I dropped from the apartment balcony and willed my feet to make contact with the railing of the unit below. There was a moment of darkness and panic while I stretched out and found the narrow wrought iron with my boots. I felt blindly for the pillar that should be there and found it. Gripping the cool metal pole tightly I finished my exit from above to the unit below.
I slid into the balcony space and took a breath. I let the world swim a little and then got my shit back together. The breeze that continually exhaled up the side of the apartment building was warm and dehydrating. My sinuses were filled with dust and fumes making it hard to get a proper lung full of air. When I was calmed and focused I located the tools from my shoulder bag and got to work.
Looking carefully I found the little clusters of pinpoint paint spray on the sliding glass door in front of me. I began to eradicate them with a razor blade. The glass was the easy part. This particular unit had a set of patio furniture. I know the residents had been asked to bring in their items prior to painting but most of them had neglected to do so. Furniture was a little more difficult, I applied paint thinner with a rag and then went to work. Doing my best to get rid of the pale pink paint and keeping the original of the furniture.
The balcony took me about a half hour to clean. While I was working I had a chance to look through the glass at the apartment beyond. It was clean and filled with photos and pillows. A bowl filled with hard candy sat temptingly on an end table not far from my vantage point. Most importantly the unit appeared empty.
Taking advantage of the plastic furniture on the balcony I moved a chair as far into the shadow as possible and took a seat. I was mostly hidden from below and tucked in behind where the rose patterned curtains protected me from the occupants of the unit. I closed my eyes.
An old friend of mine had given me this job. He ran a couple of painting crews from the driver's seat of his truck. Most of his employees were undocumented men from Central America. They were the hardest working people I had ever met and this particular crew had finished this job a few days before, leaving me here on site to clean.
My neighbor friend had explained why he needed me to monkey up and down the side of the building and not his regular guys. Most of these units were occupied by widows of a certain age, who might react poorly to the sight of a muscular brown man dropping onto their balcony carrying razor blades and rags soaked in suspect chemicals. I thought it was silly but also knew the racism of older white ladies could be really hard to gauge.
So far most of these ladies had greeted me with indifference. The management had warned them I would be there to clean up the paint left by the actual crew. I had the occasional interaction, most of them were pretty pleasant and seemingly very lonely.
The sound of movement inside the apartment tickled my brain back into consciousness. I rolled out of the chair and began wiping it down with my rag. It wasn't long before I heard a tap on the glass. I looked up and was faced with a smiling wrinkled matron waving at me. She looked like a talker. I did my best to shake away the cobwebs from my nap before she could get her sliding glass door open.
"It's so hot out here."
She was cute, kind of shrunken down. I guessed she was in her late eighties. The hands were always the best way to form a guess. Hers were wizened and gnarled by arthritis. Definitely eighties, maybe even nineties.
"Ah it's not so bad, at least your balcony is in the shade."
I gave her my most charming smile, the reason I had been hired.
"Would you like some ice cream?"
I would've loved some ice cream, but knew I was supposed to say no. This hadn't been the first time I'd been offered something sweet from one of the residents.
"No, Thank you. I should probably get moving. I'm just finishing up here."
She nodded her head and then peered out past me,
"I think it's after twelve, let's have a beer."
I answered yes before I could stop myself.
She disappeared into the depths of her unit and then came back with a couple of open Budwiessers. Not my favorite beer but damn if it wasn't the perfect thing on a hot day of dusty work.
"I am Shan."
I introduced myself to Shan and took a seat across the plastic table from her. She was a funny lady. Quick witted and full of jokes. She asked me about my job and seemed shocked that I didn't have any safety equipment. I lied and told her I was a rock climber and that this kind of work was way safer than that.
The truth was, I feared for my life every time I finished a balcony. I was either dropping from one level to another or shimmying across to a next door unit. My neighbor was paying me okay for the work so I didn't complain.
Twenty minutes of chat and I knew Shan's life story, at least the broad strokes. I finished my beer and thanked her. I was getting ready to slide over to her neighbors place when a voice came from inside the unit.
"Grandmother?"
Shan called back into the relative dark and soon a pretty redhead emerged into the light. My new friend introduced us and I gave Alice a wave. Her lips did a weird little twitch and she shot me a glare. Turning to her Grandmother.
"Why is he here?"
She pointed at the beers.
"Oh Alice, unwad your panties. He's a nice man, we had a beer. He's here to clean up paint, don't worry your inheritance is safe. Besides, you know I only date widowers."
She turned to me,
"You're not a widower are you?"
I shook my head,
"Not yet."
She smiled at me,
"Well give me a call when you are."
Shan gathered the empties in one hand and her brittle granddaughter in the other. Bringing them all inside. Dismissed, I straddled the balcony and made the little hop to the next unit.
An hour later I was almost done with Shan's level. I looked down and saw a young woman lounging by the pool. It took a second to realize this was Alice. She wore big red sunglasses and I couldn't tell if she was watching me or sleeping. I tended to ignore the pool as I worked. Nothing against older women, but I was a young man and had yet to discover the appeal of the more mature editions.
Alice was long and thin. Her white one piece was cut high at the hips and accentuated her sinewy thighs and calves. For all that red hair she wasn't as fair as I would've suspected. Her body seemed as sharp as her personality had been. All angles and not much for comfort. She wasn't unattractive. Far from it, she was beautiful, her body lean and strong. Stretched out on a white plastic chaise lounge like a hungry kitten.
I did my best not to stare. Concentrating on those little pink dots of exterior paint that had covered the entire building. The day went quickly after that. Soon I was back on the ground and waiting for my old neighbor to pick me up in his truck.
I'd known him for most of my life. A good guy, quiet and damaged. We had come from the same place and bonded over our similar childhoods and traumas. Not that we discussed them ever. But, there were times where I knew just what he was thinking. We didn't have to vocalize it, just a nod of brotherhood and move on.
I had a sister at home that I looked after. She did enough talking for the both of us and I tried to accommodate her. Growing up how we did and being female hadn't been easy, but she seemed to revel in talking about the past. Needless to say I enjoyed those silent truck rides with my friend.
My sister had insisted on therapy, with the help of a social worker. Her goal was to shed our past entirely. I wished her the best when I could, no reason for her to drown with me. She still had a year of high school to finish and I was doing my best to pay the bills and be supportive of what she viewed as growth. Never not feeling damned to hell myself. We had a lot of help from our neighbor. I owed him a lot and almost felt bad for slacking off on the job.
By the end of the week I had finished the apartment building. I took my time on the ground floor units, not wanting to sit around and wait for my ride for too long. I heard Alice call me from between the wrought iron gate around the pool.
