The Kitchen Shrink

by Dee Detarsio

  I ran back to the paint samples. I frantically searched for a couple of less bright reds. Who was I kidding? They were all less bright. Then I grabbed a couple of nice, neutral sands, tans and beiges. I went to show Elgin. “Look, Elgin. Let’s just tone it down. See, look at this. Pretty, huh? I think this would look good with the cabinets.” I switched it up and showed him the taupe sample. “Or, we could go a whole different direction, look how great this would make the cabinets pop.” His eyelid didn’t even flicker as he pretended not to see the Harmonic Tan paint chip color I was waving in front of his face.

  He ignored me. He picked up some blue painter’s tape, debated on plastic gloves, then must have decided ‘who cares’ since the show was paying for everything and added them to his orange cart. He was walking away from me.

  “Elgin. Stop it, right now. I care. OK? I care about my kitchen.” If they wanted drama I could give them a little Home Depot meltdown. I looked back at Sam who nodded to me. He was the one who told me I should just go over the top. Since I was genuinely pissed, it didn’t take much to spur me into action. I ran in front of Elgin and climbed into his cart. I stood up, facing him and raised my voice to my very last nerve octave.

  “We are not painting the kitchen red,” I screamed so loud I made a little boy down the aisle cry. I grabbed the extension pole Elgin had put in the cart and started poking him with it. “Do you hear me?”

  “You getting this, Sam?” was all Elgin said.

  “I mean it,” I said. “This is serious. Elgin, think about it. Red?” I held my hands out for a couple of beats. “Teal? It just doesn’t work. It will look like some freaking Florida Christmas pageant, or something.”

  Elgin jerked his head toward the paint mixer where Bill was pushing alarmingly bright colors into the smooth white paint. “Zeal?” Elgin said, then he flicked a beige paint sample out of my hand, “or no zeal?”

  “NO ZEAL,” I said, begged and pleaded. “No zeal.”

  “Ma’am,” Bill had come over the counter. “I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the cart and lower your voice. You’re scaring our customers.”

  “I’m not getting out of here until we pick a different color.” Elgin and I had a staring contest. I thought I was winning until Elgin said, in full Latino expression, slashing his words like a whip, “Rrrrrojjjjjoo Ha.”

  I tried one more tactic. “Elgin. You are such an amazing designer and the kitchen is gorgeous, and you know it. Let your design show through and don’t muck it up with this color. Rojo Ha will be all anyone can see.”

  “Ma’am,” Bill said, “step out of the cart.”

  I started stomping my feet as I held on to the sides of the cart and raised my voice in a closing hymn. “Do you want to be judged by the color of my kitchen? Do you?”

  Elgin started pushing the cart. “People will talk, you know how they are.”

  Elgin just started pushing the cart faster. But I held on tighter. “You know I’m right,” I yelled. He was nearly running and was almost to the end of the aisle when he came to a sharp halt. I almost fell but that didn’t matter since Bill’s buddy, I never did get his name, grabbed me and lifted me out of the cart.

  When we got home, Elgin made me do an interview. “So,” he asked me, “what was it like being thrown out of your neighborhood home improvement store?”

  I glared my eyes at him. “You were there, you tell me.”

  “It was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time,” he said. “The look on your face as the paint guy slung you over his shoulder like one of their oriental rugs was worth a thousand bucks.” He continued. “Your kicking foot knocking over the tile workshop display was worth twice that. And setting off the sensor as you were bodily carried out of the store because you had a fancy schmancy horsehair paintbrush in your hands? Priceless.” He had to wipe tears out of his eyes.

  I crossed my arms. “Are you finished?”

  “Love to hear your side, darling.”

  “No rebuttal.” I was embarrassed, I was mortified, but worse than that, I had lost. I didn’t get my way. And I dreaded what my beautiful kitchen would look like. I stood up. “You can take your Feng Shui…” They’d have to bleep out the rest.

  Chapter 16

  Fung Schway

  What’s a home improvement show without Feng Shui, the ancient art of harmony and balance, integrated into your surroundings? Feng Shui is like a house’s charisma. That indefinable something that you really notice when it’s not present. Like Daria’s house. She had enough furniture for two houses and I always told her, as I turned sideways to squeeze between the overstuffed chair and couch to get to my seat, she needed to downsize. Yeah, who was I to talk. She’d always point out my computer in my bedroom, Feng Shui 101 no-no.

  When Brett and I were still married he would always scatter the newspapers all over the countertops and wouldn’t let me throw them away until the next fresh newspaper arrived. It drove me crazy. So with me and Feng Shui, I could pretty much figure out what was wrong. Doing what was right was where I fell far short. That’s where Mai-Li came in. A darling almond-eyed petite woman who had silky black hair I wanted to play with. Her thick glossy tresses could have made thousands of the world’s most expensive paintbrushes. I was staring at her swishing locks when Elgin snapped his fingers in front of my face.

  “Snap out of it,” he said. “Go listen to what Marlene has to say.”

  “You mean Mai-Li?”

  “Right. And my name’s really Elgin.”

  “Her name’s really Marlene?” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” he told me, “but play along.”

  So Feng Shui must extend to names of people, places, things and hair conditioners. Cool.

  Mai-Li was a natural on camera. She explained the basics of the thousands of years old philosophy and told me I should practice it throughout my life.

  “You’ve heard of chi, right?” she asked me.

  Elgin interrupted her. “She’s heard of Cheetos, that’s for sure.”

  As I told him to shut up, Mai-Li raised her hand and swished her head, causing him to stop. I swear her hair had magical powers.

  “The nature that surrounds us is made up of chi, the life force. You’ve felt spiritual energy before, right?”

  “Ask Phil-O,” Elgin said, giggling.

  Mai-Li stroked her hair as she turned toward Elgin. “Mean-spirited humor is a dark force, repellent in Feng Shui, which, unless exorcised almost always ends up harming the source.”

  Gulp. I smiled and vowed to think good thoughts from now on as Elgin sidled out of the shot, probably to go look for a rosary or something. Mai-Li stopped in front of my window, above my kitchen sink.

  “Feng Shui literally translates into wind and water. Since life exists in air or water, chi is the energy that flows within these environments. You want to respect the life energy in every room and surrounding.”

  I nodded.

  “Clutter is out,” she smiled as she eyed my open kitchen, awaiting its cabinets. With the fresh start I was being given, I promised myself I would keep my cupboards neat and tidy. “Avoid over-decorating. When you sit at your table, you should have a clear view. Objects, papers, bills, projects; all weigh you down and represent piles of stress that are felt by your very psyche.”

  “I agree with you there,” I said.

  She peeked into my family room. “Good, good. You never want your stairs to face out your front door; it lets all of the good energy escape. Same thing, your front door should never open and face directly into a bathroom; that could signify a flushing out of your wealth.”

  So far, so good.

  “There are many arrangements that can enhance the energy that flows around you. Some of it is a common sense placement of furniture, but there are taboos, as well. For example, just as you don’t want your back facing a door in an office, you never, ever want your bed positioned with your feet pointing toward the door.”

  Or course, Elgin was there for that. “Oh
, don’t worry, her feet usually point up toward the ceiling. Is that good Feng Shui?”

  I shot him a most un-Feng Shui look. Though some of this sounded like a bunch of superstitious mumbo-jumbo, who was I to question it? I believed hummingbirds bring good luck and every time I saw one I waited for something good to happen. I also tried not to step on cracks in sidewalks, but I thought that might also be to avoid tripping. I held my breath if I drove by a cemetery and I always made sure to leave the last bite on my plate and last swallow in my glass. I have no idea why. But I did it. Routines that worked for me.

  We headed back into my kitchen. “I like the curvature of your island. In Feng Shui, you want to avoid straight lines and sharp corners, especially where people will be standing or sitting.”

  She swayed her body, moving her hands like a hula girl. “You can feel the flow of energy through your kitchen. This is a good space. Elgin has done a nice job.” She approved of the kitchen layout but when she stuck her head in my laundry room off the kitchen she let out a shriek.

  Her hands went up and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, I guess to help soothe her scarred chi or ward off evil.

  When she could talk, she stepped back into my kitchen. I felt really guilty and I knew what she was going to say.

  “Yeah,” I invited her to smile with me, “we’ve had that fish practically forever. Seriously, the kids can’t remember when it wasn’t there.”

  “You’re divorced, right?” she accused.

  “Oh, come on. My divorce didn’t have anything to do with Orange Juice, the world’s oldest living goldfish,” I tried to protest. Nicole had named him.

  “‘Living’ is such a strong word,” she muttered. Now she was rubbing her fingers across a swatch of the ends of her hair, like a baby trying to self-soothe.

  “Well, he used to be over in the corner,” I tried to explain, “but with all the construction I had to move him into the laundry room, and he’s kind of gone downhill.”

  “Lisby. He is swimming downhill. Fish are supposed to swim sideways, not bob up and down with their head pointing south like they’re doing a head stand.”

  “I know. The pet store gave me some medicine for ich but it hasn’t been working.”

  “Ich,” Elgin echoed, plugging his nose.

  “You know what you have to do,” Mai-Li said.

  “No. I can’t.” I couldn’t believe it, but my eyes started watering. Over a fish. A fish I didn’t particularly like since I was always the one who got stuck changing the water and feeding it. A fish I’d be much happier without, but like many unpleasant things in my life, a sick fish that I didn’t want to deal with and therefore, would put up with.

  “Do it now. It’s totally disrupting the positive energy in your house, the energy in your new kitchen. I totally felt it when I walked in.”

  Now that the heat was off of him and on poor Orange Juice, Elgin returned. “I felt it too,” he said. What an idiot.

  “OK, Mai-Li. You’re right. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Take care of it now. It’s the right thing to do, Lisby,” Mai-Li said to me. “He’s suffering.”

  “I know, but my kids have had that fish for a couple of years. I don’t want to upset them, and I don’t want to be the one to pull the trigger.”

  Elgin rubbed my back and then pushed me toward the bowl. “You’re not pulling the trigger, silly. You’re flushing the handle.”

  I picked up the bowl and in a procession, followed by Elgin, Mai-Li and Sam, shooting the whole thing, headed into the bathroom. I felt so stupid and sad, but I had to say something. “Bye, Orange Juice. You were a good fish. Good luck.”

  “Good luck with what?” Elgin snorted behind me.

  I poured him in and flushed. I tried to blink away the puddles in the corner of my eyes. “My kids are going to be so sad.”

  I remembered how Nicole, who used to stare at that goldfish with the same intensity she now used in her own mirror, told me that goldfish only have ten second memories. She was so glad, she told me, since she was worried about how boring it must be for them in their little glass bowls.

  “Aw honey,” I had praised her, “did you learn that in school?” I had been so proud of her, thinking she was this little scientist. She read it off the cap of a Snapple bottle.

  Mai-Li shoved Elgin aside and put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s not always easy to embrace Feng Shui, but it is right to do so. Change of any kind is always hard. We’re creatures of habit and don’t like to upset the status quo. But, sometimes you have to change it up and experience new emotions in order to grow. But, you know that, right?”

  “I guess,” I said.

  She pulled me back into the kitchen. “Take a deep breath, and feel. The energy is lighter now.”

  Whatever, I thought.

  Mai-Li continued. “You have taken positive steps and are on the right path.” She held up her hand.

  “However, there is one more thing. When I drove up, I also felt negative chi swirling in the neighborhood. Rumors, gossip, innuendo fly between the spaces of the houses.”

  I laughed. I was starting to feel better about ending poor Orange Juice’s suffering. “Are you kidding me? It’s suburbia. What do you think swirls between the houses? Everybody likes to be up in everybody else’s business.”

  “You need protection,” she told me. “You need to place a crystal at the foot of your stairs to catch the sunlight and help redirect the shifting negative energy in the space. Mirrors are also good.”

  Thank goodness, she had a crystal, on a red satin string, that I could purchase for forty bucks to help protect my household from bad karma. Such a deal! Sam filmed me hanging it.

  Mai-Li nodded. “Red is a strong color, but powerful. The user must be careful how it is channeled.”

  That’s all I was waiting for. I began my whine like Gwyneth Paltrow to Mai-Li about the stupid Rojo Ha Elgin was going to paint my kitchen.

  She raised her hands and stopped my tirade. “Enough.” She sounded like some empress, ordering me to take a vow of silence or something. “You have been given many tools. They are yours to choose how to use. You will feel a difference...so make a difference.”

  That’s deep, I remember thinking. So deep I was out of my element, that’s for sure. I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

  Mai-Li headed to the door and stepped outside. “Thanks, Mai-Li,” I told her. “A lot of what you said made sense.” I smiled and waved.

  She looked back over her shoulder. “You need a wind chime, too.”

  “I can do that.”

  She bowed her head and though I swear I didn’t have a girl-crush on her I really wanted to stroke her hair. I was about to ask her what kind of conditioner she used but felt I would be breaking her otherworldly meditation. I wanted to prove that I was bigger than earthly concerns about silky smooth hair and that I was evolved enough to embrace universal harmony and balance. Hmm. Maybe that’s what she used on her hair; Harmony and Balance. I planned on seeking out that hair conditioner.

  Mai-Li lifted her head, her eyes seeking out Elgin. Yeah, give him some guidance, I prayed.

  “So, when will this be on TV?” she asked him.

  Chapter 17

  Oh, Well, If The Mayans Did It…

  Elgin got his way and Sam filmed me painting the horrendous gash of color on my pristine kitchen walls. If the name alone made me crazy, Rojo Ha, the color made me want to charge a bull-fighter. Or Elgin. Olé. I rolled the roller, swiping it in a huge W, back and forth, and let the crew do all the cutting in around the edges and painting the corners, by the windows and the mop boards. Screw it. I didn’t care. The color was atrocious and I knew the crew thought so, too. I did think Elgin was incredibly talented but I also think he made a big mistake and didn’t have the cojones to admit it.

  “You’re using the wrong color for the wrong purpose for all the wrong reasons,” I told Elgin. I looked over at Sam. “Have enough footage?”

 
He poked his head out from behind his camera. “I think you’ve had enough,” he said.

  I put down my roller and walked toward the foot of the stairs.

  “Nicole!” I hollered so loudly I could see Dustin flinch under his audio headsets. “Sorry,” I mouthed toward him.

  She showed up in a swoosh. I knew she would since I knew she was upstairs eavesdropping, waiting to talk to me.

  “Honey. A belly-button ring?” She had been badgering me ever since her Dad gave her the OK. I had put her off as long as I could. “I thought we decided to wait until you’re 18. Or got straight A’s.” I wouldn’t have to hold my breath on that one.

  “Mom. I’m 15, I’m getting good grades, you know how long I’ve wanted this and besides…”

  I said it along with her, “All my friends are doing it.”

  “Even Bailey got her belly button pierced,” she said, referring to one of her friends whose mom must have been a bigger square than me. “Besides, Dad already said I could.”

  Nicole was a charmer. She was also stubborn. When she got an idea in her head she wanted what she wanted when she wanted it; yesterday. “Honey, the risk of infection is high. You could get really sick and I’ve heard it hurts-a lot.”

  She was shaking her head and smiling, knowing she all the answers, and the OK from her Dad. “I’ll take good care of it and keep it cleaned and everything.”

  I tried some more but knew I was just going through the motions. Fun Dad strikes again. “Here’s the deal.” I finally had to give in. “I will do my homework and try to find a good, sterile place to have it done. If I’m not comfortable, at any time, we call it off.”

  She threw herself in my arms. “Thanks, Momma. Luvs ya.” She flew back upstairs probably to call all her friends.

  I got on the internet and tried to ignore my stomach ache. I found a place on Highway 101 up along the coast. I called and talked to the head piercer, Joel.

  “Yeah, man, it’s cool, it’s cool. All of our equipment is sterilized in our auto-clave and we only use one-use only needles. Our rings are all implant grade surgical steel, titanium, silver or gold, whatever you want.”