I never did have great gaydar, so it wasn't a big surprise I hadn't pegged Chance as playing for our team. But I can honestly say I have never been happier to discover another guy is gay. And I did spend a couple of happy moments imaging making out with Chance on a warm summer night in a truck parked in the back of a field (the preferred place for hooking up in the country) that afternoon as I, man bun and poncho back in place, finished burning the remaining trash.
But I knew, even as I enjoyed imagining what he looked like underneath that plaid shirt that it was nothing more than just an enjoyable daydream. Even at my best, he was way out of my league, and my mental state was much worse that than my physical. I definitely wasn't over Reed yet, though I hadn't contacted him since the day after the funeral. And I as a long time practitioner of the wisdom of not shitting where you eat, I couldn't imagine anything worse than trying to hook up with the closest thing I had to a neighbor and having it all blow up in my face..
I did, however, shower, trim my beard, apply cologne and make sure I was wearing something presentable the next day in anticipation of his visit to talk about the equipment purchase. Unfortunately, my preparations were in vain; he texted a little after lunch saying he would have to postpone coming over indefinitely. I have to admit I was somewhat crestfallen; while I liked solitude, I was a bit lonely and any visitor, especially one that easy on the eyes was welcome. In fact, when they guys came to deliver my mattress later that day, I found myself chattering away at them like old people do when someone calls.
I had managed to prime and paint the bedroom, so I was able to go ahead and set the bed up. I had painted the walls a warm white; with the drab, dark paneling painted, the room looked so much brighter and larger. I planned to use the same paint color through most of the rest of the house, including the trim and ceilings, but in here, I painted the ceiling a beautiful soft robin's egg blue. I had actually liked the rusted patina of the iron frame, so I had stabilized the rust so it wouldn't deteriorate further and then sealed it so the rust wouldn't rub off on linens.
I went with crisp all white cotton bedding. It was the first time I had used white sheets and a duvet cover in a long time. Reed didn't like them, feeling they weren't practical and stained easily. Considering that the only contribution he had ever made to any household cleaning was to write the check for a housekeeper (after we were able to afford one), I had always wondered why he cared if they were difficult to care for. It hadn't been a big enough issue for me to make a big deal over it, but I really enjoyed climbing into that pile of sweet smelling white bedding that I had dried in the sun, and I felt that stretching out over the full surface of the queen sized bed was Heaven.
Privacy wasn't an issue, and I actually liked sunlight waking me up in the morning. However, I knew the sun would be much stronger in the warm months and I didn't like the black holes the windows made at night, so I made simple relaxed Roman shades of unlined, unbleached cotton that softly filtered the light. A floor lamp and a wooden straight chair used as a side table made the room functional for now, but with the bed in place, I was anxious to finish it. I did want it to be a retreat as I worked on the rest of the house and the overgrown grounds.
Looking around, I tried to picture the missing pieces. I didn't want to add a lot more furniture. The room wasn't large, and I honestly didn't need much more. All my clothes fit in the closet, and I didn't plan on having a tv in my bedroom. After the increasingly elaborate houses Reed and I had lived in, I felt like embracing minimalism. Still, I wanted a large side table for a better reading lamp and to told the piles of books I tended to accumulate, not to mention my laptop, tablet and other electronics. And the wall across from the bed, the only really large expanse of wall unbroken by doors or windows was crying out for a large piece of art.
I had the two perfect pieces, I realized. One of the few pieces of furniture that had survived the flooding of my apartment was my grandmother's table. Once it dried, it was as good as new except for the rusted castors. I guess it's not surprising it survived since family legend was that my grandfather, with the help of some friends, had fished the solid maple top out of the Mississippi after a flood and had built a new base for it. It was large, but would definitely fit in the space between the bed and the corner. Plus I missed using it.
As for the art, one of my favorite painting I had ever done was a very large, 6 foot by 6 ½ foot diptych, an abstract view of Lake Pontchartrain done in the watery blue/gray/green tones I preferred. I had painted it for Reed's first house, but it had moved from place to place. The problem was, of course, that those pieces were in New Orleans in storage.
I had told Reed that I didn't care what happened to the things I had left behind, but I suppose even then I knew that wasn't really true. I didn't want a lot, but as I left the master bedroom and wandered the house making notes of the furniture I needed, I realized that I did miss some of my things. In addition to the table and painting, I wanted the two leather chairs that I bought for my first apartment after Katrina; they had been the first real adult pieces of furniture I had ever purchased, and even with my employee discount had been hideously expensive.
The were made in the U.S., with hand tied springs and down cushions. They weren't huge, and had sleek lines. But the distressed brown leather recalled the classic club chairs of the 1930s and 1940s, and the down cushions insured that sitting in them was extra comfortable. At the same time I bought the chairs, I had also purchased a platform bed from the same company, dark wood with an upholstered headboard. With the chairs, it had also moved from my French Quarter apartment to Reed's first house and then the subsequent others. And there were some other things, books, favorite cookware, etc. that I missed. When I got a bit further along, a trip to New Orleans to the storage unit to retrieve at least some of my possessions seemed inevitable.
Even without the final bedroom touches, I had a comfortable bed and a serene space to head to at the end of the day. Now, I was ready to tackle some more ambitious projects, like, the kitchen.
I had no intention of doing anything too major. The cabinets, solid wood stained to match the paneling, were still solid, and I even liked the retro look of the Early American style hammered hardware. I hated the dreary stain, though, and painted them to match the Walls, but in a glossier finish. The stove, dishwasher, and refrigerator were relatively new, and since they were white, fit well into the new scheme.
I did remove the row of cabinets that hung from the ceiling over the kitchen peninsula. Even as a kid, I had felt they looked heavy and they blocked the open feel of the room. Removing them wasn't that difficult, but I did have to be careful not to damage the cabinets they joined, and the ceiling required patching. Electrical work, except for the most basic kind, intimidated me, so I called my old decorator boss in Russville for the name of an electrician and got him to install simple glass pendants over the bar. While Blake, the electrician, was there, I got him to replace the dark, dated fans with sleeker models. Since the new fans didn't have light kits, I got Blake to install some simple recessed lights. With the new white paint, those small changes had a huge impact in making the room look much more modern.
The peninsula had originally been designed with an overhang for seating, but my stepmother had requested my dad add more cabinets in that space with doors that opened into what was the den. I tore those ought as well, restoring the peninsula to being a breakfast bar. After removing those, I was ready for the challenging part of the project: creating a concrete countertop. It was something I had never attempted, but I had always been interested in trying. Dad had every tool known to man in his large shop, and it didn't take me long to assemble the things I needed for the wooden form for the concrete. Before I started, I called the artisan in New Orleans who had made some for me on various projects; he gave me detailed instructions and tips, and then I read and watched every tutorial about it on the web.
It wasn't easy, and I especially struggled with getting the new stainless sink set right, but in the end, I was thrilled with how they turned out. They weren't perfect, but after being sealed and polished, the natural gray glowed softly against the white cabinets.
With the living room being opened into the former den and kitchen, an awkward situation had been created by now having redundant doorways from the hall into both the kitchen and the former living room. I removed the one from the kitchen, luckily finding some sheets of paneling that matched the existing well enough, especially after painting. Instead of having an eating area beside the kitchen, I had placed a large, rustic cabinet on that wall. It was covered in several layers of peeling paint that looked good next to the crisp white walls. Dad and Ruby had used it for storage on the covered patio outside the house, and it had taken a lot of effort to get it inside by myself, but I am very stubborn.
I removed the door to the hall, preferring just to having an opening. I also increased the size of the opening as much as I could to bring the light from the living area into the dark hall. Other changes including having the long table I purchased at the consignment store delivered, and I ordered some industrial style wood and metal bar stools from World Market. The long harvest table was placed in what had been the den. Even after the furniture was added, the great room was a bit empty, but looking very much better than it had just a few short weeks ago.
It had been about two weeks worth of absorbing work, and I had been so involved with the project that I had completely forgotten about Chance. So I was very surprised when I answered a knock on the door from the carport to find him standing there. I was in the middle of priming the hallway and hadn't been expecting anyone. In fact, since Blake's visit last week, I hadn't seen anyone expect the clerk at the library and the checkout girl at Piggly Wiggly.
It was good to see him, and if anything, he looked even better than I remembered. We were having a bit of a warm spell, so he was wearing a t-shirt instead of a flannel button down. And let me just say, he was doing that t-shirt a favor by wearing it. I had luckily taken a shower that morning and was wearing neither a poncho or a man bun, but that was about as far as I could compliment myself since I was wearing a dingy t-shirt, paint splattered overalls, and a bandanna as a headband.
"Hey," he said. "Sorry to stop by unannounced. I tried calling and texting, but didn't get an answer. I saw the truck was here, though, and figured you were around. Hope it isn't a bad time."
"Shit," I said. He gave me a strange look. "I just realized my phone is dead and I forgot to charge it. In fact I'm not sure the last time I used it."
