Everybody Has Everything

“You know what? I can’t talk right now—”

“Don’t you want to hear what it’s about? You’ll love this—”

James stopped him. “I’m picking up my—I’m picking up Fi

Fi

“Camera!” he called, pointing at the camera. James took his hand. They walked along the street quietly.

After a block, James said: “You know, I used to have a job. That’s a little factoid about me that you may not know.” He cautioned Fi

“I don’t know if I really want that job anymore. But today I was thinking: A camera is a very useful thing. Beautiful even. And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather make a movie with. Do you want to make a movie?”

Fi

“Let’s make a movie,” said James.

All the way home, James took footage of Fi

But when they got to the park, Fi

“What now?” he said.

James put the camera down on a picnic table and stood next to Fi

“Now this!” And James beat his chest and began yelling up to the sky. “RARARRARA!” A few trick-or-treaters ran past, giggling, trailed by a mother who glanced at James nervously. James jumped up and down. “RARARARARRR!” he screamed. He made gorilla sounds, scratching his armpits and leaping in the air. Fi

Halloween Night

IT HAPPENED BECAUSE the door was open. The sun had just set and the trick-or-treaters arrived immediately, released with the darkness. A baby butterfly in the arms of her father. A trio of Chinese kids on the verge of adolescence who hadn’t bothered with costumes.

“Do a trick,” James demanded. The kids looked at him blankly. Finally, the tallest one began singing “Happy Birthday” in a thick accent. James cut him off.

“Never mind. Forget it.” James handed each of them two miniature chocolate bars from a blue glass bowl.

The doorbell kept ringing. James decided to prop it open with a chair, leaving the bowl of candy on top.

“Ready!” said Fi

“I’ve got to take a leak. I’ll be right back,” said James.

Fi

“Ready, Freddy? Let’s get some loot!” He emerged into the living room to find the white leather couch empty.

“Fi

James shoved past him and onto the porch.

“Trick—”

“Just take it,” said James. He looked down at a mother on the sidewalk.

“Did you see a panda? I can’t find my—there’s a boy—he’s two—” The woman shook her head.

“Your son?”

James didn’t answer. “He’s in a panda costume—” James said this as he walked backward into the house. “Fi

“When did you last see him?” she called to James, who had sprinted up the staircase. The woman crouched down, checking under the couch. Spider-Man, a few years older than Fi

“I’ll check the basement. Is your wife here?” the woman called up the stairs. James peered down at her, a stranger with a kind, unyielding look, the firmness of a beloved librarian.

“She’s on her way home from work. Yes, yes, check the basement.”

She did that, too—How long? How long these footsteps?—and returned to the main floor.

“Upstairs again,” said James. He led her up to the long, dark floors of the hall, into the white bedroom.

The woman said: “You have a beautiful home. It’s so clean!” Then she put her hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”

“It’s fine.” James had a sensation in his stomach of bread leavening, something expanding, moving up into his chest.

Spider-Man followed, homing in on the guest bedroom that was only half transformed into a child’s room. He picked up Fi

“I’m calling my husband,” she said, pulling a cell phone from her jacket.

James nodded. Fi

James ran outside, jogged up the street calling: “Fi

James ran back to his porch, certain Fi

“My wife called me,” he said.

A stream of fairies and princesses moved up the stairs. The sun had set now; the sky was black. The trick-or-treaters wore bright armbands on their wrists and ankles. Some waved glow sticks, artifacts from parties James had once attended. Spider-Man passed out candy from Ana’s bowl.

James could not meet Chuckles’s eyes. He began to speak, tumbling: “He was here. I went to the bathroom—”

“Do you have a picture?”

James nodded. He floated up to the guest room and took the photo of Fi

Chuckles said nothing about the parents in the picture.

“My buddy’s a cop. Hang on.” He dialed his cell phone, speaking into the earpiece that was permanently clipped to his skull like a hearing aid.

On the street, Sandra Pereira, whom James now knew to be Chuckles’s wife, was standing at the center of a circle of adults. Chuckles handed her the photo. They glanced back at James, fear bouncing back and forth between them. They looked focused, ready, as if they had been practicing for this. Sandra returned to James on the porch and drilled him: What was Fi