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“George,” Josh asked one day, as they ran into each other at the entrance to 515 Walnut Street, ” Where would you recommend I go to get some help with a building project? Should I go to Loews or Home Depot?”
George shook his head and clapped one hand on Josh’s shoulder.
“Don’t go to either,” he said, “You want to go to Dunn Lumber – their service reps know the most.”
“Ok,” said Josh, “where is it?”
“Oh – it’s up on Hwy 99 close to 168th. Say . . . do you want to go right now?” George looked at his watch, suddenly eager, “Verna says dinner will only be ready for 6:30.” Josh laughed at the excited tone of his voice.
“Let me check with Jacki – I know she really wants this done so I probably could.” Josh poked his head in the door and yelled,
“JACKI?”
“What dear?” she said, from the kitchen just inside the door, “I’m right here.”
“Oh, hi!” Josh gave her a big grin, “Is it ok if I go to Dunn Lumber with George to look into building you your desk space?”
“Yes please!” said Jacki, “I need that to get done!”
Two minutes later, Josh and George were driving north on 9th in George’s car.
“We’ll take Olympic View Drive – nicer that taking 196th and 99,” said George, “What kind of desk are you trying to build?”
“We have a weird nook space. We’re not sure what it was for, but Jacki wants me to put a counter and shelves in there so she can have a desk area. She can’t work in my office because she’s too distracted by the mess.”
“Oh yeah – we have that weird nook space too,” said George, “Verna put a table and large vase there.”
Olympic View Drive was stunning. October had started before anyone realized it was Fall, but now the colors were everywhere. The hot oranges, fierce reds and glowing yellow leaves were everywhere.
When they parked at Dunn Lumber, Josh suddenly got nervous.
“I don’t even know what I’m really looking for,” he said, “I’ve never done this kind of thing before.”
“They’ll help you figure it out,” George said, moving forward confidently.
“How can I help you today?” asked a service rep named Brett.
“I don’t know,” Josh said, “I want to build a counter top and shelves in nook.”
“Do you have the measurements?” Brett asked, “We’ll take a look at your wood options and we can sketch out some ideas on the graph paper we have at the desk.”
“Great!” said Josh. “Measurements, right, I should have thought of that. Hold on a sec and let me call my wife.” George turned to Brett while Josh called Jacki.
“How’s the day going?” he asked politely.
“Awesome,” said Brett. He laughed, “I helped the last guy in here for over two hours. It was epic.”
“Sounds like you love your job,” George smiled, “How did you get into this?”
“Oh – I started in construction and then I wrecked my knees.”
“The nook is 2 feet deep and 3 foot wide,” Josh said closing his phone, “That’s easy.”
Soon, there were several sheets of graph paper covering the desk as Josh tried to transfer his idea out of his head.
“Would this work?” he asked again, drawing on the next sheet, and after consideration of the studs, how to mount the counter, a comfortable reaching height to the first shelf if someone was sitting, they finally had a drawing and a list of all the items Josh would need, including a much longer list of power tools than he had expected.
“So I really need all of these power tools to finish the project?” he asked excitedly, “This is great! Now I can tell Jacki that I really do need these!!”
“Well, you could borrow a hand-sander and several other tools from me,” said George, looking over the list.
“Shhhh, don’t tell me that!” said Josh, “Do you think there is room in the shared garage for me to set up shop?”
“Probably,” said George, “We might have to do a little rearranging but I’m sure no one would mind.”♦ Josh could see him enthusiastically envisioning the project moving forward in the garage and laughed. It would be fun to spend more time with George. He was a funny guy.
“Maybe I could help you with some of the project?” George said next. He sighed, “I don’t get to do projects for our place anymore. We’ve done pretty much all there is to do, unless we ripped out the kitchen cabinets.” He frowned sadly, “Verna says we’re not going to do that.”
“So do you play classical music in the gallery because you believe it’s a more sophisticated atmosphere for viewing art?” asked Brad, the suave lawyer who had been annoying Blythe ever since he had moved into Edmonds. He leaned over the counter to give Blythe a sexy look. A vision of Zoolander’s “Blue Magnum” flashed through her mind and made her laugh.
“What’s funny?” He asked. Blythe’s smile disappeared. The CD playing over the gallery speakers featured Debussy piano music. Right now it was playing a movement called “Reflets dans l’eau” – so soothing you could easily imagine the rippling reflections on a lake.
“I play classical music because I like it,” she said and shuffled some papers loudly, hoping he would clue in to the fact that she was busy prepping the next email newsletter to send out.
“So you actually enjoy classical music or do you feel like you have to like it?” He twirled a pen lazily through his fingers. Probably trying to show off his perfectly manicured hands, thought Blythe. She sighed.
“Yes, I actually enjoy classical music,” she said, “It’s very inspiring and allows me to get into my right brain easily when I’m painting. I can find classical music to fit any mood I’m in and there aren’t any words to intrude.”
Brad stopped leaning on the counter, stood up straight and clapped.
“Very admirable,” he said, “I can’t say I know anybody else who actually likes classical music. Most of us just pretend to appreciate it because we feel we have to.”
“Well then you’re really missing out,” said Blythe, “I just wish I could remember the titles and composers.”
“You need a music appreciation class!” said Brad, “I had to take one in high school. Worst class ever but we got a lot of jokes out of ‘Air on a G String’.” He paused, obviously waiting for Blythe to laugh. She raised her eyebrows. I’m sorry, she thought, I don’t actually think high school boy humour is funny. The CD had moved on to the next track, intensely fast-paced and building in tension.
Brad seemed to get the point.
“Well,” he said, “I’ve got to get rolling. You and me – dinner sometime soon? This Friday? How about 7:00 p.m.?”
He made it sound like it was a given that they would be going out. Blythe gulped for a second and then replied automatically,
“I don’t close the gallery until 8:00, sorry.”
“Well, 8:00 p.m. then?” He flashed another signature smile at her. Blythe squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry Brad, I am not at all interested in going out for dinner with you.” She gasped. Had that actually come out of her mouth? Had she really just said that to the handsome lawyer standing in front of her? She had! She wanted to jump for joy. She had done it! Brad suddenly didn’t look so suave or sexy anymore. His face was turning red.
“Excuse me?” he said, his voice starting to rise right along with the music.
“Brad,” she said quickly, “You heard me. I am sorry but I am not interested in dating you. Please leave now.” The second time it was easier to say, but he looked like he would choke.
“I can’t believe it,” he sputtered, “How could you not . . . ? Why would you not . . . ?”
Blythe shrugged and looked at him sympathetically.
“Sorry Brad, I’m looking for someone else.” The piano came down in a series of chords as if to put several sets of punctuation on the end of her sentence. Brad pulled himself back together and held up his hands in mock defeat.
“Alright,” he said, “I give up. I’m really sorry you’ll be missing out.” He turned around and walked out. Blythe collapsed back in her chair, exhausted from the effort of saying no.
“Are you ok?” asked Jacki, coming into the gallery with Josh. Josh paused to start looking at the paintings, while Jacki walked up to Blythe.
“Oh, hi,” said Blythe, “yeah, I’m great, actually!”
“You’re as white as a sheet!” said Jacki, “Josh and I are just out on a walk after dinner.”
“I’m fine, really I am,” Blythe said, “I feel like I just passed the exam for Rejection 101.”
“Oh really?” asked Jacki, leaning in over the counter like Brad had done, just a few minutes earlier, “That sounds juicy. Was it the guy we passed coming in?”
“Yes,” said Blythe, “I’m not interested in him but he’s been hanging around for weeks and randomly asking me out. At first I always managed to just say I was busy but I finally told him I wasn’t interested.” She paused.
“I still can’t believe I actually did it!” she said.
“Good for you,” said Jacki, “Did he take it ok?”
“Oh, he’ll be fine,” said Blythe scornfully, “by tomorrow, he’ll have moved on to making some other woman believe he’s God’s gift to women. He’ll end up pitying me for being so stupid as to pass up an opportunity like himself.”
Josh finally walked over to the counter as well.
“By the way, I love the Debussy,” he said, “I’m a huge fan of his work.”
Josh put on his shoes and flexed his fingers as he prepared to leave the house. It was the weekend of August 14-16th – an important weekend in the Edmonds yearly calendar, featuring the annual festival called “Taste of Edmonds.” Hundreds of vendors from restaurants all over the region participated, as well as some non-culinary companies.
Josh’s chiropractic clinic had a booth at the festival every year where they did free spinal evaluations and mini-massages. New to Edmonds and the clinic, Josh was preparing to leave for his first four hour shift helping at the booth.
“Well, here goes nothing,” he said to a sleepy Jacki, who shrugged sympathetically from her spot on the couch.
“I haven’t done any massage since the few courses I had to take when I was getting certified as an athletic trainer! I can’t believe they had to resort to using me.”
The clinic had five part-time massage therapists but only one had been available for the weekend, even though all of them had been working at the clinic several years and knew the event happened annually. Josh thought that was a bad sign.
He kissed Jacki on the way out the door and set out up the hill. It was a cool morning for August and he thought hopefully that it even looked like it could rain. By the time he got to Main street, he was grateful that he hadn’t driven over. Car lined every side street he passed and the event hadn’t even officially started yet.
“Hey Josh, glad you made it,” said Josh’s boss Dr. Melli when he found their booth. She smiled at him and handed him a rolled up banner.
“Can you put this up in the corner there?” She pointed. Josh frowned. No one would see the banner in the back corner of the booth. It was black and would be in shadow. Apparently the office manager, Julie, was thinking the same thing.
“No,” she said to Dr. Melli, “It definitely needs to go on the outside of the tent here!” Josh frowned again. No one would see it there either – it looked like the main foot traffic walked past the other side! He opened his mouth but shut it again when he saw the look on Dr. Melli’s face. He backed away to let the two women fight it out. Eventually the banner was hung in the darkest corner of the booth.
She’s the boss, Josh thought, no big deal. Twenty minutes later, he had been asked to move the massage chair to three different spots before it was in the right spot, then another mini-duel had been fought about how to display the brochures and how to organize the scheduling binder. Dr. Melli kept asking questions like, “Where are the pens? What about a stapler? Why didn’t anyone bring the a stapler? Why do we only have two clipboards? We always need at least five!”
“Jacki, nobody organized anything!” he moaned later, as he lay on the couch, icing his thumbs, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but they should have planned this out way ahead of time! The whole thing was a disaster.”
He closed his eyes. When he opened the again, Jacki had a smug grin on her face.
“Didn’t they have anyone who was in charge of the event?” Jacki asked.
“Apparently not,” Josh said, “Julie says all the necessary information lives only in Dr. Melli’s head. So planning the event only happens when Dr. Melli has time to think about, which unfortunately wasn’t very much.”
“But if they’ve been doing the event for years, why doesn’t someone else write everything down so they can reference a planning manual next year?”
Josh grinned at Jacki.
“But that would be too easy, Jacki.” He laughed, and shook his head mockingly, “Way too logical.”
She laughed too and didn’t say, “It’s just common sense,” the way she usually did.
“How did the massages go?” she asked, changing the subject, “Did you feel like you did okay?”
“Oh yeah,” said Josh, “when it’s only five minutes, it’s a cinch. And one person even told me that my five minute massage was better than the one-hour one they had two days ago,”
“Wow,” said Jacki, “You must be really good.” She sounded wistful but there was something in her tone that suddenly made Josh suspicious.
“So would I have to pay you $15 an hour,” she said, looking up at the ceiling, “to actually get a back massage once in awhile?”
Josh groaned.
“I should have seen that coming,” he rolled his eyes, “I give you back rubs.”
Jacki raised an eyebrow,
“Maybe once a quarter,” she said sternly. Then she smiled,
“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll let you off the hook for tonight.”
Josh lifted his now-frozen thumbs out of the ice packs and gave her two thumbs-ups.
“My thumbs thank you,” he said. Jacki rolled her eyes.
George and Verna woke up at 7:00 on Friday morning to the news on their radio alarm clock. They looked at each other and sighed.
“It’s just the weekend,” Verna said, trying to sound brisk and happy. Instead, she sounded unsure of herself.
“Friday from 6:00 p.m. to Sunday at 6:00 p.m. 48 hours.” moaned George, “Let’s hope they go quickly.”
Any outsiders would never have guessed that there was nothing George and Verna dreaded more than babysitting their grandchildren. They did love their grandchildren and, like typical grandparents, carried multiple photos and bragged about major milestones and accomplishments, “Abby won her bean bag race on Field day” and “Little Joey lost his first tooth!”
But in the quiet confines of their own home, they admitted to each other, that their grandchildren were best enjoyed in small doses, say two hours. Even four hours was pushing it. At least three times a year, though, they got the unwanted phone call.
“Hey Mom and Dad,” their daughter would say, “Will and I are planning to go to the San Juan Islands for a weekend. Abby and Joey are really excited to come stay with you.”
Abby, nine, was bossy and dramatic, sure that she had superior knowledge on most topics. Really what could her grandparents know? They were old! Joey, six, was whiny if you didn’t answer his questions. And he asked questions every other second. Why is Leroy three different colors? Why does he shed? What’s that? What’s a record player? What’s a record? What are we having for lunch? What else? We’re not having dessert?
Then the bawling would start. Joey cried about everything. Verna sighed. Sometimes, she wished it was still politically correct to say things like, “Boys don’t cry, dear.”
At breakfast, Leroy had a gut feeling something unpleasant was happening today. He wagged his tail nervously, hoping that his owners’ glum faces didn’t signal a trip to the vet. When Verna made up two cots in the office, Leroy relaxed. This wasn’t about the vet, there were visitors coming. He wagged his tail. Visitors meant attention!
But at 6:00 o’clock that evening, Leroy realized who the visitors were, as Abby and Joey rushed in and surrounded their grandmother in the kitchen, talking a mile a minute. Before Abby and Joey could attack t him and start rubbing his fur in all the wrong directions, he sneaked out of the living room and curled up under George and Verna’s bed. Henry, the cat was also there. For once, Leroy was only too happy to share the space with his enemy. Henry opened one eye and hissed. Leroy put his nose down between his paws and looked pleadingly at him. He also remembered not to wag his tail because he knew cats didn’t wave their tails to be friendly. It usually meant they were hunting something. The cat closed its eyes again.
Out in the living room, George realized they had forgotten to move their Chihuly glass from the coffee table to a safer place. He picked up the vase and several other pieces and also disappeared into the bedroom. He put the glass pieces in their closet, spotted Leroy’s tail under the bed, and smiled.
“That’s what I feel like doing too, Leroy,” he said. The tail thumped a few times and George went back to his shrieking grandkids.
“Grandpa! Grandpa! Guess what we brought?” Abby yelled in his ear as Joey screamed,
“No! I wanna tell! Let me tell!”
Abby held up a plastic bag with a small goldfish swimming in three inches of water.
“We brought you a goldfish!” Abby said triumphantly, holding the bag out of Joey’s reach. Joey started wailing.
George and Verna looked at each other. It was going to be a long weekend.
During the summer, Richard’s volleyball rec group played out on the grass field behind the Frances E. Anderson Center. While the volleyball rec night was pretty low-key and any 18 people could sign up to play every Thursday night, there was a core group of dedicated players that put on a decently competitive game. Richard liked that the high level of skill he encountered wasn’t matched by overly aggressive attitudes. The games were intense but friendly.
Richard kicked off his flip flops in the grass by the net. He said hello to the other regulars who were stretching and warming up and glanced around at the faces he didn’t recognize. There were three college guys that weren’t usually there. Richard sized them up. Nothing to be too worried about, he thought.
He was right. The three guys were there because they were bored. During a water break, he heard one of them say Blythe’s name.
“So you know, Blythe’s just gotten this pug,” said the tall one, whose name was Andrew,
“I stopped by her gallery yesterday. I think she really wants me.” His friend nodded politely. Richard blushed. How did this kid know Blythe? He barely looked old enough to be out of high school.
“I think she bought this dog because she’s lonely and it turns out the dog won’t obey her because his last owner was a male. Named the dog Cooper after his car. Crazy, huh?” Richard decided Andrew’s friend didn’t know where the conversation was leading either.
“So, I was thinking, obviously, if she wants to keep the dog under control, she’s going to need a man around the house,” Andrew laughed at his own brilliance, “I can’t wait to suggest it to her. I just have to find the right time. Most of the time she tries to pretend that she’s uninterested, you know – being really cold and uncommunicative. That’s how I can tell she really wants me. Women always do that when they really like someone.”
Richard frowned. Could that be true?
“True,” said the friend, although he didn’t look convinced either.
The game started again. Richard’s competitive flame had been fanned and he couldn’t help aiming a few more killer serves in Andrew’s direction. It was nice to see an enemy go down. Richard’s team won all 3 games they played.
“You’re on fire, tonight Richard!” said one of the regulars, slapping him on the back, “That block was amazing.”
Richard walked home, wishing that Blythe could have been there to judge between Andrew and his athletic skills. At least there, he knew he would win. Too bad he couldn’t be more certain of winning in categories like “Conversation skills” and “Romantic Ideas”. What if Blythe didn’t even care about athletic prowess?
No, I know she does, he thought, she said she played volleyball herself in high school. Anybody who has played sports, cares about athletic ability.
He turned into Beck’s Lane from 6th and walked up the short hill. At the top, he stopped. Even in the middle of condo-ville, the view was breath-taking. Straight-ahead, the mountains spread out in front of him, looking taller and closer in the red evening light. I’m lucky to live here, he thought.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” said a voice behind him. He turned his head and there was Blythe coming level with him, walking a very small pug.
“It is,” said Richard, as he fell into step with her, heart suddenly racing, “I envy you your view from your living room – you’re the only condo that can see the mountains.”
“I’m lucky,” said Blythe as they walked down the steep incline and reached the back of 515 Walnut Street, “although I think I did pay more than all of you for it!”
“When did you get a dog?” asked Richard. He stared hard at it. The pug looked like it was behaving.
“About a week ago,” sighed Blythe, “I’m having the hardest time getting it to obey me though!”
“Anything I can help with?” Richard asked. The question came out instinctively, in the same way he asked it of any client of his. But then he blushed. What on earth can I help with? he thought, I don’t have any ideas for dog-training.
“I wish you could,” said Blythe and gave him a smile, “I think he’ll get used to me afterwhile though. Meanwhile, it isn’t quite the blissful companionship I thought it would be.”
“What made you want one?” he asked, hearing Andrew’s ‘I think she’s lonely’ in his head.
“It was our dinner at George and Verna’s,” Blythe said, “Leroy was so entertaining and I liked how he lay down at George’s feet. You could tell they were friends.”
They reached Richard’s door.
“Have a good night,” she said as he unlocked it and she went past him up the stairs. Ask her out, thought Richard, fumbling with his keys, ask her out!
“Hey,” he said, before she reached her door, he paused and took a deep breath, “Blythe-”. She turned around as he paused again.
“Yeah?” she said. Her voice sounded nervous.
“You have a good night too,” he rattled off and closed his door before she could say anything else. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought and wanted to bang his forehead on the wall.
“There are just too many options!” groaned Jacki. She flopped back on the couch.
“It’s just one wall,” Josh said, “We can figure this out.”
“If only our furniture was more distinctive,” Jacki sighed, “our couches could go with half a million colors.”
“How about ‘Athenian Blue’?” Josh asked, flipping the swatch book towards Jacki.
“Don’t you think that will be too dark?” she asked, sitting up to look at the tab he was holding out to her, “Besides, I’m sick of blue. Everything I have is green and blue. I want to do something that looks unique and original.”
“‘Flamingo Orange’ then?” Josh laughed, and then took a second look, “Actually Jacki this might be really cool.”
“No!”
“Why not?” he asked, “Orange would be original.”
“Can you imagine feeling relaxed in this room, if that wall,” said Jacki, pointing,”was glaringly orange?!”
“True,” said Josh.
Outside there was a sudden commotion of barking.
Josh and Jacki opened the door.
On the path in front of the condo entrance, stood a tiny pug, yapping his head off at Leroy, who had just come down the stairs with Verna for an evening walk.
“Well hello,” said Verna, staring at the pug, “what’s your name?”
“Sorry,” said Blythe, as she came into to view from the mailboxes, “I just got him and he’s a little nervous, I think.”
Jacki ran down the steps and held out her hand to the pug. It stopped barking and sniffed at her.
“He’s so cute!” said Jacki, “What did you name him?”
“Cooper” said Blythe.
Leroy let out a woof and approached Cooper.
Josh laughed as the huge black Bernesse and the small tan Pug circled each other suspiciously.
“Cooper is your friend, Leroy,” said Verna in a stern voice. Leroy looked at her and grinned. Jacki thought he almost shrugged at her.
“We’re going for a nice walk now,” Verna said, “You all have a good night now.”
“Want to help us pick a paint color for our accent wall?” Josh suddenly asked Blythe.
“Ooh,” said Blythe, “What wall were you planning to do?”
“The fireplace wall,” said Jacki, inviting her in, “We just don’t know what to do, and I’m sick of looking exactly like everyone else following current trends.”
“That’s tough,” said Blythe, “I find the trendy colors get so ingrained in my head from seeing them everywhere that when I start a project I almost can’t remember there are other palettes to choose from!”
She paused to look around their room at the furniture and the large prints on the wall.
“Did you take all of these, Josh?” she asked.
“All except the far right one,” he said, “That’s one of Jacki’s.”
There were three large prints. The first one was a black and white one of silvery looking birch trees. The second one featured two ancient doors in the wall of some European city and the third one was a brightly colored abstract photo of several different materials juxtaposed.
“Well,” said Blythe, “My suggestion would be to find a color photo you both love and take color scheme ideas from that. You’re already almost doing that with your third photo. Your couches match the green tones, the vase over there pulls out the rust in the picture. If you were following this photo, I’d say you should paint the wall a warm yellow.”
Josh and Jacki stared at the photo and then looked around the room.
“That would really make the room cheerful,” Jacki said, sitting down to sort through to the yellow section of the swatch book.
“A lot better than doing grey, anyway,” said Josh, “We get enough gray light in this town.”
And then Cooper peed on their carpet.
“Oh no!” said Blythe, “I am so sorry. Let me clean that up for you!” She glared at Cooper, who started barking loudly.
“Be quiet!” she said. Cooper raised an eyebrow at her for a second and then continued barking.
“I don’t have enough authority,” Blythe moaned as she got down and started scrubbing at the spot with the paper towl and spray bottle that Jacki handed her.
“I’ve only had him a week, and I’m already exhausted,” she admitted, “He won’t listen to me. I think his last owner was a man.”
“Sit!” said Josh in a stern voice. Cooper sat. Blythe stared.
“Well there you go . . . ” she said as Josh took Cooper through a series of tricks.
“I had no idea he could do those,” said Blythe, “How am I going to get him to listen to me?”
“No idea,” said Jacki, “we don’t have pets.”
“I didn’t either, until a week ago,” said Blythe, “and now I’m trying not to regret my impulse buy!” She got up.
“I think the carpet will be fine,” she said, “Have fun picking a color for your wall!” And with a slightly harassed look, she followed her pug out the door.
It was close to midnight, long after the dinner party ended, and Blythe was lying on her stomach on the living room floor pretending to do a sudoku. In reality, she was chewing on the eraser of her mechanical pencil and thinking.
First of all, she thought, he’s actually more handsome than I thought. Then there was the fact that he had barely said anything to her and he definitely hadn’t stared at her. Instead he had spent most of the evening answering Jacki and Verna’s questions. Indirectly, Blythe had learned quite a lot about Richard without meaning to. He spoke well and was obviously very intelligent about things she would never understand.
She rolled onto her back and stretched. He liked volleyball and played on a rec league Thursdsay nights at the Francis Anderson center. Blythe had played volleyball in high school. It had always been her favourite sport because it didn’t require a lot of running. Maybe it would be fun to join a rec league again. As much as she loved all her girlfriends, going out for coffee or drinks every week wasn’t that exciting. A little variety might be nice.
And he doesn’t seem like the type to get the wrong idea about me showing up, she thought. He also liked to cook, maybe the most important fact Blythe had learned. High on her list of what she was looking for in a man, was “cooking skills.” This was one of the many reasons that Gary, Andrew and Brad were definitely no-gos, even though she had met Andrew at the PCC. He hadn’t been buying any real groceries, just lunch to go.
Blythe sighed. It had been such a calm evening. Strange to feel so relaxed after spending time with people I barely know, she thought. It was so different than spending time with her family. Her mother talked incessantly, was overbearing and rude about other people’s opinions. Her sister could never let go and started fights with her mother at every opportunity about events in the distant past. A dinner together usually frayed Blythe’s nerves and left her feeling exhausted and depressed. What a different life it would be to have parents like George and Verna.
George and Verna were classic seniors, full of stories about people no one else knew, that were interesting and funny nonetheless. Leroy provided ongoing entertainment just by being present. Blythe smiled. She liked dogs. Leroy really grinned at people when he opened his mouth. How could anyone feel depressed if they had such a cheerful dog in their lives? Maybe I should get a dog, Blythe thought, I don’t care if it sheds on the furniture.
Josh and Jacki were a fun couple. Lucky to have found someone to settle down with already. Josh had asked her a million questions about her gallery which had segued into an animated discussion about the science of good lighting. Finding another artist who shared the same creative wavelength was rare.
And Richard. There was something Blythe liked about him. Maybe it was just the sensed lack of pressure. He wasn’t pushy. He wasn’t demanding, not even subtley.
Blythe got up and pulled out her Macbook from under the coffee table.
I’m going to buy a dog, she thought, what kind do I want?
On the day of Verna’s dinner party for the whole building, Richard woke up feeling anxious. He lay in bed for a few more minutes after his alarm went off and stared searchingly at the ceiling. This is it, he thought, Judgment day is here. Unknowingly, Verna had determined the date and time of his fate. Tonight he would go to bed knowing that the odds had slightly improved or that he needed to cut his losses. He got up, thankful that he could at least go to work for the next 8.5 hours and try not to think about Blythe
At 5:45 that evening, Josh and Jacki were getting ready to go up the stairs at 6:00. Josh was wearing khaki shorts and a polo shirt. He didn’t think it was necessary to dress up for a visit with the neighbours but Jacki considered the words “dinner party” a great excuse to dress up and had put on one of her new sundresses that matched perfectly with the real sapphire necklace and earrings that Josh had given her for her birthday.
“Oh no!” said Jacki, “Do I need to bring a hostess gift?” She ran into the office and started rummaging through one of her drawers.
“Josh,” she wailed, “I don’t know what to bring? I’m so bad at this.”
Josh smiled and opened the snack drawer in the kitchen.
“How about this nice box of chocolates you said we shouldn’t open in case we needed it?” he asked. Jacki appeared in the doorway to look at the box he was holding up.
“Exhibit A,” he said with a flourish of his hand.
“Perfect!” said Jacki, relieved, “I’ll just put a ribbon on it.”
Josh sighed,
“You’re always giving away the dessert I want to eat,” he mourned.
“Always?” said Jacki, raising one of her eyebrows.
“Sorry,” said Josh, grinning, “I meant it seems like it happens often.” One of the best pieces of marital advice they’d received two years ago was to never say “Always”, “Never” or “You’re the one who” when speaking to each other. Surprisingly, it had stuck in both their minds and did help to diffuse many potentially tense situations.
“We finally get to find out who the financial guy is,” said Jacki.
Upstairs Verna was trying not to swear at Leroy.
“You stupid dog,” she said, as she almost tripped over him again. Leroy was having the time of his life. Verna so rarely cooked large meals anymore and in the flurry of activity, her usually spotless kitchen floor had been the recipient of many delicious drips. Verna kicked at Leroy as he darted forward again.
“Get out of here,” she yelled. “GEORGE!”
George got up and hauled Leroy out of the kitchen and into the office.
“Sorry, Leroy,” he said, “but you’re not invited to dinner.” He closed the door. Leroy lay down and put his nose on his paws, pouting. He always got left out of everything fun.
Richard knocked on the door at 5:59, wearing a white dress shirt and gray slacks. He blushed when he realized he was the first to arrive. His habit of punctuality was like a curse when it came to social engagements. Josh and Jacki came next and acted as a buffer when Blythe walked in the door, in a striped boat-neck sleeveless top and soft black gouchos.
Verna smiled from Richard to Blythe and seated them next to each other at the table. Actually, thought Richard, it’s easier this way. This way he didn’t need to worry about staring at her.
“Did you know,” said Jacki, as they worked their way through the delicious steak and potatoes Verna had prepared, “that they have little yellow rain jackets for dogs now? I walked by a lady whose dog was wearing one and I thought ‘How odd!’ because half of the dog was still totally wet from kicking up the water on the pavement.”
“That’s really silly,” said Verna, “Imagine trying to get a rain coat on Leroy!” Everyone laughed as they tried to picture the rather overweight Bernese Mountain dog in that much yellow material.
“Did you see the lightning today?” Blythe asked. George, Verna and Jacki nodded.
“There was lightning?” asked Richard at the same time that Josh said, “What lightning?”
“We had a mini-storm right after 2:00 this afternoon,” said Blythe, turning to look at Richard with a smile, “Don’t you have a window in your office?” Richard paused blankly.
“Well, I sure don’t,” said Josh, obliviously to the sudden shift of atmosphere in the room, “and we have the radio going all the time so I wouldn’t have heard the thunder either. I’m sad I missed it.”
Next to him, Jacki had suddenly picked up on the fact that Richard liked Blythe. He had looked from her to his plate and back so quickly and shyly.
“I do have a window,” Richard said to Blythe, “but it’s behind me and with the bright fluorescent lighting I don’t think I would notice lightning.” Verna smiled at George, who rolled his eyes. They would be such a nice couple, she thought.
For dessert, everyone moved to the living room and Verna brought out pie and ice cream for everyone. Then she let Leroy out of the office.
“Help yourself, Leroy,” she said, indicating the kitchen floor. Leroy wagged his tail at her. It was so nice to get these kind of rewards for being good. He went to work on the gravy spots and also found some good-sized crumbs under the dining room table before he settled in the living room at George’s feet. A piece of the steak would have been nice, but he knew that was hoping for too much.
When the sounds of scraping the last drops of ice cream from the bowl had ceased, there was a short and contented silence in the group.
It’s nice to have good neighbours, Jacki thought.
I wish my family coulds be this quiet, thought Blythe.
That pie was good, thought Josh.
So far, so good, thought Richard.
That pie was good, thought George.
And Verna said,
“George dear, this peace was just making me think of that beautiful Longfellow poem you memorized in high school. Would you say it for us?”
And without thinking it was the least bit odd, the rest of the company turned and waited for George to speak.
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
-Longfellow
Josh drove home from work frustrated. The beautiful view of the sound as he drove down into the Edmonds bowl didn’t cheer him up like it usually did. And the fact that the Mariners game always went static half way down the hill didn’t help. Every patient today had not been doing his home exercises as instructed and were therefore not seeing the results Josh had expected. He hadn’t been doing his job long enough to just let it go. The other practitioners at the clinic could just shrug. It didnt’ bother them anymore that some people really didnt’ want to get all, as long as there were the few star patients who improved drastically and made great efforts to be more healthy.
He pulled into the garage at 515 Walnut street and sat in the car for a few more minutes listening to the scratchy but audible Mariners game in hopes of a home run to put him in a better mood. No such luck. He got out of car and noticed George in the corner of the garage, going through a storage closet.
“Hi George,” said Josh, feeling that he should do the neighbourly thing and at least say hello, “How was your day?”
“Oh the usual,” said George, emerging from the closet with a large box, “Breakfast and paper, walk to the dog park with Leroy, coffee, reading, lunch, nap, more reading, maybe some TV . . .”
“Sounds like a nice life,” said Josh, “don’t you get bored?”
“Of course,” said George, opening the box and looking through it, “That’s why I’m down here rifling through boxes trying to find my old slide-viewer. A friend of mine says we can get all our slides onto the computer and saved on CDs. Figure it will save the kids a lot of time, if I go through them all now.”
“How many kids do you have?” asked Josh.
“Two. A son in California in the film business. We don’t hear from him much. And our daughter in Spokane. The grandkids come stay with us every few months. You’ll meet them soon.”
“Hmmm,” Josh nodded and turned to go the steps.
“How was your day?” George asked, his head deep in the back of the closet again as he pulled out the next box.
“Fine,” said Josh. He paused for a second, “If you were going to a physical therapist because you were in a lot of pain and he or she gave you great exercises to do at home so that you could get better faster, would you do them?”
George straightened up and looked at Josh with a smile.
“Nope,” he said, “I probably couldn’t be bothered.”
Josh laughed.
“That’s honest,” he said, “Most of them say they’re too busy or too tired or can’t remember. Or they lie and say they have done them, but I can tell that they haven’t.”
“Well,” said George, “I think we do things like that all the time. I call it the ‘Generally Disregarded Advice’ category, where all useful instructions get filed that we don’t actually want to do. The barrier is usually the perceived amount of effort we would have to put in. We keep them tucked away in the folder, knowing we should do those things, but mostly choosing to ignore them.”
“But they’re paying to receive the advice!”
“You can’t fight where they file your advice,” George laughed, “I used to give my kids very clear instructions, study these chapters, read these sections, do the sample test questions at the end of the section and you’ll be well prepared for the test. How many kids do you think did it?”
“Not many?” asked Josh.
“Usually only 5-6 kids,” he said, “The rest would complain there was a question on something we didn’t talk about it class. It was always in the sections I had told them to read. First few years I felt like kicking a wall. Then I realized it was probably good for me. Kept me humble, knowing there were 50 or 60 kids disregarding my excellent advice.”
Josh sighed.
“How many of your patients are male?” George asked.
“Today? All of them,” said Josh.
“Not to be biased,” said George, winking, “But from one man to another, we men don’t like to follow other people’s advice that much . . . especially when it comes to health care.”
Josh grinned. George was funnier than he thought.
“Have a good night, George,” he said on his way out.
Blythe sat on her balcony, sketching the geranium leaves and the spider web in the balcony railing below them. She had two window boxes of geraniums attached to her balcony railing and so far they hadn’t died. She was quite impressed with herself. She forced herself to sketch for an hour or two every week. Even though she loved drawing and painting, it felt like a chore. Why does it still require discipline to do the things we love doing? she wondered again. Every week, she procrastinated, unable to find something interesting enough to sketch, feeling like she had already drawn every object in her house. Surely I don’t need to sketch that chair again, I could probably do it blind-folded, she would think.
Today, it had suddenly hit her, that the geranium leaves would be perfect. Thrilled with actually having a moment of inspiration, she grabbed her pencils and sketchbook and settled down outside. The weather was coolish but it hadn’t rained yet. The geraniums were getting some good evening light. A nice little challenge. An organic object.
As she sketched, she thought about the crazy professor she had had for Life Drawing in college. On the small platform in the art room, he would walk around and around the models, in his white lab coat and a short pointer which he had probably carved himself.
“Remark the angle of the femur,” he would say, pointing at a thigh, “Notice the pronounced clavicle”, indicating the collarbone. Except for the fact that there was a living nude model, it could have been an Anatomy and Physiology class. She smiled. He had definitely embraced the image of mad scientist. At the time, she hadn’t thought twice about it, but now she wondered if he had done it on purpose, subtly linking art and science, trying to show them the benefit of understanding both worlds. Her observation skills had improved dramatically.
Below her, she heard the squeak of the balcony door opening in Number #2. The balconies were all private, in-set into the building but you could still easily hear any conversations floating in the air. There was an almost unwritten rule that you didn’t use your balcony if you knew someone else was out on theirs. Blythe heard the click-click-click of the gas barbeque starting. Hmm dinner, she thought, what am I going to eat? She had a sinking feeling that she had eaten the last of her frozen dinners two nights ago.
Blythe hated cooking. In this one area of her life, she felt completely and totally uncreative. She could open a fridge door and stare for long minutes without coming up with any ideas, whereas several of her friends had this uncanny knack for opening the same fridge door and whipping up marvelous and unique creations in thirty minutes.
Suddenly a large flying ant landed on Blythe’s arm. She shrieked and brushed it off. The noise on the balcony below her stopped.
“I’m fine,” she called out spontaneously and then instantly regretted it. Thankfully there was only silence below and then a soft shuffle as Richard went back into his living room.
Downstairs, Richard was blushing. She had talked to him, she had realized he was listening. In the kitchen, he picked up the plate and the BBQ sauce and walked slowly back towards the balcony door. If only he could just call up casually, “Want to have a burger?” There was nothing to it – she had even started the conversation.
He walked out the door and laid the burgers on the grill and then sat down in the small folding chair. He couldn’t say it. He listened. Above the sizzle on the BBQ, he heard six or seven distinct thwacks, like a large fly hitting a window.
“Hello bugs,” said Blythe and giggled. She doesn’t realize I’m back out here, thought Richard holding still.
“Look at you trying so desperately to get in.” It made her laugh to see the large black fly repeatedly hurl itself against first the balcony door, then the window next to it. The burger smell started to make her hungry. She wanted one too. She got up, the geranium leaves completed. Time to treat myself to a burger, she thought and walked inside to find her wallet and keys.
Downstairs, Richard looked up.
“Would you like a burger?” he said out loud. But he was now the only one out on the balconies of 515 Walnut Street. He sighed.
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