Who would be looking for me here? What did they want? I was pulled from my frozen paranoia by the second knock.
Stop it, Morg, I mean Riley. I said quietly but out loud as I made my way to the door.
“Hi. I’m Lauren. I live in the uglier than your blue house, across the road,” my new neighbor said, introducing herself.
I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Riley, but everyone calls me Ry.” I was smiling to myself when I remembered that aspect of my new life. I had forgotten to mention that to Millie earlier.
“Wow, it looks like you have your work cut out for you,” she observed peeking around me.
I suddenly realized that I was being rude. “Come in,” I offered. “I really don’t have a seat to offer or anything to drink,” I teased.
Lauren walked through the door. “Wow, the inside paint is worse than the outside,” she stated, and I laughed.
“I forgot how bright it was in here.”
She must have been in here before.
“That will be altered tonight,” I assured her.
“I have a friend that does construction if you want his number.”
“Maybe for the outside, the inside has got to be done tonight. I have furniture coming by noon tomorrow,”
All of a sudden I comprehended how much I had to do and what little time I had to do it. I was happy to have a neighbor, and I thought Lauren, and I would become friends. I just didn’t want to be her friend at that moment. I had too much to do.
“Well I won’t keep you,” she said, and I was glad.
The first thing I did was fill the mop bucket with hot sudsy lemon cleaner. I smiled. The yellow paint with the citrus, lemony smell made perfect companions.
It was almost four o’clock in the evening, and I really, really wanted to get the yellow painted over before my furniture came the next day. I had planned on painting the living room as soon as the walls were washed down, but decided to go ahead and wash the kitchen down as well that way I could continue painting and get that done too.
The living room took fifty seven minutes. Five o’clock. I was hungry. Why the hell was I forgetting about food so much? Oh, yeah because I am used to having meals prepared and waiting on me. That was another one that I would have to get used to.
The kitchen had taken longer than I had anticipated because of having to clean all of the cabinets. It was now almost seven. I was still hungry. I sat on the floor leaned up against the glass door. I had already moved the ugly plastic tables and chairs out to the deck. I was eating crumbs from the bottom of a two day old Cheetos bag when someone was at the door again.
Once again my heart sank. Why didn’t I lock the door? Lauren didn’t wait for me to answer that time and opened the door, causing me to freeze in a panic.
“Relax,” she said, seeing my shocked paralyzed face and stiff posture.
I smiled when I noticed her carrying a large pizza and a six pack of beer. She had changed clothes and was now wearing old jeans with a pink checkered flannel shirt.
Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back and hiding underneath a tied bandanna.
My mouth was already salivating. Pizza, just what I needed. Not so much the beer. I had never liked beer. I was more of a wine kind of girl. No. Wait a minute. I drank wine because that was what Drew drank. Have I ever had beer? Yes. I did. I was thirteen, and some friends and I hid under a bridge, and I drank one. Did I like it? I didn’t remember.
“You are my new best friend,” I told Lauren, patting the wood floor next to me. I didn’t mind wasting twenty minutes. I needed food, and pizza was just what the doctor ordered. That would definitely make me feel better, and I would probably work faster, having some nourishment and regenerated energy.
We sat side by side, leaned against the glass doors and shared a pizza. Lauren probably thought I was a pig. I think I swallowed the first piece whole. I did drink a beer, and I didn’t mind it a bit. I wouldn’t say that I loved it, but it was okay.
“Well, we better get busy,” Lauren stated, closing the pizza box.
I looked at her with a little bit of confusion mixed with hope. “I am not going to let you help me paint,” I demanded with my head tilted.
Please help me paint, please help me paint.
“The way I see it, you don’t have a choice. I am doing nothing but sitting at my house watching reruns of Greys Anatomy. Now where are the paint pans?” she asked, and I smiled, happy that she wasn’t giving me a choice. There was one problem, however.
“Paint pans?” I asked. I hadn’t bought paint pans. I just bought paint and brushes.
“You don’t have any pans?” she asked. I shook my head.
“What about rollers?”
I shook my head again, and she laughed. “Come on.
Let’s take a walk.”
She took the unlocked lock from her shed door and took the two pans with four rollers and handed them to me.
“Do you have any drop clothes?” she asked.
Where was my mind? I had forgotten everything. I had never painted a day in my life. How was I supposed to know that you needed more than paint and brushes?