All Trick and No Treat

"Come on, girls! We have to stop at the store before going home," I hollered at Katie and Beans from behind the pool fence.

Reluctantly, they climbed out of the cool water and gathered their gear. "Aw, Mommy, we were playing polo!" complained Beanie, who was competitive and hated losing any battle, even by default. (Default of a mean Mommy calling them out of the pool.)

"Look at you two, your lips are blue! Good thing I saved you before you turned into popsicles!" I teased as they moped toward the shower changing room where I'd had my frightening encounter with the stalker earlier in the day. "Hold up. Let me go in first and make sure there are no boys in there."

"Ew! Yuck. Why would boys go in the girl's room?" Katie snarled.

"I don't know. But I want to check. You wait outside."

My heart pounded in my throat, thinking of the vulgar-sounding voice that asked me to turn around for him earlier this afternoon, as I stood stark naked in the bathroom, thinking I was alone. Pushing open all the bathroom stalls, and then yanking back the shower curtains, I was relieved to find only myself and the echoes of my pulse ringing in my ears.

"Okay, come on in, girls!"

"Girls! It's safe!"

Good grief. Now where have they gone? I walked back out to the vending area where I'd left them and they were busily munching on candy bars before seeing me.

"Where did you get those from? Did you still have money from the store today?"

"Uh, uh. Some nice man bought them for us." Katie piped up.

"Oh, God. Spit those out. Now!" I yelled.

"Wh--YY?" Wailed Beanie, clamping her jaws down on the chocolatey treat that some pervert had given her behind my back.

"I mean it. Spit that candy out right now. In my hand. In my hand!" I scolded, trying to wrench open her jaws to dig it out of her mouth before she had time to swallow.

"Ow, Mommy! Why are you being so mean?" she cried.

"Because we don't take candy from people we don't know. You don't know if that candy has poison or broken glass in it. Please don't give me a hard time. I'm trying to keep you safe."

"But, Mommy, when we go trick and treating we don't know everybody who gives us candy and you let us eat that. What's wrong with this candy?" Katie pointed out, making far more sense than I could handle now.

"Please, trust me. We do know most of the families we trick-or-treat with. I don't know anything about the man who gave you that candy. What did he look like? Did he say anything? Is he a camper here?"

"He was just a man man. I never seen him before," Beanie whimpered.

"Katie, what kind of clothes was he wearing?"

"But, you said not to judge people because of their clothes."

"Just, tell me what he was wearing, how old he was and did you see him before?"

"I never seen him either. He had a hoody on and shorts and boots."

"Boots? Not sneakers or flip flops?" I grilled her.

"Umhm. Why?" She asked, perturbed at having me interrupt her treat to interrogate her.

"Well, if he was a camper he'd be wearing flip-flops or sneakers, not boots. Like work boots? Like Daddy wears?"

"Yeah."

Torn between dragging the girls to the camp store and creating another ruckus or letting them dry off and get dressed, I decided on the latter. We all had enough excitement for one day.

"Okay, um, let's get you two dressed before you freeze. The coast is clear. No boys in the bathroom," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

They glumly pulled their shirts and shorts over their now-dried little bodies and I insisted on making them dry their hair under the hand dryer before we left, as I tried to detangle their snarls. Hey, I already was a monster who made them spit out Snickers bars, I might as well go for the gold in the Mean Mommy Triathalon by viciously ripping the hair out of their heads.

After the struggle, we solemnly marched up the driveway to the employees' parking lot at the back end of the camp store. As usual, the passenger side door was jammed and I needed to get in the driver's side to kick it open for the girls. They tumbled into the car and Beanie climbed forlornly into her car seat, with Katie helping to buckle her in.

Vrooom! Vroom! Vrom! Vrm. Vm.

"Shit!"

"Mommy!" Katie scolded.

I banged my head on the worn steering wheel and began sobbing out of frustration. What else was going to go wrong today? What else, Lord? I thought angrily. Why did everything have to be such an exhausting trial? When movies show divorced women they get alimony and child support and date young guys, living it up. When I get divorced I get the shit car, lose my house, have to start from scratch and be the man of the house and the wife too.

Maybe I could get a gig as a porn actress. That woman at the cottage sounded like she was having fun.

Or not.

"