by Amy Harmon
Chad smiled. “Friends.” He saluted me with the envelopes in his hand. “You got it.”
“Please don’t avoid me. That would make me sad.”
“All right. No more avoiding. And no weirdness. Just friends. Now I’m going to go put these in the office and water some flowers.”
“And I’m going to continue peeling roses off the wall.”
My hands worked the steamer and peeled paper from the wall, but my ears listened to Chad rustling around in the kitchen. I heard him wander down a hall, opening and closing a couple of doors and then I heard him running water in the kitchen. A few minutes later, I heard the plastic sheeting rustle.
“How late do you think you’ll stay?” Chad asked from the doorway.
“My goal was to have all this peeled and scrubbed down tonight so I could prime it tomorrow morning and paint tomorrow night. I’ve got floor people coming on Monday and we’re celebrating my dad’s birthday on Sunday.”
I peeled a few pathetic wisps of paper. When Chad didn’t say anything I turned to see if he was still there. He was standing in the doorway with a serious look on his face.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“I’m just trying to figure out what to say.”
I laughed. “What do you mean? You can say whatever you want.”
“I know this is important to you and I’m trying to decide if you’d appreciate some help or if I’d offend you by offering. Because I’m more than willing to help, but I don’t want to step on your toes or make you think I think you can’t handle it on your own.”
I quickly turned my head back to the wall and tried to see the wallpaper through the tears that had just filled my eyes. I swallowed hard. Why did Chad have to be so perceptive? And so thoughtful? And so sweet? I knew what I should do. I should send him home and finish the job myself. Matt would be less than thrilled at the idea of me and Chad working late into the night. Alone.
When I could speak with a steady voice, I turned back around. Chad was watching me. His kind face took the words I’d planned to say and mixed them all up. “I’d love the help if you’re not too tired.”
Chad’s smile did something to my heart that I didn’t want to think about. “So I didn’t offend you?”
I swallowed and shook my head. “This wallpaper is pretty stubborn. I could use the help.”
“Just give me an assignment.”
“Do you know how to use a steamer?” I asked.
“No, but I’m a quick learner.”
I showed Chad how to steam the wallpaper and then peel it back with the scraper. He took over that job and I began scrubbing the walls I’d finished.
At midnight, the radio station I’d had playing quietly in the background started playing Delilah’s Love Songs. Delilah started reading a letter from Chester, a man in Minneapolis who was trying to convince his girlfriend not to break up with him. I listened with increasing discomfort as Chester begged his girlfriend to listen to the words of the Bee Gees and “don’t throw it all away.” A minute later, the falsetto trio was singing and pleading that we not throw our love away.
I was dying to change the station. First of all, I didn’t want to listen to a couple of hours of love songs with Chad and secondly, the lyrics to this song were especially uncomfortable given our circumstances. Would my thoughts be too obvious if I changed the station? I didn’t know what to do.
“I think we need something with a little more energy if we’re going to finish this sometime tonight,” Chad said and hopped off the ladder to change the station. Soon we were listening to sets of eighties music. Peeling and scrubbing was much easier and much more comfortable to the sounds of The Thompson Twins and Howard Jones.
“How do you know all these songs?” I asked. Chad had been singing along to most of the songs.
“My parents played this stuff all the time. The eighties had some great music.”
When the walls were all scrubbed and I’d shoved the last dustpan full of wallpaper scraps into a garbage bag, I pulled out my phone and looked at the time. It was just after three.
“I really would have been here all night if you hadn’t stayed to help me. Thank you.”
“It was fun. I’ve got a swim practice in the morning, but I’ll be finished around noon. Do you want me to come back and help you paint?”
“That’s okay. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than paint.”
“Actually, I don’t. Don’t worry. I know this is your thing and I won’t take any credit for it when it turns out awesome. I won’t even tell anyone I came to help. I just don’t want you falling asleep at your dad’s birthday party.”
Maybe it was the late hour or maybe it was Chad’s cute, crooked smile. Maybe it was because we’d spent several hours together laughing and working. Just like friends. Whatever it was, I agreed.
We locked up the house and left in our separate cars. All the way home, I went back and forth between happiness that Chad was helping me paint the next day and caution that I may not be treating him fairly. By the time I got home and fell into bed, the caution had disappeared.
Chapter Twenty
The alarm went off just seconds after I closed my eyes. At least that’s how it felt. I let it ring for almost a minute before I rolled over and hit the snooze button. My arms ached, my eyes burned and the covers felt leaden. For nine glorious minutes, I let my bed cradle my weary body, but when the alarm sounded again, I pushed aside the warm, heavy covers and headed for the shower.
“I didn’t think you’d be up this early,” Janessa said in the kitchen a few minutes later. “You got home so late.”
“The wallpaper was a nightmare. It came off in pieces the size of confetti.”
“Ugh. That stinks. You should have called me. I could have come and helped you after work last night.”
“Thanks, but I ended up with some help the last few hours.”
“Really? I didn’t picture Matt as a manual labor kind of guy.”
“It wasn’t Matt. It was Chad.” I didn’t look at Janessa but I could feel her eyes on me. I pulled my bagel out of the toaster and slathered strawberry cream cheese on it.
“That’s… interesting?” Janessa was testing the waters.
I sat down at the table with my bagel and orange juice. “It wasn’t a big deal. He stopped by to pick up the mail and water his mom’s plants. He could see I was having a hard time and he offered to help. That’s all.”
“That was really nice of him.”
“He’s a good friend.” I took a big bite of bagel. It appeared the conversation was over but Janessa kept glancing at me. I’d known her long enough to see she wanted to say more. “Go ahead Janessa. If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Who said I had something to say?” she asked. “I was just noticing how pretty you look. Mascara and lip gloss. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying to look nice.” She smiled mischievously.
“Knock it off,” I said but it took some effort not to smile back.
Janessa finished her bowl of Cheerios and noisily rinsed out the dish. She squeezed my shoulder as she walked by. “Good luck over there today.” She stopped at the door. “Oh, by the way, Ben and I are going out tonight so I won’t be home until late.”
“You might still beat me home. We’re priming and painting both rooms today.” I cringed inside as soon as the words were out. I should have said “I” not “we.” Janessa raised one eyebrow and I could tell she’d caught my mistake. I waited for her smart aleck reply but it didn’t come. She just turned and headed for the door.
* * *
“Many people overlook priming the walls and jump right to the paint. That is a mistake made by amateurs.”
“Professional painters know a primed wall grabs the paint and makes second and third coats less likely.”
“A primed wall guarantees your finished wall will be true to the color you selected.”
I repeated the words of past professors to mysel
f as I worked on the primer coat. It was a real temptation to skip that step given the amount of wall space that needed painted, but I wanted to be sure the colors were exactly what I wanted.
I’d finished in the dining room and had started on the largest wall in the living room when a gust of wind whipped the plastic as the front door opened.
“Sorry I’m late,” Chad said stepping through the plastic into the living room. “Tell me what to do.”
I turned to give Chad some instructions and stopped. This might have been a bad idea. Chad looked way too good in his faded jeans, a navy long-sleeved t-shirt and some old tennis shoes. The wind had left his hair a little messy and brought a ruddiness to his cheeks that made his eyes look bluer than ever. In fact, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever noticed his blue eyes. One corner of his mouth curved into a crooked smile and I realized I was staring at him.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize we’d set a time so how could you be late?”
“I was planning to come as soon as swim practice ended but Carter asked if he could talk to me after practice and we ended up talking for almost an hour.”
“Is Carter the one who’s going to swim for the Ducks?” I asked.
“Good memory. Yeah. He’s got some stuff going on at home—his parents are getting a divorce—and he just needed someone to talk to.”
“I’m glad you didn’t rush out on him. You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I know. I want to. Put me to work, oh brilliant designer.”
I laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I haven’t earned that title yet.”
“It’s just a matter of time. Hey, I brought my iPod dock if you’d like something other than the radio.”
“Sure, that sounds great.”
A few minutes later we were both priming the walls while the best mix of music I’d ever heard played in the background.
“Where did you find some of this music?” I asked.
“Oh no. You don’t like it?”
“I love it. I’ve just never heard most of it before.”
“I don’t like most of the stuff they play on the radio. When I find a group I like, I plug it into Pandora and find the bands that compare to them. It’s given me a pretty good variety. Let me know if you hate something and we’ll skip it.”
“No, I really like it.”
The afternoon zipped by in a flash. By late afternoon, the dining room walls wore a soft, cozy blue that made me want to sing. I held the Flow Blue plate up to the wall. The contrast in blues was lovely.
We’d painted the wall around the windows when Chad checked his watch. “Hey, do you like basketball?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“Do you mind if we listen to the Oregon State game?”
“Of course not. Chad, if you want to watch the game, you should go watch it. I don’t mind.”
“Let’s just listen to it and keep painting.” Chad tuned the radio on to the game and we continued to paint.
“You’re a Beavers fan?” I asked.
“That’s where I went.”
“Really? Me too.”
We soon established that we’d only overlapped one year. What if we’d met in a history class or at the library, I wondered. Would things have been different? Would I have been willing to give Chad a chance if we’d become friends first? Or would I still have held out for Matt?
Timing is sometimes a joker because as these thoughts went through my mind, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Matt. “I’ll be right back,” I said to Chad and walked through the plastic sheeting into the kitchen.
“Hey Babe,” Matt said.
“Hi. Did you have a good trip?”
“Sure. We got here around noon. We’ve been working all afternoon.”
“Me too.”
“How’s the wallpaper removal coming?”
“It’s finished. I’m painting now.” This time I remembered to use the word “I,” but I noticed the guilty feelings that descended on me. Was I guilty for not giving Chad credit or guilty that Matt didn’t know Chad was helping me?
“We’re leaving for dinner in a few minutes but I wanted to talk to you. I wish you were here.”
“Where are you eating?”
“I can’t remember the name. Alan said it’s one of his favorite restaurants, so we’ll see what that means. It probably means we’re going to a sports bar so he can watch half a dozen sporting events and eat a greasy burger.” It didn’t sound like a place Meg would like but I didn’t ask if she was joining them. With Chad in the other room painting, it seemed hypocritical to pester him with questions about who would be at dinner.
“I wish I was heading to dinner with you. I’m starving,” I said.
“It must have been my reference to a greasy burger that did it,” Matt said and we laughed. “What did you have for lunch?”
“I just realized I didn’t stop to eat lunch.” I sat on a stool at the counter.
“That’s not smart, Elizabeth. I can understand your excitement about the job, but you need to take breaks and eat.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll order something when I get off the phone.”
“Sorry I’m missing your Dad’s birthday.”
“Me too. They were looking forward to meeting you.”
“We’ll arrange that after I get back. Maybe we can all go to dinner.”
“Or you can come to another Sunday dinner.”
“We’ll work that out later. Oh, they’re here.” I guess Meg was with them after all. “I’d better head out.”
“Have a good dinner,” I said.
“You too. Stop working and eat right now.”
“I will. Thanks for calling.”
“Meg, where’s Alan?” Matt said into the phone.
“Waiting in the car,” I heard Meg say.
“Gotta run, Elizabeth. Good night.”
“Good night.”
The phone was dead almost immediately. I sat at the counter, hungry and tired and bereft. What was wrong with me? Part of me wanted to tell Matt that Chad was helping me, but why? Did I want to provoke him? Was I looking for a chance to point out that Chad had been willing to help me when Matt hadn’t? That was silly. It didn’t mean Matt didn’t care. He was just busy with the new store and it was unfair of me to begrudge him that. It was probably that I was bugged that Meg was there with him and I wanted him to feel just as bothered as I felt. Or maybe it was something else. Something I didn’t want to scrutinize too closely.
I couldn’t tell if I was sad, angry, frustrated, or just hungry and tired. I laid my head down on my arms.
“You okay?” Chad was standing at the doorway. I had no idea how long he’d been there.
I sighed. “I’m fine. What’s the score?”
“It’s halftime and Washington is ahead by two.”
“Chad, I’m starving.” My voice had an embarrassing quiver.
“Then let’s eat.”
“How about I order pizza and root beer and we watch the second half of the game,” I said.
“Sounds good to me. Let’s order from Longinetti’s and get some of their cinnamon bread sticks, too.”
It was just what I needed. The second half of the game was close, with several ties and lead changes. The food tasted even better than I’d thought it would. I felt like a new person after eating and even though the game was a nail-biter, it was fun and I felt relaxed.
“I’d better be careful,” Chad said when he jumped out of his seat after a score and his paper plate with two crust ends landed on the carpet. “Whew! We’re safe,” he said when he was sure there was no pizza sauce on the carpet.
Washington held a two-point lead with eleven seconds left and Chad was sitting on the edge of the couch. I sat cross-legged in the corner of the couch, a pillow clutched in my lap. The Oregon point guard brought the ball down and with six seconds took a short jump shot that tied the game.”
“There’s too much time left. We left them too much time,” I said
.
“I know. Come on defense,” he said speaking to the team as if they could hear him.
Washington took a time out and when they came out their star dribbled for a few seconds and then drove to the basket. The ball looked like it might go in, but then it bounced out.
“Overtime,” Chad said and sank back into the couch.
“Better than a loss,” I said.
“Except we don’t have time for an overtime. Shall we listen to the overtime while we paint?”
“No, let’s just watch it and then paint.” I smiled at Chad’s obvious relief.
The first two minutes of the overtime looked grim. Washington came out with gusto and soon they had the biggest lead of the game, eight points. But Oregon didn’t give up and during the last two minutes, they whittled it back to another tie. Neither team scored in the last thirty seconds and the overtime ended in another tie.
Chad looked at me and we started laughing. Hours of painting waited beyond the plastic sheeting and here we were, an empty pizza box on the coffee table, a bottle of root beer losing its fizz on the counter and a game neither of us wanted to leave.
“I’ll hurry and clean up dinner during the break and then we can get right to the painting when the game’s over,” I said.
“I’ll help.” Moving quickly, we threw away the garbage, put the root beer in the refrigerator and wiped down the counter. We made it back to the television just as the second overtime began.
Both teams were tired and the only score in the first three minutes was a free throw. During the last two minutes, Washington scored five points and Oregon scored four, leaving the score tied. “No, please! Someone score. Anyone. Not another overtime,” Chad said.
“They obviously don’t care about us,” I said.
“I know. This is our reward for being loyal fans?” The second overtime ended in a tie. “I feel bad,” Chad said. “We really should be painting.”
“I should never have suggested we watch the second half. I’ve totally jinxed us. We can’t give up on them now,” I said. “We must fight with them to the end.”