The Mother Who Came Back

"Halloween is tomorrow," Allison Ryder told her father at the breakfast table.

"MM-hmm," said her father who was busy reading about stocks and bonds in the newspaper. He was not a particularly talkative person and lately, "MM-hmm," had become his standard for just about everything Allison said.

Allison swallowed a spoonful of cereal and wondered if continuing the conversation was a good idea. She decided to risk it. "Sometimes," she said, "Halloween makes me think of Mom."

Father put down his newspaper and looked at her incredulously. "Your mother?" At least he hadn't said, "MM-hmm."

"Yeah," Allison went on, "Remember how she loved Halloween? One year, she dressed up in that Old Witch costume with the really ugly mask and said, 'Where's that little girl I wanted for my dinner?' Honestly, I didn't like it when she did that. But now, I wouldn't mind if she came back and did it. As long as she came back."

Allison's speech had become wistful, but Father's face seemed to have become angry. "If I've told you once, I've told you a million times, I do not want to hear about your mother. Certainly not at the breakfast table. She's never coming back. Do you understand? Never!" Then, he went back to drinking his coffee.

Allison thought that she would have preferred, "MM-hmm."

* * *

But not everyone was as hostile to Halloween talk as Allison's father. On the way to school that day, Allison had run into her old friend, Rachel Woods. "Allison!" she said enthusiastically. "I never see you anymore."

Allison shrugged. "I guess I've just been busy since my Mom left."

"Oh! That's right. Your mother!" Rachel's face fell and she tried to put a supporting arm around Allison. "What happened with her anyway? I mean, did your parents divorce?"

"She. . .just. . .left."

"I'm sorry. It's none of my business, but tomorrow's Halloween and I just volunteered to take my little brother trick-or-treating."

Allison didn't smile very much, but she did now. "I guess we all have our problems."

"Oh come on! He's not that bad. And I was wondering if you could come too. Please. It'll be lots of fun."

Allison sighed. This wasn't exactly the sort of thing she was in the mood for, but Rachel was so likable that it almost sounded fun. "All right."

"Great, I can come by your house tomorrow at five. Pick a nice costume. I'm going to be a she-devil."

* * *

The doorbell rang at 4:30. Allison was in her room trying to throw together a costume.

The doorbell rang again and Allison wondered why her father didn't answer it. Maybe he was in his home office. Sometimes when he got wrapped up in things like that, he ignored other things like doorbells.

The doorbell rang a third time, and Allison decided that she would have to answer it.

She went down to the living room and the house seemed oddly quiet. Where was her father?

The doorbell rang a fourth time. Allison shrugged and opened it.

Standing on the porch was a tall woman in a black witch's outfit and an ugly, but familiar, rubber mask. "Where's the little girl I wanted for my dinner?" said the witch.

Allison gulped because the voice was unmistakable. "Mom?"

"Hello Dear."

Allison threw her arms around the witch's neck and even tried to kiss her, but that just gave her a mouthful of rubber.

The witch laughed. "It's good to see you again, sweetheart. May I come in?"

Allison smiled and let the witch in. The witch walked through the living room to the kitchen. "Ahh. Here's my old kitchen. Not as tidy as I remembered it, though."

Allison felt a little embarrassed. "Neither Dad nor I is very good at washing dishes."

"No matter," said the witch picking up a large kitchen knife which was in the sink. "Do you have any plans for Halloween."

"Well, yeah. A friend of mine is coming here soon and we're going trick-or-treating."

"Well, could you take a bath before she gets here?"

Allison was a little surprised. "Do I have body odor?"

"Well, no." The witch seemed to get a little sad. "It's just that on the way here, I remembered how my fondest memories of you were of when you took a bath."

"Great," said the witch tucking the knife under her black dress.

Allison thought about that. It seemed like a strange request, but Allison felt rather desperate to please her mother, so she looked at the clock and said, "I guess I have time for a quick one. Meet me in the bathroom."

Five minutes later, when Allison strode into the bathroom wearing her terrycloth robe, she saw that her mother had already filled the tub and was sitting on a stool in the bathroom. "I fixed your bath. I hope it's not too hot."

Allison moved to open her robe, but she stopped when she noticed that the witch was staring at her. "Um. . .Are you just going to watch me?"

"Don't tell me you're too modest to let your own mother see you undressed."

"Well, no I guess not," said Allison. Although actually she was.But she took a deep breath, removed her robe and stepped into the tub. The water felt good anyway as she started putting soap on herself. After a moment, she looked at the witch and said, "Well, are you going to keep that costume on all night, Mom?"

"What, do you want to see me naked?" asked the witch.

"No, of course not, but I would like to see your face without the mask, Mom."

Was it her imagination or did the witch look a little nervous? "Never mind that, now."

* * *

As Rachel walked up the driveway to Allison's house, she felt extremely pleased with herself. Her costume was adorable with a red miniskirt, fishnet stockings, and when complemented by a plastic pair of horns and a little pitchfork, Rachel knew that it would get her lots of attention. Rachel didn't even mind that her little brother was walking along clad in a skeleton costume. She knew that tonight would be a fun night. Especially with Allison.

Allison. Thinking about her made Rachel wonder. She had always thought that Allison was a sweet person, but lately she had been so withdrawn. Tonight, I'll bring her out, she thought with a smile.

When, she rang the doorbell, a slender Middle-aged man that Rachel recognized as Allison's father answered it. "Trick or treat?" he asked.

"Oh. Actually. We're here to meet Allison."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Right. Is she ready?"

The man turned around and called into the house. "Allison, your friend's here."

"I'm in the tub," called back Allison's voice.

"I guess she's taking a bath," Mr. Ryder reported unnecessarily.

Darn! Didn't Allison know they were supposed to meet now? Out loud Rachel asked. "Do you mind if we come in and wait?"

"Mmm-Hmm," said Mr. Ryder as he let them into the living room.

* * *

"I'd better hurry," said Allison. "Rachel's here."

"Don't rush," said the witch firmly. "Don't you have any questions for me? Like why I left you in the first place?"

At that, Allison felt wet tears forming in her eyes. "I always thought," she admitted, "that it was my fault."

"Well, I can't deny that," said the witch, "at least part of it. Don't get me wrong. Being married to 'Mr. Mmm-Hmm' didn't help and was part of the reason that I went crazy. Still, there was you too." She sighed almost sadly. "Every mother wants to love her child, but when her child is an ugly hateful child like you, it gets depressing."

Allison didn't know why tears were streaming down her cheeks. After all, the witch was just confirming something she already knew. "I'm really sorry."

"Being sorry won't help, but there is a way that you can make it up to me."

That was the best news Allison had heard in a long time. "Sure. Anything."

"The reason I came back now is for you. I want you to come back with me."

That was even better news. Her mother wanted her. Allison smiled through her tears, but then she thought of something. "But what about everyone else?"

"What? Your father? 'Mr. Mmm-hmm' will barely notice if you're gone. And you have no friends. That's actually an advantage of being ugly and unlikable. You're free to go and nobody cares."

Allison hadn't thought of it that way. The truth was that the witch had a point. Basically, nobody cared where she was. "So," she said, "you're saying that I should just pack my things and leave?"

"Pack your things? Don't be silly. Did I bother packing my things before I left you?" The witch smiled and pulled the kitchen knife out from under her robe.

* * *

Rachel's little brother was getting restless. "When do we get to go trick-or-treating?" he asked.

"Soon," Rachel promised with exasperation. "Mr. Ryder, do you have any idea what Allison could be doing?"

"I'm her father, not her video surveillance," said Mr. Ryder, barely looking up from his newspaper.

"Something's wrong," Rachel said out loud to nobody in particular. "Something's wrong with Allison."

* * *

"Well, go ahead," said the witch.

Allison was holding the knife gingerly in the tub. "Will it hurt?"

"No, it'll tickle," said the witch impatiently. "Of course it'll hurt a little, but if you just make a quick cut on each wrist, I promise you won't feel the pain for very long. Now hurry, you owe it to me."

Allison couldn't deny that, so she took the knife and made a clean cut first on here right wrist then on her left.

Then, she held her wrists under the water and watched it turn pink.

* * *

"Mr. Ryder, where's your bathroom?" Rachel said getting to her feet.

"Upstairs, but Allison. . ."

"I know. I want to check on her."

"Mmm-hmm."

Rachel dashed up the steps and opened the door to the bathroom.

She gasped because Allison was lying in a tub full of red water and looked close to death. "Oh my God! Mr. Ryder!"

"Mmm-hmm," called back a voice.

"Call 911! And keep my brother away from this room."

Rachel pulled Allison out of the tub and cradled her in her arms. "You're going to be all right," she promised.

Allison's blank face did not seem to care about that. She just said in a whispery voice. "Is my mother in here?"

"Your mother? Of course not. There's nobody in here except you and me. . .And that costume." For the first time, Rachel noticed that there was an empty costume sitting on the bathroom floor. A black dress, a witch's hat and an ugly rubber mask were all piled in a heap. "Why would your mother be here?"

Allison seemed to sigh. "Three years ago, she said she was going to take a bath, but she cut open her wrists in the tub just like I did. . .I guess she's never coming back."

"No," said Rachel sadly. "I don't think she can." She pressed Allison closer to herself. "But you still can. Hang in there. Because I don't want to lose you."

"You don't want to lose me?" Allison seemed to smile in spite of herself.

"Absolutely."

Then that woman--I don't think it was my mother--was wrong. I don't want to leave, now."

"Good," said Rachel silently praying that it wasn't too late.

The paramedics arrived and carried Allison away. They said that they thought she would pull through. She apparently hadn't cut herself as deep as she'd wanted to.

Rachel felt a little better and turned to leave the bathroom. But as she did, she thought she heard a voice coming from the pile of clothes on the floor.

A woman's voice.

It said, "You know dear, that costume you're wearing is an insult to my kind."