Page 52 of The Singing Trees
“Compared to back home in Payton Mills, there is. I just graduated and have been planning this move for a long time.”Ever since my parents died and I left Bangor,she thought.
“You’re young. I don’t want parties up there. If you’re looking to bring home a big swath of your loony tune friends and make a bunch of racket, it’s not the right place for you. I live on the second floor right below, and I won’t have it.”
Annalisa told him that she was laser focused on honing her craft and wasn’t interested in late nights or partying.
“Fair enough,” Mr.Burzinski said, finally looking at her for more than a second. “I think I’ve priced the place fairly. I won’t put up with late rent. Where will you be working?”
“I’m not exactly sure yet, but I’ll have a job soon.” She listed some of the places she’d applied (Bernie’s, Benoit’s, Rines Bros....), and he looked at her skeptically. In that moment she recognized something wildly familiar in this man. He was cold, but he was warm, too, just like his shop was covered in a layer of dust but charming at the same time. Nonna was the same way. She could be intimidating but had a heart of gold. Annalisa did well with these kinds of people and decided to push him.
“I’ll be a great tenant, Mr.Burzinski.”
He didn’t respond, only kept working. She wondered how long he would continue this game. Little did he know, Nonna had practiced these same intimidation tactics, so Annalisa could wait in the uncomfortable silence all day long if she had to.
Just as she dug for her confidence, the shop came alive in a cacophony of sounds. The clocks had struck noon, and cuckoo birds pokedout of their holes to chirp, and the grandfather and grandmother clocks clanged, and the other clocks on the walls chimed and pinged and dinged. Annalisa spun her head around, drinking in the magic of this place. Mr.Burzinski was a grumpy old watchmaker from a fairy tale, and he had a shop that sang at noon.
When his clocks had quieted, she said, “I’ve never even imagined such a thing. That was...wonderful.”
Ignoring her, he said, “Rent’s seventy dollars a month. I’ll need first and last month’s, a security deposit, and a one-year commitment.”
There went all her money for art classes, Annalisa thought. An hour in the city and she was already broke. She knew what he was charging for rent but hadn’t anticipated the additional asks. She wondered if she should mention the car she’d hit. God, she didn’t want to lose this place. The location was dreamy. “Mr.Burzinski, here’s the thing. I just got in a wreck.”
He looked at her. “A wreck?”
Talking with her hands, she said, “Well, I backed into an expensive-looking car and messed up the back end. Not that it’s anything you need to worry about, but I have to get it fixed. My...my friend who loaned it to me loves that car. So would you please allow me to only pay the first month’s rent for now?”
He gave a look like she’d just asked him if she could live for free.
“I am incredibly hardworking,” she assured him. “I don’t know how much getting his car fixed will cost, but I need to do that before he comes home from Fort Dix. If you’ll give me a little leeway, I’ll find a job as quickly as humanly possible and give you every dime I can until we’re square. This is the perfect location and price.” The truth was it was theonlyplace she’d found that was affordable near Congress Street.
“I don’t even need to see it,” she said desperately. “I just need a break right now. Please. I’m quiet, respectful—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “And verbose, no doubt. Take a deep breath, young lady.” As she followed his suggestion, he continued,“Why the desperate need to get out of Payton Mills? Can’t you paint there?”
She thought about her response carefully as she set a hand on the counter by the register. “Because this is where it all happens. For a girl who grew up in Bangor and Payton Mills, Portland is the big city. This is where the artists are, the galleries, the teachers. The museum. I can’t become the artist I want to be in Payton Mills. It doesn’t inspire me.”
He gave a closemouthed chuckle. “Well, you sure make it hard to say no. You’d be a good saleswoman.”
Annalisa said a quick prayer, hoping he would give her a chance.
Mr.Burzinski put down the watch and reached for one of the keys on the wall behind him. “The place is yours if you want it, but I’ll expect you to make good on your word.”
“Yes, I will,” Annalisa said, wishing her mother were there to see her now.
He led her out of the shop, and they walked toward the side of the building. “I hope the driver of that Plymouth doesn’t kill me,” Annalisa said. “I left a note and—”
Mr.Burzinski froze. “You hit a Plymouth?”
“A very nice and polished one too. I put a big scratch on the bumper. Oh God, I was nervous and people were honking and—”
“A blue Belvedere? On Congress?”
“Yes, Mr.Burzinski.”
The realization struck her a second before he spat, “That’s my car you hit.”
“No.” Her throat tightened. She wanted to run away, to disappear.
Without another word, he marched toward the accident. She ran to catch up with him. “This can’t be happening.”
