Nate the Happy Painter (short story 27)

  Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

* Nate, in well-worn shorts and a faded t-shirt, searches for coffee in the kitchen he shares with three others. There are dishes in the sink, the pantry is bare except for some cans of spegetti, and the refrigerator only has moldy cheese in a baggie and some peanut butter. There’s actually more food caked on the walls, stove and oven that in the fridge and panty. No coffee in this drawer ... nor in that. Under the sink? Nope. He washes his stubbly face in the sink, and dries off with the dirty dish towel. Nate goes back to the kitchen table and his notebook and plops down in the chair. Tired, coffeeless.

The phone rings. He lets it go, he knows it’s not for him. “Answer the phone,” says room mate George. It’s probably for George, Nate knows. It rings again.

“Answer the fucking phone,” says Tom. It could be for Tom. Probably George though. It rings again.

“Goddamn it, answer the phone,” yells Derek. Derek is having sex right now with his girlfriend Mary, so he can’t bother answeringing up.

Nate picks up on the fourth ring. “Yeah?”

“Nate? This is Brandon.”

“Haven’t heard from you in awhile.”

“Well, Anna and I have been busy fixing up our last house.”

“How many do you have now?”

“Uhhmmm, I don’t know. Six? No, seven now. We just bought another one. Forty five hundred square feet. In fact, that’s what I called you about.”

“Yeah, I can paint it for you.”

“You read my mind! Anna loved the job you did on our last house. Here’s the deal: we got an estimate of five thousand from a local company. Will you do it for three? We’ll buy the paint, drop clothes, brushes, rolls, everything.”

“How long?”

“Actually, we’re going on vacation, touring Europe and then we’re visiting Anna’s parents. It’s just be you in the house. Can you finish in three weeks?”

“No problem.”

“I’ll stock up the panty with food before we go.”

“Do you have a coffee machine?”

“I’ll make sure your all set with a coffee machine . Thanks man, you’re really saving us a lot of money.”

“No problem.”

“Come over and Anna will tell you what paint schemes she’s got in mind. I’ll send the address. It’s about fifty miles out of the city. Take a taxi. We’ll pay for it.”

“I’ll get packed and be there in a two or three hours.”

* Anna, Brandon stand in the middle of the living room with Nate. The entire house is practically empty, but the floors are clean and the walls are dirty. Anna and Brandon look like a typical young yuppie couple in love. In old sorts and shirt, Nate looks ... well, like he’s about to start painting a house.

“Egg-shell white,” Anna says, indicating the gallons of paint and supplies in the corner of the room. Nate checks them to make sure he’s got enough. He nods, “White.”

All three move into the dining room. “Princess Ivory,” Anna says with a sweep of her arms, “a very soft yellow.” Nate checks the color sample on the cans and nods, “Light yellow.”

They pass to the neighboring kitchen area. “Summer Lily,” Anna says. Nate checks the color sample on the cans and nods, “Yellow.”

Brandon shows Nate the fridge and panty stocked with food. This continues on to the library, the foyer, and all the other rooms on the first floor. They all move up to the second floor. “All the bedroom will be two-tone, two walls one color, two walls another.” They move from bedrrom to bedroom, checking colors and supplies. The second floor also has a small reading room/office. “This one will be two-tones, but the upper half is Vienna Violet and the bottom half is Breeze Blue.” Nate nods, “simple enough.”

They go back to the first floor. “Any questions?” Brandon asks.

“Where do I sleep?”

“The basement, which is also where the coffee machine is,” Brandon says.

“There’s also a bed, bathroom, and the washer and dryer. You can paint the basement however you like.”

“Anything?”

“The limit is your imagination,” Anna says with a smile.

“Cool.” At this Nate cracks a small smile.

* Nate stands at the front door looking outside, waving to Anna and Brandon driving away. “Have fun on your trip!” Anna tooks the hork and zips down the road.

Nate shuts the door and heads downstairs. “First things first,” Nate says to himself. He gets a workspace set up for writing, makes coffee, sets a timer on his cellphone for 2 hours, and sits down at his laptop. Tap, tap, his fingers march a slow beat. Tap, tap. He types a sentence, then deletes it. This goes on for two hours. Ding, he cellphone alarm goes off. He finishes his coffee and heads upstairs.

“White room,” he says making his way to the living room. He lays painters cloth, applies painters tape to the edges, mixes the paint, and gets to work. By the evening, it’s finished. He cleans the brushes in the basement tub, then heads to the kitchen for food. He eats and reads a novel he brought along, turns out the lights and goes to bed.

The next morning, he gets up, makes coffee, sets a timer on his cellphone for 4 hours, and sits down at his laptop. Tap, tap. Same routine. He gets a couple of pages out, but he’s not happy. Ding, he cellphone alarm goes off. He finishes his coffee and heads upstairs.

“Light yellow,” he says making his way to the dining room. You know the drill.

Next day, same thing, different room. A few more pages. Each day on the first floor is about the same. The writing is difficult, and not many pages come out.

The second week, Nate starts painting the second floor. More colors to use when painting the bedrooms. Each room is two-tone, and the colors are a little more variety. Pages come out a little better, not much, but a little. His best writing effort is that day when he paints the small reading room/office in light purple and blue.

* The third week is his last week in the house. He can use whatever colors he likes in whatever pattern he wants. His creative side comes alive and his page production explodes. Each morning he gets up earlier and earlier and, each morning, and the words fly off the page non-stop until the alarm goes off. When he paints, he paints quickly and confidently, with a clear vision. He uses a variety of brushes, and colors but, on occasion, will paint over a section he doesn’t like or needs to be revisited. He paints everything using a different composiiton. Even the inside of a door to the bathroom is painted different than the outside.

Coincidentally, as he finished the last space, his cellphone rings. “How’s it going? We’ll be there tomorrow morning,” Brandon says.

“Just finished,” Nate says.

* Nate’s back in his kitchen, in the apartment he shares with Derek and George and Tom. The same dishes are still in the sink, but the panty is full and the fridge is well-stocked. Now, there’s actually less food caked on the walls, stove and oven than in the fridge and panty. Nate starts to brew coffee. He pulls out his favorite cub from the cabinet in anticipation.

* Brandon and Anna are downstairs with Susan Gessen, an art gallery owner. “Five thousand for the door,” Susan says.

“How much for that wall?” Anna asks, pointing to the large wall with an abstract mural.

“Fifty thousand, if I can get extract it safely.”

“We covered the wall with wallpaper then canvas over that,” Brandon says.

“How much for the whole thing?”

“Ninety thousdand.”

“Deal,” Anna and Brandon say at the same time.

* Nate sips fresh coffee from his favorite cup. His cellphone rings. “Hey, man, I still have your routing number, so I just did a direct deposit in lieu of a check. Hope that’s okay,” Brandon says.

“I saw it. Three thoughsand dollars really helps, thanks,” Nate says.

“No, man, thank you.”

“Anytime you need a house painter, let me know.”

“Funny you should mention that, we might be buying another place in a few months after doing so renovations on this place. New appliances, some landscaping, that sort of thing.”

“Cool, hit me up then. Later,” Nate says hanging up.