Erin laughed, looking up the ladder to Chris who was clearly in over his head, dangling precariously above with a paint brush. He'd agreed to help Erin with painting project in her living room.
"That’s the worst paint trim I’ve ever seen," Erin teased.
"Yeah?" And my grand dad was a professional painter; he’s probably rolling over in his grave right now," Chris noted, surveying his sloppy work. "For what it's worth, I also was never was good at coloring as a kid," he sighed.
"So, I take it that you didn’t inherit the painting genes from the family," Erin laughed.
"Thankfully, I didn’t inherit many genes from the family," Chris deadpanned, with relief.
"Take a break Picasso," Erin ordered.
"THAT, I know how to do," Chris bolted from the ladder.
"Hey," Erin began; her tone turned apologetic. "Chris, I’m sorry about the other night."
"Don’t worry about it; I’m sorry for pushing, I always do that. I was just concerned and a little cranky," Chris assured.
"The Tim comment really irritated me Chris."
"Look," Chris interrupted, "I know it did and I was out of line, I really am sorry; it’s none of my business."
Erin sat in the floor across from Chris, looking into his eyes for a moment; a relieved smile crossed her face.
"You have paint on your nose," Erin pointed.
"Where?" Chris aimlessly swatted at his face.
"Right there," she pointed again, dabbing the paint brush squarely on Chris’ nose.
"Oh, it’s on now!" Chris grabbed a brush and dabbed it on Erin’s cheek.
After a few minutes, the paint brush war had concluded as they sat in the middle of the floor on the drop cloth, breathless from laughing uncontrollably and, by the looks of them both, there was no definitive winner.
"Thankfully it’s water based," Chris pointed to the paint can.
"Shower? Erin innocently suggested.
Chris shook his head and smiled. "You read my mind.
As they headed to the bathroom, Chris announced, "Hey, can I paint a few more spots I’d like to wash before we get started?" He wore a mischievous grin.
Across town, Thomas had returned from his mechanic job, but he was plenty busy dabbling in his side job.
"Look bro, all you gotta do is hold this shit here till my boy comes into town to get it." One of Thomas’ gang buddies harmlessly assured. He was in need of a safe house to stash a small cache of guns and figured that Thomas' house would be the safest bet.
"Man, I done told ya’ I’m tryin’ to stay low D; I got this here job and I need to get shit straight for my little girl," Thomas answered his friend, pointing to his work name badge.
"I gotcha man," his friend casually accepted. "It ain’t no thing T, all you gotta do is hold the shit, I’m doin’ all the leg work Besides, it’ll be out in a couple days when my boy gets here," his friend assured.
"Who is this motherfucker anyway? You never fuck around with holdin’ guns man," Thomas skeptically asked.
"I don’t ask no questions; c'mon, you know how it works T. I got the money, he shows up and takes the shit…a satisfied customer...I couldn’t pass it up and I'm cuttin' your ungrateful ass in on the dollars," his friend explained, holding out a wad of cash before sifting out a thousand on the bed.
"Thomas' eyes were wide as he stared at the money.
"That seem to be enough for your troubles T?" Thomas' friend asked. "My man, you can buy Felicia a lot of shit with dat’ right there bro, ya' heard me? And, it's a hell of a lot more than what you can shell out on that grease monkey paycheck."
Thomas never diverted his eyes from the cash. Finally, he intently directed his eyes back to his friend and reluctantly agreed.
"Alright, but I want this shit outta here fast; I’m not fuckin' with this life anymore bro.
"That’s cool Thomas; do ya’ thing, I understand bout' the little girl. But, when you get tired of that 10 dollar an hour shit makin' other people rich, come get with me. You shouldn't be worryin' bout’ bein’ able to buy ya' little girl them video games or the latest whatever that all her friends got; we’ll be here for ya’. Just remember where ya’ came from T and remember who’s always been here for ya’ too."
Thomas, again, glanced at the money, he felt deeply conflicted. He did need more than 10 dollars per hour; After all, he wanted to provide a better life for Felicia. Sometimes, he reasoned, he may have to do what he’s gotta do in order to give her a better life. He felt weak and disappointed in himself, knowing that Chris and his auntie would be as well.
"Very sexy!" Marie applauded, hearing all about the art of body painting from Chris’ morning. "It sounds like things are back on track...How’s your head; please tell me that you aren't gonna find something to over think?" She quizzed.
"I’m fine; I still have to work on my patience, but it‘s good...even though the Tim thing did get under my skin.
"Well, you know what I think about that..." Marie retorted.
"You think that I over reacted? Chris sheepishly asked.
"Actually, I think that you're clinically insane," Marie laughed.
"Hey! I apologized to her!" Chris announced, reaching for empathy.
Marie thoughtfully stared at Chris for a moment, analyzing his words and the the events which he'd endured over the past few months before offering an observation.
"Chris, you do realize something don’t you?"
"What now?" He wondered how Marie was about to rain on his parade this time.
"Hear me out. Erin has had lots of down time and you, technically, don’t exist in her memory...which is still bizarre to me. Then, you have Angela, who has gone through a divorce AND a fairly serious relationship with someone."
"Yeah?" Chris wondered where this could possibly be headed.
"For you, this has all been seamless. You woke up one morning and the world had changed around you," Marie pointed out.
"So? What’s your point Marie?"
"My point is that you’re the only one who still hasn’t taken the down time, time to repair and heal...time to think, you know? I mean, you’ve been working hard at it but maybe you should slow down with Erin a little bit, at least until you’ve taken the time for you.
Chris shot a frustrated stare to Marie as she continued.
"Isn’t that one of the last things Erin asked of you?"
"Yeah, but this is all different now Marie," Chris reasoned, simply looking for his friend to share in his happiness.
"For her, yes, for you, I’m not sure. Look, even though it was slight, you still conjured a bunch of worry and negative energy from the back of your twisted head about her and Tim the other night. Chris, all I'm sayin' is that if you really want this with Erin, I don’t care how many angels, devils, savior gang members or mystical lights shine from above, there are no shortcuts when it comes to human emotion...period.
Allowing a few seconds for her words to sink in, Marie continued. "You wanna be the best you can be for her?"
"Yes," Chris quickly replied.
"Do you love her?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then sit down and do some serious thinking…soon. There are lots of ways to show love. Some are simple…some, not so much."
Chris leaned back in his chair, massaging his hands over his face as he listened to Marie.
"By the way, did you ever answer that question?" She nonchalantly quizzed.
"What question?" Chris snapped back.
"The one I asked on the way home from the Ritz that night," she reminded.
"What was the question?" Chris searched his mind.
"What have you learned from your second chance?"
Chris studied Marie’s face for a moment, he kept silent, reaching to the depths of his mind for the answer.
"That’s my point," Marie whispered as she placed her hand on his shoulder, looking to him with deep concern in her eyes.
He stared blankly; speechless. She smiled reassuringly at him.
copyright, Pontchartrain Press 2008
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