress-up doll even though, mercifully, I didn't have to try the clothes on. Most, she just knew what would fit herself, and therefore me. For questionable selections, it was just a quick trip to the changing room. I stayed a fair distance away.

An older lady, who made sure that the same amount of clothes went in as came out and handed out little placards, flashed me a friendly smile as an antidote to the discomfort I could feel leaking out whenever Lacy was away.

I was also getting hungry and the alluring rotisserie back at the old house had to be getting cold with grandma and grandpa waiting for us. Fortunately, Lacy finished soon after that with a set of things she explained to me, even though I didn't want her to. Underwear. More underwear. A sleeping gown. A nice top. A purple skirt. A warm dress. Jeans in her size. And a warm top.

What confused me though was that she tried something on, then grabbed an identical item from the shelf, leaving the one she'd checked neatly returned to the table or rack. So long as they fit, and I didn't need to crush Lacy's guts trying to put them on. At least everything together stopped short of $100.

Before I could twist it around into an early Christmas gift, Lacy already had her debit card in the slot and the bags in the cart. The guy who checked our receipt at the door scanned the two of us much more than the slip of paper. Tumbling, jagged rocks wrestled their way through my borrowed guts as he languidly wished us a "spooooky Halloween" on our way out.

I was glad to be out of there. The first red of evening felt like the drape of a curtain pulled across my anxieties. Consciously, I knew that it would be fine, but I was aware of the strangeness. No one was going to slap Lacy's body and say anything. After all, I could run them over with a cart.

And the subtle gestures were nothing to get angry about. But this was my cousin's body. Our grandparents couldn't be around us all the time. What we really had was each other. Granted, I knew she could slam the breath out of anyone who started something and poke them raw. But I also wanted her to be appreciated.

The family that counted was the four of us. I had my condo, but my heart was still with her and our grandparents. At random, Lacy gripped the cart and rode part of the way as I pushed. Shoving down on the cart to keep it from tipping, she apologized before I could say anything, "Sorry. Just old times."

She did use to ride along the side a lot and her mom screamed at her for it. For weeks, she regaled me with iterations of when she once finally had control of the cart after everything was dropped off. She was supposed to simply return it to the shelter, but she pushed off like a heavy, complicated skateboard and practically rattled her braces off launching over a curb, spraying a puddle, and vaulting the cart exactly where it was meant to go. She was grounded and slapped across the wrists so hard it hurt for her to close her hands, but she was still laughing about it all those weeks later.

No adventures came from the cart pinballing into the shelter once we had the bags out. Everything fit in the cab without needing to use the bed. And Lacy put the question to me about driving. I was fine, but she also buried me in new thoughts.

"We need to drive over and get some clothes from your place and don't you need your cell too? Am I forgetting anything?"

Recovering from the on-guard attention of Walmart only to return to a body that was still so acutely wrong, I felt wary of the lights ahead and resolving grandparents and whatever else before this was over. I just wanted food, the cooling sides and chicken back at the old house tickling my thoughts as the luring aromas of forbidden cookies had saturated everything like a warming air freshener.

When I questioned why we needed to go to my place, Lacy asserted that I hadn't been clear about the state of my only set of clothes at the house after the banana stuff. I clarified that they were a little soaked and I could easily just wait for them to be washed. However, she persisted that it was important I get spares and the notion wouldn't leave her head. As with the clothes we'd just bought, I had many questions and concerns, but I did want to grab my recharged cell at least, so I stowed them.

The last, lingering question was who would be the one to drive there. I still doubted the ability to wield this body with precision. In my head, I could see and feel all the moves I needed to make but the changes weren't like a new car so much as a new system for judging how much a little turn meant. And the exhaustion of keeping it all together left me uncertain.

Begrudgingly, I ceded the driver's seat to Lacy and added a second, smaller and smellier jacket around this body. Despite the desire to shut my eyes and leave things to fate, I had to watch Lacy double-check the mirrors but nod with how I had positioned them as her and slowly back out when the traffic flow abated.

While her turns were overzealous, arms flailing underneath each other for as much radius as possible, she merged and made it onto the main road with the lights flicked on preemptively. In the cab, I settled the pendulum she had set my hair in. Of all the things that had preoccupied me during our shopping trip, the contained and confined weight of the hair had passed into phantom-like invisibility.

North Quincy was already busy and a few groups of early trick or treaters crept around the businesses and wove their way into residential patches. Past the regular turn, several gas stations, Old Town, the shuttered-for-the-season public pool, and the medical district, Lacy made a series of lefts until she arrived on my street.

The condos never had enough light from the road, especially with the hollow area underneath for parking and a small garage. We took the elevator on the side right up to the door. For once, it didn't feel as cramped. It did feel a little unsettling though, especially with one of the interior lights burnt out and the other threatening flickers.

Unlocking the door should've brought me relief to be home but the condo was just a place to stay for now. It wasn't home. Resisting the urge to ease off Lacy's shoes, I made the first move to peer down the hallway to my bedroom and...

"AAAAAAAA!" The sound that shot out of my throat was sharp enough to make windows quiver and ears ache. Especially the ones I possessed. Heaving a grunt of heart-throbbing embarrassment, I couldn't escape the humiliation of scaring myself in the lamest of ways.

At the end of the hallway, propped up near the lithograph of our great-great-grandparents was the cardboard prop of an old actor with a fedora. Turned around, as I had left it, it looked pure black, like a shadow hat man watching me from the darkest stretch.

Lacy didn't even flinch as she asked, "What is that?"

I sighed hard, although it wound up sounding more like a ragged snort. "Bogart. I meant to put it away, but I forgot. I remembered a long time ago that one of my teachers had props of all sorts of figures, just watching everyone. Classmates wanted to turn them away, but it helped. I tutor, so it was just a thought..." A gesture at the figure sufficed for the completion of my statement.

Clutching her chin, Lacy regarded the figure and reflected on some of the subjects I taught privately. Most were from self-education and she knew as much as me, since we'd tried to teach each other.

As she sifted through my drawers and I collected my phone from the charger, I tidied up lightly and lugged the trash to the door with Lacy's thighs and back starting to ache. Popping over to advise her about how my closet was logically arranged, I started to feel the weight of the bottled water on an unfamiliar bladder. Hustling over to the restroom, I nervously pushed down and pulled up a variety of things.

Easing back against the flimsy, stock plastic seat, it still felt like I'd mashed and mixed things up. Raging urine gushed out and dripped across nervous, sweaty features. The smell that my body made from the sweat to the effects of gas to everything just felt sharply foreign. My body was gone, long gone, and something else was making all this. And worst of all, it represented the most intimate parts of my closest relative.

After taking an inordinately long time to get everything clean and feeling fresh, especially with the disorganization of my counter, I shifted to open the door and released not only a scream but a weak-kneed stagger as Bogart's blank side loomed in the doorway. Fumbling forward on Lacy's legs to boot him hard, Lacy soon darted over to apologize for her joke.

"In the spirit of the season", she explained. Well, she got me.

Before long, we had just about everything Lacy said we needed and stuffed into a pair of trash bags. A third bag of stuff for the can went down with me as I checked all the doors and flicked off the lights. Blind to the blackness as I made my way to the front, the season settled on the back of my neck with more weight than that bound hair.

Checking again, it almost seemed like the spill from the street left a violet tint to the darkened condo, like a shade off the iridescence of those freaky bananas. This body seemed eager to be freaked out with goosebumps from the slightest chill in the air. Hugging a fresh coat from my closet that still spilled over Lacy's body but without the heavy scent of John, I pressed through the door and slammed it shut behind me, as though that would relax my nerves.

The elevator made sure to shudder and shut off the lights for a long, rushing double-heartbeat of a moment before I could drop off the trash and help Lacy load the truck bed. She knew the way back, so I decided to keep faith in her.

Glancing through the windows, I noticed a black figure with the faint, purple hint from the street lamps wedged between the blinds. I snuck a glance at Lacy for leaving Bogart there to spook me and probably the whole neighborhood. She was focused on backing up and had on a good poker face. She wouldn't get me twice with the same gag.

As we pulled away though, it puzzled me that his blank, shadowy head didn't look like it had any sort of hat on top. Shrugging, I let those borrowed eyes rest as we made our way back to the old house.