Page 8 of Something to Talk About

“Lennie, are you coming?” I’m shaken out of my stupor.

“Yep!” I hustle through the entryway, close the door behind me, and move toward the bedroom.

“Hey, what did you say my neighbor’s name is?” I ask Russell when I’m at the doorway. The color on the wall is absolutely stunning, a deep shade of mauve, and I’m absolutely in awe. “Holy crap, never did I think it would look this amazing,” I say before he can answer my question. This isn’t just a small strip painted either; it’s nearly the whole wall done where my bed will be. The dark walnut four-poster bed with intricate detailing is really going to pop.

“Asher. He’s a firefighter. Works locally and seems like an all-around good fella,” Russell says with a note of pride in his voice. It’s usually Catherine who’s the matchmaker, or so says the gossip given to me from Minnie. I’m wondering if it isn’t actually the man of the family.

“It’s beautiful. Now I think we should paint the ceilings, too. What are your thoughts?” Catherine interjects. The ceilings are eight feet tall throughout the entire house. Usually, you’d be worried about the dark color making it seem like it would be too closed off, yet given the number of windows throughout, I think it would really work.

“I haven’t met him yet, only seen him a few times now. I’llhave to walk over once the dust has settled.” Russell grins at my response.

“Well, I most certainly approve.” I look from the walls to Momma Catherine, my eyes bulging out of their sockets. The ink on my divorce papers is barely dry. It might have been months in the making, living, sleeping, and eating alone. Still.

What would people say?

Am I even healed enough to contemplate something romantic?

And last of all, not least, is would I want to get entangled with my next-door neighbor?

“I’m old, not dead, honey. I’ve got boys. All of them are taken, or I’d have set you up with one of them. Though, I do love my girls, too, so maybe not. Anyways, I think it’d be a great idea if you walked over there and said hello.” She walks toward the brush and paint bucket. Russel anticipates her move and holds on to the small stepladder as she goes about showing me what the ceiling would look like with one thick stroke.

“We’ll see. I’m thinking he’s taken. A little girl is with him, and I heard them talk about her mom.” I shrug my shoulders.

“Still wouldn’t hurt, sugar,” Russel says as his hand holds Catherine’s hip.

“All one color, right?” She looks down at me.

“Yes, especially in this room. The other living areas I think we’ll stick with the cream color for walls and ceilings.” As much as I’d love a moodier color, I’m worried I’ll feel claustrophobic once all the furniture is in place.

“I agree. The other bedroom you could do something like this, if you want.” My room is the only one I splurged on, wanting to go with a different color from the soft cream, minus a yellow undertone, in order for it not to clash with the original wood throughout the house.

“Maybe. For now, I’d just do what needs to be done. I can always go back later.” Everyone agrees. I dive in to help them work, no matter what they say. Two people rolling and one cutting in will surely cut the time in half.

“I can go along with that,” Russel says, going about getting his roller that’s coated in paint. I follow his lead, doing the same minus the extension part. I’ll go low, he can do the higher parts, and Catherine can cut in the room. Our time is dwindling down, and I’d love nothing more than for them to get back to their hotel at an earlier time than last night. As for me, I’m going to start working on the rest of the place tonight. I’m still getting used to all the noises in the house, meaning sleep is not coming easily. I’d much rather work than spend my time in a bed tossing and turning. The last time I moved, it took me nearly a week to get adjusted. I really don’t want it to take that long this time around. Plus, in a few short days, I’ll be working an eight-to-five Monday-through-Friday job, and I’ll need my sleep to stay sharp as a tack.

I still don’t know what I was thinking.

New town.

New house.

New job.

“So, about the new neighbor. When will you introduce yourself?” Catherine asks when I’m nearly done rolling thebottom half of one wall. The only background noises are the soft rock and roll music coming from the radio and the whir of brushes and rolls.

“That didn’t take you long, honey,” Russell says while continuing painting.

“Smooth, Momma Catherine, very, very smooth.” I have to stop my painting as my shoulders quake with laughter.

“Well, when are you?” she questions again.

“Obviously not right now,” I answer.

“Why not? There’s no time like the present,” she offers.

“Well, there are a few reasons. One, I stink. Two, I’m painting. Three, there’s a little girl there, and while she may be his daughter or not, the last thing I want to do is interrupt their time together.”

“Makes sense to me. There’s always tomorrow, Lennie.” Russell nods, then returns to his task.

---