Holiday History

by Heidi Champa

  Holiday History

  It is amazing how quickly your life can change. Just two short years ago, I was getting ready to end my junior year of college. I picked out all the senior history classes I wanted to take. The school was letting me design my own major, and I was focusing all my time on nautical history. After the semester, I was ready for a nice, long summer break sailing on the lake with my boyfriend, Brian.

  I aced my finals, getting better grades than I expected. Brian and I were spending every spare moment screwing in his dorm bed, not wanting to be apart for a second. I was practically singing as I went to register for my fall classes.

  The song died in my throat when they informed me my tuition was still unpaid. I knew if I waited too long, all the good classes would be closed, so I went straight to the business office to clear things up. I was pissed and ready to invoke the name of my rich father to get things worked out. Instead, I found out my father failed to send the fat check on time, and I was shit out of luck.

  It turned out that my perfect, rich family was falling apart. My perfect father had managed to gamble through his stock portfolio and my entire college fund. Despite the lack of money, however, I didn’t qualify for financial aid. Even with the losses, my family was worth too much. All the houses, holdings, and a big damn boat meant we were still rich. My parents’ quickie divorce became final a few months later, and after Brian found out he would soon be fucking a townie, he dumped me. His attraction disappeared as fast as the rest of my rich friends did. I was on my own.

  Until I met Tim.

  * * *

  A light snow fell out of the grey sky. I pried open the can for my latest job. More beige paint. Everyone loved beige paint. Of all the colors in the world, I couldn’t believe that people chose it for their homes. Sometimes, we would get lucky and have some blues or greens, but most of the time it was boring beige. That was my job—turning a white room into a slightly less white room. But painting paid the bills, for now.

  Most of the time, it was just Tim and me working. He hired me despite the fact that I had been to college. He didn’t think too much of college types, even ones like me who hadn’t made it through. I think he hired me out of pity, and I was happy to exploit that fact every chance I got. He left me alone a lot, because I showed up on time and didn’t fuck up too often. It seemed like a small thing, but to Tim, I may as well have been the smartest guy around. There were a few other painters who would breeze through from time to time, but I was the only full-time person Tim would allow. As I said, pity could be a powerful thing.

  “Hey, kid, do you have those extra rollers, or did I leave them in the truck?”

  “I think they’re in the truck, Tim.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there, go get them. I’m not paying you to stand around.”

  “Mixing paint isn’t standing around. But I get your point. I’ll go.”

  When I got back inside the house, Tim was on the phone, jotting down information for another job. Before he had the chance to yell at me again, I headed to the dining room. I stood and stared at the walls, shaking my head in disbelief. They were already beige. And, save for a few tiny scuffmarks near the baseboards, the room was immaculate. I could never understand why people would pay someone good money to paint a whole room when they could fix the problem with a sponge and some soap. Just as I started the work, Tim came in.

  “Hey, kid. Good news. We finally have a job that’s going to pay some decent money. I just got off the phone with some guy who wants his whole house painted before the holidays. Isn’t that great?”

  “Yeah, Tim. God, that sounds like a dream come true. I can’t wait.”

  “Have I ever mentioned that nobody likes a smartass?”

  “You may have said something about it before.”

  “I’m just saying, the more money I get, the more money you get. You remember how that works. Lord knows I could use the boost after all the money Margie spent on presents this year.”

  “Sorry, Tim. That’s great news.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that, because it’s just going to be you and me this time. I can’t get anyone else out on short notice. The rest of the guys are going away for Christmas. I know you don’t have any place to go, so I’m going to make it worth your while.”

  “Gee, thanks. Glad my ruined family could be a help to you during the holidays. How big is this house?”

  “Pretty big, I think. Look, kid, we can do it. Besides, you said you needed the money. Now, quit whining and get back to work, we have to finish this place up today.”

  “Oh, Tim. I do love your Christmas spirit.”

  * * *

  As Tim turned the truck up the snow-lined road to Waldorf Hills, I held my breath. We didn’t get that much work up here, and I was glad. I hated working for stuck-up rich people. They were the ones who would stay home all day to watch you just to make sure you didn’t steal anything or forget to put down a coaster. It reminded me of all the things I hated about my childhood, all the things I tried to forget. Waldorf Hills was out of our usual territory, but Tim did say the house was big. And the only kind of house up in Waldorf Hills was the big kind. We passed giant house after giant house, winding around until we came to a wooded driveway.

  “God, where the hell is this place?”

  I looked down at the directions between us and made sure we were in the right place. The sign at the end of the driveway said 625. This was it. Tim pulled into the narrow entrance, muttering under his breath. After winding around for another few minutes, the trees finally cleared. A perfect Craftsman house came into view. There was a detached garage with a tarp-covered boat parked next to it. I swallowed, wondering what Tim had gotten us into. The house was large, but not nearly as large as most in the neighborhood. It still would be a lot of work. Tim brought the truck to a stop and reluctantly got out. Christmas lights adorned the giant cedar trees in front; a big evergreen wreath hung on the door. It looked like the cover of a Christmas card with the snow framing everything in pristine white.

  “Now, let me do the talking, kid. This guy doesn’t want to hear any of your nonsense. And by the way, if you do anything to fuck this up, you’re fired. I can’t afford to lose this guy’s business. And don’t think I won’t do it because it’s almost Christmas.”

  I didn’t need to answer; I knew what he meant. I’d watched Tim fire people before. It wasn’t pretty. For my own sake, I would just keep my head down and paint. This job was the only thing I had going, God help me. It being Christmas was the last of my worries. I had barely registered the holidays. It’s not like I had a lot to celebrate the past few years anyway.

  “Get the supplies, and remember, keep that smart mouth shut.”

  While I dug in the back of the truck for the rollers and tarps, I heard the front door open and slam shut. For a moment, I was frozen. The guy walking toward Tim couldn’t have been more than ten years older than me. I was expecting some old money guy living it up in his retirement. Instead this guy was what I probably would have turned into, had my father not been a degenerate gambler. More important than his age, he was cute. I was busy staring at his legs in his khaki shorts when Tim’s voice ruined the moment. It seemed odd to me that the guy would wear shorts in the winter, but I certainly appreciated it.

  “Hi. You must be Mr. Jordan. I’m Tim. We spoke on the phone.”

  “It’s Gary, please. Come on in. I’ll show you what needs to be done.”

  Before I could stop myself, I was disobeying Tim’s orders.

  “Great house. I love Craftsman. ”

  Tim and Gary both turned and looked at me. Tim looked ready to blow but held it in.

  “Thanks. I’ve done most of the work myself.”

  “I used to live in one,
when I was young. I’ve always been partial to them.”

  Gary grinned, but I couldn’t read his face. I didn’t know if he was humoring me or being genuine. He came toward me, passing by a stunned Tim.

  “Glad you like it. I’m partial to it too. Shall we go in?”

  Tim didn’t bother to growl at me; he just motioned for me to follow him. He really was trying to impress this guy. Usually he would have barked at me to hurry up and get the shit inside. It was amazing what a little extra cash could do to Tim’s attitude. I set the supplies inside the door and followed behind them, not really listening. In addition to having nice legs, Gary also had great shoulders. I watched them move as he pointed out each room in the house.

  I should have been listening to what he wanted, but I couldn’t focus. This time I was admiring his profile. His dark hair curled slightly behind his ears. It seemed out of place, like he was a few weeks late for his haircut. Distracted by his strong jaw line, I nearly ran into both of them when we came to a stop by a closed door.

  “This is the only room that doesn’t need paint. It’s my office. I’m content with it being a terrible mess right now. So other than that, do you have any questions, Tim?”

  “No, Gary, I don’t. We’ll get started right away and be out of your hair in no time.”

  For the first time on the tour, Gary turned around and looked at me. God, his eyes were so green. We all stood there; no one sure what to say next.

  “So, Tim, who have you brought with you today?”

  “Sorry, Gary. This is Kevin. He works for me.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  His extended hand surprised me. Most rich people didn’t want to shake hands with the help. Or, for that matter, care what their names were. I took his hand, relishing his strong grip.

  “You too.”

  Suddenly I was nervous. Tim looked at me with narrow eyes, and I took my chance to get away.

  “Well, I’m going to get started downstairs.”

  Turning down the hall, I secretly hoped that Gary would say something to me before I left. Instead, they started chatting about property values as I headed for the dining room.

  * * *

  By the time lunch rolled around, the dining room was finished and I had moved onto the kitchen. Before I started to paint, I went outside and took a moment to admire the view from the deck. It faced the edge of Lake George. From the look of it, his was the smallest house on the water. There was some residual snow clinging to the small dock that stretched out into the water. The day was cloudy and grey, but somehow it looked less bleak from Gary’s kitchen. He had some view. I wondered again how much money this guy had. It was hard to fathom him mixing with people like my father. Hearing voices getting closer, I got back to work before Tim could catch me standing around.

  Stirring the paint, I waited for the beige color to come together, but instead, as the mixture of oil and pigment came into focus, a brilliant blue emerged. This guy was really starting to get to me. First yellow in the dining room, now blue in the kitchen. He was putting the rest of our clients to shame. Rich people were never this bold with color. They were the kings of beige. There was only one color in my mind now. Envy Green.

  As I edged by the window, I took a moment to admire the rippling water. It hadn’t been cold enough to freeze yet. The view was hard to ignore, and with Tim safely in the other room, I couldn’t resist a moment’s break. I forgot to put my hand under my brush and before I could stop it, blue paint dripped and splattered on the floor. Trying to retrieve a wet cloth to wipe up the mess, I accidentally picked up the dry one and managed to smear the stain into a bigger mess.

  “Shit. That’s just perfect.”

  “Well, I didn’t really want the floors done, but okay.”

  I looked up with a start and saw Gary standing by the door. He was smiling despite my messing up his floor. I scrambled to the sink and wet the rag so I could clean up the paint.

  “I’m really sorry. It will not happen again. I’ll clean it up.”

  “Don’t panic. It’s linoleum. It should come right off.”

  “Tim is going to kill me.”

  “Well, then, we just won’t tell him.”

  I turned to face him, surprised by his words. I’d had a few homeowners run to Tim at the first sign of trouble. He just smiled, his hands jammed into his pockets. God, he really was cute. His T-shirt clung to him, a bit too tight for his clearly muscled chest. He was rich, cute, and had a good body. It hardly seemed fair.

  “Thanks. He may not seem it, but Tim can be really tough.”

  “Hey, shit happens. There’s still a stain on my carpet from the first week I was here. Next time, you’ll have to put the brush down before you look out the window. I don’t blame you; it is a nice view.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him watching me. But then I remembered what Tim said to me about fucking things up. Gary caught me red-handed goofing off, and I quickly went into damage control.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to waste time, I just, well, I mean… never mind. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “It’s really okay. No harm done. Don’t worry about it. We all get distracted from time to time.”

  He looked me up and down, smiling before he walked out, leaving me dripping blue paint into my hands. On top of everything else, he was cool.

  * * *

  For the first time in recent memory, Tim didn’t spend the trip home balling me out for something. He just hummed along to the country song on the radio, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Okay, you are freaking me out. What is with you?”

  “Can’t a guy be happy?”

  “Not you, Tim. What, did you get lucky back there?”

  “I probably could have. I think he might bat for your team. Did you see the color he picked for the master bedroom?” Tim laughed at his own joke, but I wondered if he was right about Gary. Tim didn’t let my fantasy go on too long.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, kid. There was a picture of a pretty blonde on the mantle. A blonde with big tits.”

  “Oh well, I guess my quest for Prince Charming continues. So, seriously, why are you so happy? You didn’t even yell at me for speaking.”

  “Can’t a guy just have a good day? I’m gonna make a shit-ton of money on this job, and it’s meatloaf night. Not even your inane comments are going to get me down. You know what they say: it’s the little things.”

  I just laughed, not wanting to mess with Tim’s good mood. Despite my digs, I was jealous of his meatloaf nights. I sighed, thinking of the Ramen noodles I had waiting for me.

  * * *

  It was weird working with Tim when he was in such a good mood. The second day on the job, the humming continued. In fact, he was singing when we started the living room.

  “Good meatloaf?”

  “Shut up, kid.”

  “Oh come on, Tim, you can tell me. Margie put out last night or what?”

  “Damn it, Kevin. Don’t talk like that here. This isn’t just some job; this is important.”

  “Relax, Tim. He’s upstairs. And I’m sure he wouldn’t object to you getting some. Hell, I might have to call and thank Margie myself. You sure are a lot more pleasant today.”

  Tim wanted to yell at me, but at that moment Gary came into the room to save me.

  “Hey, Tim, could you spare Kevin for a moment? I wanted to talk to him about the bathroom.”

  “Sure thing, Gary.”

  Tim scowled at me as I walked down the hall with Gary. I had to laugh, forgetting my orders to be professional.

  “Something funny?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I was giving Tim a hard time before you came in.”

  “You two seem to get along okay. He doesn’t seem so tough.”

  “He’s just a little grumpy sometimes. He wants to impress you, and I have a tendency to say the wrong thing. He doesn’t want me to embarrass him.”

  “Something of a s
martass, are you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Let’s just say I know your type. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of smartasses.”

  “Well, thanks. I guess.”

  He looked at me over his shoulder as we entered the small guest bathroom. There wasn’t a lot of room to move, and I did everything in my power not to touch him. My pulse jumped just from being close to him even as I tried to calm myself down.

  “Anyway, I think the walls are in good shape, but this color is just all wrong. I really want the whole house to be right before everyone arrives.”

  “You have a big family?”

  I bit my tongue, breaking Tim’s rules yet again. I wasn’t supposed to make small talk. I was supposed to do my job. Wincing, I turned my head towards the faux-finished wall.

  “Yeah, kinda. It will be a full house. Everyone usually goes to my sister’s house, but they didn’t want me to be alone over the holidays.”

  “Why would you be alone?”

  His face dropped a bit, and I did my best to let him off the hook.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Jordan. Shit, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s none of my business. I’ll go get the paint and get started. Forget I said anything. It’s none of my business anyway. This is what Tim was talking about; I just don’t know when to shut up.”

  I turned, trying to get my head back in order. He shocked me when he grabbed my wrist. I reluctantly looked up at him. His eyes were still dark.

  “It’s okay, Kevin. I just got out of a serious relationship, about nine months ago. My family means well, but they are going a little overboard this Christmas. They’re all coming here to make sure I’m okay. They didn’t come right out and say it, but that’s what they’re doing. So, I needed to clean this place up a bit. Prove to them I’m not wallowing. I let it go way too long.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Jordan.”

  “It’s Gary, please.”

  “Gary.”

  I don’t know why I repeated his name. My voice cracked; my throat desiccated. It was at that moment that I realized he was still touching me. His thumb felt heavy and hot on the inside of my wrist. He leaned in toward me by a fraction, his lips slightly parted. I looked down at his hand, and he let go. Nothing so simple had ever had such a profound effect on me.