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Mara hated Halloween. She hated making costumes for her three unruly kids, hated standing in the cold while they ran from house to house, hated the three days of sugar highs and tantrums that followed.

Even before their good-for-nothing sperm-donor of a father had left, she’d never had any help with them on the holidays, always had to drag her ass out after a ten-hour shift at the nursing home.

Her feet ached, and her hands were full of bags of candy so she hadn’t been able to have a smoke in three blocks.

The kids had run ahead, eager to get home to sort their candy, but they had paused in front of the neighbour’s house. She glanced at the driveway and her steps faltered.

Cary was back.

She’d fallen into bed with him several times over the years, and while it made her cheeks flame to think about it, not all of them had been after Darryl had left her.

The first time had been shortly after they’d moved in. She’d been hunched over her failed attempt at an herb garden, lamenting ever having let Darryl convince her that she’d like the suburbs. She hated growing things, hated cutting the grass, hated the dirt under her fingernails. She was a personal support worker and a full-time mother and already spent every waking second taking care of people – the yard just felt like more things depending on her to stay alive, sucking the life right out of her.

Cary had swaggered over in an oil-stained t-shirt and bare feet, a joint hanging out of his mouth, looking like he’d stepped right out of the pages of The Outsiders.

He’d fucked her against the garden shed and her dirty hands had left grass stains on the back of his shirt.

There was some kind of standoff happening in the driveway and Mara quickened her pace, feeling a fight in the air. She could sense a backhand brewing from a mile away thanks to Darryl and wanted to usher the kids inside.

Laney, his little sister – she assumed anyway, they’d never done much talking – was standing between Cary and the tall, serious-looking teenager who’d been hanging around for weeks.

As she hustled the kids on by, it occurred to her that it was an odd sort of tension. It reminded her of how Darryl was, once upon a time, when his buddies would talk to her alone. Jealous.

Only the jealousy wasn’t coming from the boy. He seemed tense, maybe a little confused, and worried. Definitely worried.

The jealousy was coming from Cary. It was rolling off him in waves, plain as day.

She quickened the pace and ushered the kids along home. Good as Cary was in bed, she was no fool. She could always sense a backhand.