A Work in Progress WC:299

A Work in Progress
WC 299

Jeremy spread the drop cloth. His wife would kill him if paint splattered on the new flooring.

“This grout is impossible to clean, so be careful,” were Carolyn’s last words before she left for her second day as a florist.

“I’ll be the one that has to clean it,” he wanted to say but bit his tongue.

Since he lost his job at the car plant, Jeremy wasn’t much good for anything except checking off items on Carolyn’s list. He had done everything by the book, and they laid him off, anyway.

Carolyn had changed; she seemed bossier now that she had an outside job. Or maybe he had changed.

He ran the roller through the tray and began painting the white wall a dusky gray. He would save the window wall for last. He hated masking around the panes of glass.

Jeremy finished the wall and stepped back to admire his work.

“Oh, no. Hell no!”

He dialed his wife. “Carolyn, the color looks like it belongs in a jail cell.”

“Look, I’m busy. Just finish the job and I’ll look when I get home.”

Jeremy realized that’s how he used to talk to her when she called him at work with a problem. And when he got home, he was usually distant, still reeling from the day. Feeling neglected, Carolyn would pout. They would fight.

After the painting was complete, he got cleaned up and started dinner. He had just sat down when she walked in.

“I like it,” she said, “And not a drop of paint on the grout.”

Carolyn kissed him on the forehead. “You smell good.”

He kissed her back and pulled her into the recliner alongside him.

“Tell me about your day, honey. We have fifteen minutes until the pot roast is ready.”