xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
He’d picked the design, tracing it onto the pumpkin for his parents to take turns carving over the next hour. Some years he’d go with a pop culture reference, Stranger Things was a fun couple of years of designs. Leo had tried convincing his parents to do a Tiger King themed pumpkin, but they didn’t want to associate the show with their image. Instead Leo had opted for a harvest theme with an ornate designs of foliage to be carved at different depths to play with the light. It was a classic country design that the judges just ate up. Leo free handed most of it, he’d always had superior spatial reasoning.
“Alright, I think that’s it.” Leo said after some time, using the pumpkin to counterbalance his weight as he stood and leaned back to crack his back. His shoulders were stiff from leaning over for so long, he rotated his neck until he heard his joints click from the motion. His dad took the pumpkin, the other still arranging their tools.
“Stop fussing over the station, Michael. We have forty-five minutes.” His dad said. Leo resisted the urge to roll his eyes, already the competitiveness was surfacing. He scratched the back of his neck, his already mussed hair ruffled askew. His dad set down he pumpkin, Michael taking it and beginning to carve stale-faced without another word.
“You wanna hang around kid?” His dad asked him, reaching to smooth the back of Leo’s hair.
“Yeah, I was going to check out some of the vendors but I’ll be back before the judges come around.” Leo assured him, knowing his dads would want him around for pictures.
“You don’t want something to eat?” His dad asked.
“Nah, I’m not hungry.”
“You sure? There’s a place that has a whole turkey leg, or maybe a pumpkin pie?”
“That sound’s good. Maybe we can get one all together later?” Leo was expert in dodging the subtle manipulation to eat. His medicine gave him a low appetite, something that his dad thought gave him reason enough to monitor Leo’s eating.
Michael looked up from the pumpkin he was carving, sensing the tension. “Ray will you take over? I need to find my rubber tipped gloves.”
Leo gave his dad, Michael, an expression of gratitude – taking the distraction and ducking out the moment Ray had his back turned and disappearing into the crowd. It’d been years since he had been to a Harvest Fest with Elle, but still it was hard to walk through it without thinking of her. Memories of celebrating her birthday came in with the Autumn breeze. There were always reasons to remember her. She was in the touch of fresh fallen snow, the smell of fresh Spring rain, the warmth of Summer sun. There was no part of his life she hadn’t touched.
Leo tensed, his body’s rhythm sensing the oncoming alarm. His watch beeped, his hand already reaching to silence it. He pulled a small pill box from his pocket. His dad Ray would arrange his medicine every Sunday night. They had a set of seven small pill boxes that each had two compartments, one for morning one for night for each day of the week. It was small enough to fit into his pocket, he’d grab a new one every day. It had all become so apart of his daily life he barely registered when he was doing it now. He didn’t even need water to get down the pills, just swallowed them dry.
He’d been walking around for nearly half an hour and barely took in any of his surroundings. That’s how he spent a lot of his time, on auto-pilot. It seemed to be better than whatever he was before, or at least that’s what the people around him said. He could see people grouping around a hot apple cider stand, deciding he’d grab some for him and his dads before he headed back to the pumpkin carving. A flash of silver caught his eye, Leo doing a double take for a moment certain that he saw someone he hadn’t – couldn’t. He furrowed his brow, wondering when was the last time Soren had ran through his mind.
“Here’s your ciders!” Said the peppy worker, handing him a drink tray with three cups of cider.
“Thanks.” He said, shoving a few stray dollars into the tip jar as he took the ciders and headed back towards pumpkin carving area.