Happy Haunted Halloween!

I have a sweet but slightly creepy haunted Halloween story for you, and this one is true. It just happened.

History first: My beloved stepfather passed away a year ago yesterday. My mother passed away a month and a half ago.

My mom was the epitome of the Wicked Stepmother in stories, shunning my stepdad's kids and being needlessly cruel to them when they had to be around her.

When my mom died, we, her bio kids, invited our stepsiblings to the house to go through their dad's personal effects. It was the first time they had been allowed to do so since his death, as my mom refused to let them in the home afterwards.

My dear stepsister, M, came with her kids and they got a few things right away. Just junk like a favorite sweatshirt, his framed law degree, stuff like that. She also made a "wish list" of a few collectibles that she knew were her dad's so that if they didn't need to be sold to cover mom's debt she might have them back. We said of course. She also asked that as I went through the house I set aside anything of historical interest to their side of the family - pictures, their dad's law archives, and so forth.

I did so, and today M stopped by again to pick up some boxes I had set aside for her. I found some AWESOME THINGS - I found an actual working slide projector (google it, zoomers) with boxes of slides from dad's family dating back to the 60's. I found his old portable manual typewriter which he bought to use in college and law school, in perfect condition. I found a box of M's and her brother's baby artifacts, like bronzed baby shoes and baptismal outfits. All of this was buried in a dark corner of the basement where my mom was not likely to find and eradicate it.

So my other sister L was exposed to Covid Wednesday, which means so was I because we have been working on the house together. So this visit was a little tougher. M and I couldn't really hang out, just get the stuff and go.

For distancing, I set all of the things I found in the entry of the house. M came and began moving them to her car while I sat 15 feet away in the kitchen. We chatted, she would pause between boxes and share stories. This is very likely the last time she will visit her dad's house as it is being sold as soon as possible. So a lot of emotion, and lots of little anecdotes were being passed back and forth.

I randomly asked her a question. I said "hey I noticed that last time you were here a month ago, you went straight to the fridge and said very loudly 'I am going to get myself a BEVERAGE.' I am really curious - was my mom so mean to you guys that she made you ask permission to get yourselves a drink when you visited your own dad's house? Is that why you did that?"

She said "yes. She got so angry at us, and constantly said that Polite Guests Wait To Be Offered".

I said "well that is shitty and she was wrong, and I am so sorry. I knew she was horrible to you but that level of petty reminders of who was in charge was just straight up vicious. I want you to know that when you visit me at my house, you can get yourself any damn thing you want from the fridge." And of course she said "Same!"

As she took the last load of stuff out to her car, as a joke I went to the fridge, got a Coke, wiped the place I touched with hand sanitizer, and set it on the hallway console table for her. No idea why, really. Just had a sudden urge to do that little stupid thing in light of our conversation. It is also worth noting I literally NEVER keep soda in the fridge for myself, because it is not a Healthy Beverage and I love it too much to be trusted with it. I ordered some last week though from instacart while I was buying the halloween candy to give out (also stepdad related but another story) So I should not have had Coke ready, but I did.

She came back in, and I pointed to the can and said "HAVE A DAMN COKE, even though you didn't ASK FOR IT."

She picked it up, and her face just...changed. It crumbled behind her mask, her eyes filled with tears, and she whispered, "My dad always gave me a Coke as I was leaving his house."

I felt such a shiver, kids, you do not even know.

We talked, we cried, we just stood there staring at a can of Coca-Cola like a pair of confused flamingos.

I had never in my life heard of their little tradition, because it was a secret just between the two of them. I should not have had that Coke to give her, because I never buy it or keep it in the house. It was always Coke that her dad gave her, not the Sprite or Mountain Dew I USUALLY treat myself with on the rare occasions I drink soda at all. And he always snuck it to her very last thing before she left, with a wink and a "don't tell your stepmother you didn't ask."

So there's my ghost story. Today, my dear stepfather gave his real daughter one last secret Coke as a Halloween gift. And I was his hands.