Trick or Treat, smell my feet

By Louise Norlie

It is a popular legend that the word “handicap” came from a need for the Disabled to beg for money by holding out a cap for charity. Just the same, the sound of the word seems to imply this meaning. On Halloween, everyone participates in mock beggary. They beg not for the basics of existence (food, clothing, shelter), but for sweets and extras, the treats that make life fun and rewarding.

The tradition to approach houses, intimate dwelling places, asking strangers to participate in the spirit of the holiday, had been a little bit different for Martha. Trick or Treating often brought her to the bottom of an inaccessible valley that could not be scaled on either side. There were simply too many stairs everywhere.

Although she carefully chose particular routes where the buildings seemed more accessible than most, there were few houses where the doorbell could be rung without multiple steps in her way.

Martha’s aunt would usually take her from door to door. The person who answered would look at Martha’s aunt and joke, “Aren’t you a little too old to be Trick or Treating?” until Martha’s aunt would point below, to the person in the gully, blocked by the steps.

Martha would shout “Trick or Treat.” Martha’s aunt would repeat this if Martha was not heard. If asked, Martha’s aunt would explain the nature of her disability to curious neighbors, who, out of well-intended charity, would often give Martha an extra helping of candy.

At times, Martha enjoyed Trick or Treating with her friend Angela. Martha would stay in the driveway, sidewalk, or pathway, while Angie would lunge up the steps, ring the doorbells and asked for candy for the both of them. Everyone admired Angie for helping Martha.

One year Angela said she could not Trick or Treat with Martha. They were coming to the borderline age when they were too old for the children’s tradition, yet old enough to enjoy the fracas of costumes and parties and All Hallows Eve.

“Why can’t you come with me, Angie?” Martha asked.

“I’ve been invited to a party at Jimmy’s house. Didn’t you get invited too?”

“No, I wonder why.”

“He probably thought that you might not be able to come.”

Martha tried to hide how much this news affected her. It was not so much the unavailability of her friend or the fact that she was not invited – it was Jimmy. Whenever his name was mentioned, she had to feign complete indifference about him.

In Martha’s eyes, Jimmy had become incredibly attractive. She had only exchanged a few words with him, but he seemed the most wonderful being she had ever seen. What was the cause of it? Why did he seem so different among everyone she knew?

Love had disguised him. It must have been love. What else would make her idealize Jimmy, make her worship his every word and action? Martha suspected, deep in her heart, that he was perhaps not as he seemed, but the sweetness of young love was too delightful to dismiss, as yet.

“Have you ever been to Jimmy’s house before?” asked Martha.

Angie said, “Yes, a couple of times.”

Martha titled her head, “Are there any steps?”

“No, there aren’t any steps to get in,” said Angie. “No one would mind if you just showed up with me. Everyone will be glad to see you there. Meet me in front of his house at seven.”

No steps to get in, then the coast is clear, thought Martha. She squirmed with delight at what she might find behind the front door.

Anyone can imagine Martha’s emotions prior to the party. The secretly
admired one is always swathed in mystery. To see Jimmy outside of school,
to be inside Jimmy’s house, to see the place where he existed in all those
hours where she did not see him ... she imagined only magic in the
prospect of entering Jimmy’s lair.

There were other students from the school, swarming around Jimmy’s house, when
Martha and Angela arrived. It was the trend that year for many of the girls, including Angela, to dress as ballerinas. It made them feel attractive and beautiful, like the women each of them wished to become.

Martha didn’t feel right dressing up as a ballerina. Wouldn’t it be ludicrous to look like a nimble dancer if she could not dance, let alone stand? Martha wore nondescript black clothes and an exotic mask, adorned with sequins and feathers.

Just as Angie had suggested, Martha glided through Jimmy’s front door with ease, then there was a roadblock. The party was upstairs on the second floor.

“Maybe I can get them to bring the party downstairs. Wait here,” Angela
said, as she ascended the stairs. Martha waited and waited in the living room. Unfortunately, everything was pre-arranged for an upstairs gathering, so Angela was not
able to motivate the partygoers to come down for just one person, and no one had been prepared to carry a disabled girl in a wheelchair up the stairs to join the party.

Someone heedlessly rushed past Martha and toward the stairs, wearing a Frankenstein mask. When this person shouted at a friend, Martha realized it was Jimmy behind the mask. Was she in such a complete disguise that he didn’t recognize her? She didn’t think her costume was that concealing since anyone who knew her could not be fooled by a mask or outfit, which did little to hide her thin legs and cumbersome chair. There were not too many other people with disabilities of her age in town, so she was always recognizable.

An older woman, dressed as a ballerina, like many of the younger girls, appeared from the kitchen. She was one of the most striking people Martha had ever seen. Her black hair was long and glossy. She had a rigid, severe beauty.

“Do you need any help?” she asked Martha.
“No, I’m just waiting for my friend.”
“Here, have some candy.”
“No thanks. I don’t feel like any. That ballerina costume is the nicest I’ve
seen anyone wear this Halloween.”
“Actually, I am a ballerina. I teach dancing at the community school. I
don’t think I introduced myself. I’m Jimmy’s mom.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Why aren’t you with everyone else?”
“They’re having the party upstairs. My friend is trying to get them to come
down.”
“Come to the TV room in the back. Maybe we can bring everyone there. Are
you sure you don’t want anything? I have cookies, cake, and all sorts of
chocolate bars. I need to stay thin so I shouldn’t eat any of them myself.”
“No, it’s okay.”

Martha followed the dazzling ballerina to the TV room. No wonder Jimmy was
so enchanting with this lady for his mother.

“Let me go see if I can talk to Jimmy. I’ll get him to come downstairs and
say hello. I apologize that he’s been very rude. He didn’t mean it.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“No, I want to.” Before Martha could prevent her, the ballerina left the
room. Martha heard her light footsteps as she almost floated up the stairs.
Soon, Martha heard whispering voices in the hallway.
“What have I always told you about being thoughtful about people less
fortunate than ourselves?” the ballerina chided her son.
“But Mom, I didn’t invite her. I knew it would be difficult for her to
come.”

Soon Jimmy appeared in the doorway and removed his Frankenstein mask.
“Hi,” he waved into the room and then turned away, but his mother motioned him
back. Irritated with his mother’s interference, he brusquely entered the
room and abruptly sat on the couch, nervously playing with his mask.
“I’m sorry I can’t get everyone to come downstairs. We set up all the food
and games upstairs and didn’t think you were coming.”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
“I’ve got to go back upstairs now. Here’s the remote control if you want to
watch anything on TV. See you tomorrow at school.” After those few words, he left. For some reason, Martha was not sad.

Martha was not alone for long. The ballerina returned, wanting to be
gracious to the unexpected guest. She again apologized for her son’s rudeness.

For the next hour, Martha discussed the art of ballet with Jimmy’s mom, the
only person whose costume reflected her reality. The ballerina’s black hair hugged her shoulders as she smiled and agreed to reveal the true secrets of dancing legends to the girl seated in the chair. She demonstrated some of the most exquisite motions and poses, balancing on her toes while reaching into the air, with a grace that extended to the tips of
her fingers.

Martha followed the tracings of the fingers and gold-plotted foot patterns of the pirouette’s left by Jimmy’s mom and wished she could be just as beautiful. Was it wrong to long for something one could never have? Does everyone want something they can’t have?

The ballerina explained that part of the beauty of dance comes from realizing how precariously the ideal state, of mind or body, is maintained. The ballerina’s opinion was that the art of ballet expresses most profoundly the ephemeral nature of life, emotions, and abilities.

Ballet may showcase the glories of perfection, but it also shows the poignancy of straining for seemingly impossible gestures, despite human limitations. Yet what are limitations, but the fuel for our dreams? Without limitations, everything and anything would be possible and the ballet would be just a way to walk.

Louise Norlie has written a number of short stories and is working on her first novel. She is published in Ragged Edge Magazine and Runes Magazine.