Chapter two

“Hey Em, how’d the interview go?” I ask the next day as I head to Ms. Lamar’s house, a client who wants her bathroom redone.

“AWFUL!” she yells, causing me to hold the phone away from my face until I can hear out of my ear again. “I went home to change right? And when I get to the interview, I go to cross my legs and I realize I’m wearing two different shoes!” she wails. I repress a snigger so as not to upset her. “I needed that job Aves! You don’t even know! You have your fancy apartment in downtown and I’m still living with my parents! Right now I’m working at the Y, life guarding, making nine dollars an hour. I’m currently the creepy old lifeguard. I needed that job!” I let her go, ranting and ranting while I figure out what to do with this woman’s bathroom. She can never decide on anything I bring in. One minute she likes it and the next she hates it. I’m just going to have to do what I think looks best. “AVERY?! Are you still listening to me?” she suddenly yells.

“Yeah, yeah Em. You were saying how you wore two different shoes,” I say distractedly, going over the color palette I have picked out for the bathroom. It’ll match the white quartz counters really well and the multiple windows definitely help.

“No Aves! I was saying how when I left, they said nothing! The people interviewing me didn’t even say that it was ‘A pleasure’, or whatever it is that you’re supposed to say after an interview! They said, ‘That’s all.’ And I left. I left without a word. Stop me Aves, because I’ll keep going.”

“Stop Em. You probably did fine. You’re just overreacting. You always do this. Calm down. Take a few deep breaths and relax,” I say, pulling out the blue paint chips for Ms. Lamar.

“Whatever Aves. I’m going to go throw myself off the UPMC building now,” she says dramatically before hanging up abruptly. I know she won’t do it. She’s always been a spaz, since the first day I met her. Honestly, the first thing she ever said to me was, “I swear, I’m having an asthma attack! I don’t even have asthma!” At the time I was trained in First-Aid, so according to the Good Samaritan laws or something like that, I’m obligated to help. Surprisingly, she was fine. She just got overworked because she saw her ex-boyfriend with another girl. We were 16. Seven years later and she’s still freaking out about the same things.
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Ms. Lamar is definitely not the ideal client. “Well, I’m not sure. I really like that, but would it go with the color you have picked out?” she asks me for what seems like the forty-third time.

“Yes Ms. Lamar, that’s why I picked that color, so it would go with the cabinets in here,” I repeat.

“Oh, well, I don’t know…” she says, trailing off as my phone rings in my purse. I pull it out and glance down at the caller ID. It’s Emma, probably calling to tell me she didn’t have the nerve to jump off the building or something. I could strangle her sometimes. I answer it anyway, just to get away from Ms. Lamar and her indecisiveness.

“What is it Em?” I ask into the phone when it’s at my face.

“Did I tell you I had a zit on my cheek!? One I didn’t know about!?” she screams as if she’s about to be killed.

“No Em, you didn’t. But I’m sure you’re fine,” I say, trying to soothe her.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not!” she wails. I hear a thud in the background and I’m almost positive she’s thrown herself down on the couch dramatically, to provide emphasis to anyone who cares. “So what are you doing this fine Friday?” she suddenly asks. What’d I say? Spaz.

“I’m at Ms. Lamar’s house, helping her pick out colors and cabinets and all that jazz,” I say quietly.

“Hmm. Sounds like fun,” she says. “So what’d you do after I left Starbucks yesterday?”

“Well, I was going to call Mr. Henderson, but then I got a call from some other guy. Sidney Crosby? I don’t know,” I say nonchalantly as I draw little circles on the wall with my fingers. I hear an intake of breath on Emma’s end, and brace myself for the explosion I know is about to come.

“AVES! You do know who that is!? Don’t you!?” she shrieks into my ear. Even holding the phone a good two feet away from my face, I can still hear what she’s saying, and clearly. “Sidney Crosby!? The Captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins!? The same Sidney Crosby that had 110 points his rookie year!? The handsomely good-looking Sidney Crosby!? AVES ANSWER ME!”

“How can I answer you if all you’re doing is talking?” I ask with a laugh.

“Don’t play with my emotions Aves! Answer the questions!”

“I guess it is. I didn’t actually see the guy. He just called me,” I say with an edge of annoyance to my voice. I’m about to say more, but I can hear Ms. Lamar coming. “Yes Ms. Wilson, I’d love to answer your questions at a later time, but I’m with a client at the moment.” I look over my shoulder and smile at Ms. Lamar who has a fabric sample in one hand and a paint chip in the other. The two don’t remotely match.

“Aves! Don’t you hang up on me!” I can hear Emma yelling into the phone. “Aves!”

I snap my phone shut and turn around to face Ms. Lamar who has a slightly bewildered look on her face.

“Just another client,” I say quickly. “She has about a million questions!” I say with a laugh. Ms. Lamar nods at me before asking if I like the things she has in her hands. “Well,” I start gently, taking the color swatch and fabric out of her hands. “I have a few other ideas I’d like to run by you first. How about that?” I ask as we make our way back into her bathroom, where I’ve accomplished nothing.