Clarity

Still August

The landlord came by about a week ago, and got the rent money from my mom. If we were renting this house back in Portland, it would have been a couple grand. Get this. 

Rent is only five hundred dollars. 

The landlord is a sweet old couple. Ralph and Gloria. They lived here before. They even were impressed by what my mom had done with the place. 

More like what I had done with the place. I have nothing better to do than busy work around the house. I would mow the lawn, but Noah does it. 

No one asked him to, he just does it when he mows his. I guess he's used to women cleaning and men doing the hard labor. 

My mom and I have been doing the hard labor for three and a half years, I think we can manage to mow the law. I'm actually okay with him mowing it though, because it's hot out, and I'd rather not mow the lawn when it's over ninety degrees outside. 

Gloria told us we could paint if we wanted to, but nothing too crazy. I'm thinking black is out of the question. I went to the hardware store yesterday and got a gallon of primer, and a gallon of white and a light turquoise paint. I ordered some wood, and my mom is supposed to pick it up after she's done grocery shopping. I have a feeling this run down house with solid bones is going to be my home until I graduate. Three years. 

I might as well build some bookcases and stuff, so my records and books aren't piled in the corner anymore. I am starting to trip on them. 

I moved everything to the center of my room, and opened my windows. I was lucky there wasn't any damage to the walls, because I didn't want to wait any longer before I covered the terrible nicotine yellow paint. 

I slapped some primer on the walls, and it was already looking better. I turned up my record player, and Frank Sinatra was telling me to come fly with him. I was dancing like an idiot, and rolling my paint roller up and down the wall. I was singing along dramatically, and stopped in my tracks when I heard someone laughing. I turned around, and Noah was in the stupid tree watching me. 

"I will cut those branches," I warned, "I swear. I can use a chainsaw just fine." 

"I'd pay to see you wielding a chainsaw. Five feet, and a hundred pounds using a chainsaw would be awesome to witness." I looked at him longer than I normally did, and raised an eyebrow as I went back to my rolling. 

"If you're going to make fun of me, you could help," I said, "grab a brush or something." 

"Just because my uncle paints, doesn't mean I like to," Noah said, climbing in through my window. He walked over toward me, and I moved further down my wall. 

"What color are you going to paint your room, Picasso?" Noah asked, grabbing a paint brush. 

"It's called Serenity," I said, looking over at the paint cans, "it's like a light turquoise." He took the screw driver that was sitting on top of the cans, and pried it open. 

"This is pretty," he told me. I nodded. 

"Yep."

"It looks like there's some gray in it though," Noah said. I slowly looked over at him. He stuck his index finger into the paint, and put the lid back on it. He walked over to me. 

"See," he said, moving his finger out of the sunlight, and into the shadows, "it's got some gray in it." I stared at his finger, and he was right. 

"I didn't want gray," I said softly. He smiled, and wiped his finger off on my shirt. I stepped away from him, and he chuckled. 

"You're so weird," Noah said, "I touched your shoulder. It's not like I'm looking to kiss you or something." 

I looked down at my feet, and rolled the paint roller in more primer. The way Noah had said he wasn't looking to kiss me made me remember he had a girlfriend. Sometimes I was under the impression he was interested in more than friendship, but other times I was pretty sure he was gay. I don't care what people say, boys are way more confusing than girls.