Holiday History
It is amazing how quickly your life can change. Just two short years ago, I was getting ready to end my junior year of college. I picked out all the senior history classes I wanted to take. The school was letting me design my own major, and I was focusing all my time on nautical history. After the semester, I was ready for a nice, long summer break sailing on the lake with my boyfriend, Brian.
I aced my finals, getting better grades than I expected. Brian and I were spending every spare moment screwing in his dorm bed, not wanting to be apart for a second. I was practically singing as I went to register for my fall classes.
The song died in my throat when they informed me my tuition was still unpaid. I knew if I waited too long, all the good classes would be closed, so I went straight to the business office to clear things up. I was pissed and ready to invoke the name of my rich father to get things worked out. Instead, I found out my father failed to send the fat check on time, and I was shit out of luck.
It turned out that my perfect, rich family was falling apart. My perfect father had managed to gamble through his stock portfolio and my entire college fund. Despite the lack of money, however, I didn’t qualify for financial aid. Even with the losses, my family was worth too much. All the houses, holdings, and a big damn boat meant we were still rich. My parents’ quickie divorce became final a few months later, and after Brian found out he would soon be fucking a townie, he dumped me. His attraction disappeared as fast as the rest of my rich friends did. I was on my own.
Until I met Tim.
* * *
A light snow fell out of the grey sky. I pried open the can for my latest job. More beige paint. Everyone loved beige paint. Of all the colors in the world, I couldn’t believe that people chose it for their homes. Sometimes, we would get lucky and have some blues or greens, but most of the time it was boring beige. That was my job—turning a white room into a slightly less white room. But painting paid the bills, for now.
Most of the time, it was just Tim and me working. He hired me despite the fact that I had been to college. He didn’t think too much of college types, even ones like me who hadn’t made it through. I think he hired me out of pity, and I was happy to exploit that fact every chance I got. He left me alone a lot, because I showed up on time and didn’t fuck up too often. It seemed like a small thing, but to Tim, I may as well have been the smartest guy around. There were a few other painters who would breeze through from time to time, but I was the only full-time person Tim would allow. As I said, pity could be a powerful thing.
“Hey, kid, do you have those extra rollers, or did I leave them in the truck?”
“I think they’re in the truck, Tim.”
“Well, don’t just stand there, go get them. I’m not paying you to stand around.”
“Mixing paint isn’t standing around. But I get your point. I’ll go.”
When I got back inside the house, Tim was on the phone, jotting down information for another job. Before he had the chance to yell at me again, I headed to the dining room. I stood and stared at the walls, shaking my head in disbelief. They were already beige. And, save for a few tiny scuffmarks near the baseboards, the room was immaculate. I could never understand why people would pay someone good money to paint a whole room when they could fix the problem with a sponge and some soap. Just as I started the work, Tim came in.
“Hey, kid. Good news. We finally have a job that’s going to pay some decent money. I just got off the phone with some guy who wants his whole house painted before the holidays. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah, Tim. God, that sounds like a dream come true. I can’t wait.”
“Have I ever mentioned that nobody likes a smartass?”
“You may have said something about it before.”
“I’m just saying, the more money I