He
moved his hands across the surface feeling for bumps, dimples or
pits. It was smooth.
“Topping!”
yelled Uncle Cy.
Topping
looked up, nodded, put down the sander and walked to Uncle Cy’s
office.
“Sit
down, Topping,” said Uncle Cy, as he gestured toward a coffee pot.
Topping
shook his head at the offer of coffee and sat down on a duct
tape-patched naugahyde-covered kitchen chair. Uncle Cy sat on the
edge of an old wooden desk in his one-piece blue Carhartt, and he
shifted papers around. He sipped coffee from his mug—the one with
the words “World’s Greatest Dad” written on the side, except
the word “Dad” was written-over with the word “Asshole.”
“Topping,
you know business has been getting a little slow lately. With
Christmas coming, nobody is going to get their auto painted. They’re
going to spend their money on presents and decorations and shit. So,
after we finish Mr. Torvenstrum’s car, I’m gonna have to let you
go for a little while – just until the end of January when things
should pick up again.”
Topping
stared at him and nodded.
Uncle
Cy tilted his head to one side, raised one large white eyebrow and
looked at Topping’s face to make sure he was okay. Satisfied, he
continued, “Maybe you could get a job at a store where you can buy
that girl of yours a real nice Christmas present. They give out some
big discounts to employees sometimes.”
Uncle
Cy tilted his head the other way and lifted his other big white
eyebrow. Unsatisfied, he continued, “I promise, I’ll hire you
back in January.”
“Okay,”
replied Topping, relieved that he wasn’t being let go for good but
disappointed to not be making money just before the holidays.
Topping liked working with Uncle Cy. He was easy going, a little
salty and was patiently teaching his nephew everything he needed to
know to become “the best damn car painter in the Midwest” –
like his Uncle Cy. Topping also liked the work. He liked the detail
involved in car painting; sanding the surface until it was perfectly
smooth, applying the tape over the trim, spraying the paint with a
smooth mechanical motion of the arm and the repeated layering of
these activities when creating a custom paint job. Topping had
already helped paint flames on five cars. Uncle Cy did most of the
creative paint jobs and would touch-up work that Topping had started.
But Topping was already able to do a small flame job almost on his
own.
* *
*
Even
before he opened the apartment door, Topping could smell the pizza
that Charlotte was baking. He entered, took off his shoes and
brought his lunchbox into the kitchen and placed it on the counter.
“Hi
Honey,” Charlotte said while making salad.
Topping
walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and buried
his face into her long brown hair. He moved his hands feeling the
smoothness of her stomach and then placed them gently on her breasts.
He kissed Charlotte on the neck.
“Okay,
Tiger,” Charlotte said with a smile. “I’m saving that for
dessert.”
Topping
hugged Charlotte while she finished making the salad.
“Could
you check on the pizza?” Charlotte asked as the timer bell rang.
Topping
reluctantly pulled his arms from around her and turned to open the
oven door. The heat rolled out onto his face and his skin hurt for a
moment. The pizza was done. Topping grabbed an oven mitt that
resembled a chicken. He closed the beak around the pizza tray and
pulled it out of the heat. Charlotte buys frozen cheese pizzas and
then adds her own toppings. This makes
her feel like a chef. Tonight she decorated the large disk of cheese
with some pepperoni, black olives and green pepper slices.
Topping
and Charlotte’s apartment is always hot beyond their control.
Though it is only twenty degrees Fahrenheit outside, Charlotte is
wearing a simple summer print dress with spaghetti straps. She
places the salads on a small card table next to glasses of ice water.
Topping admires her bare legs and arms, her neck and clavicle bones.
He dishes out slices of pizza on a couple of chipped plates and
brings them over to Charlotte who is sitting on a folding chair.
Her
long brown hair hangs down over her plate as she bows for a silent
prayer that Topping never shares. After a whispered “amen,” she
lifts up her face to him. He sees eyes shining with happiness,
bright with satisfaction in sharing dinner with the man across the
table from her. Charlotte smiles at Topping as she chews on some
salad, her toes touching his under the table.
“How
was work today?” she asks.
Topping
doesn’t answer her. In thirty-seven seconds he will tell her that
he will be out of work for at least two months. In fifty-two seconds
he will tell her that there won’t be much money for Christmas. He
will tell her and he knows, to the deepest depths of his heart, that
even after telling her the bad news she will still look across the
table at him with deep contentment. In a minute and a half, he will
suggest that they cancel their plans to have a New Years Eve party
for all their friends. Despite all the disappointment, he knows she
will still share herself with him tonight with complete surety and
passion.
Charlotte
looks at him with slight concern on her face.
“Honey,
is everything okay?”
Topping
stares back at her, breathes heavily, relaxes his shoulders and says,
“Yes, everything is amazing.”
______________________________________________________
______________________________________________________
Written by Mark Granlund
Illustrations by Mark Granlund
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