Indigo by Max Ellendale

Indigo by Max Ellendale

Author:Max Ellendale [Ellendale, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-09-12T23:00:00+00:00


Embers

It took us longer to finish the white borders than it did to paint the entire room. Jilly frustrated herself over her shaky hands and forced me to do most of the trim work while she scoured the kitchen. By mid-day, we'd had a clean kitchen and lunch delivered by the local deli. We sat on the floor in the living room and shared a tuna wrap.

"I don't want to buy groceries," she said.

"Me either."

"Ever again."

"We'll go together next time." I laughed a little bit and she grinned.

"Are you sure you don't want to sublet this place?" she asked, crumpling up a wrapper.

"It'll be fine just left as it is. Maybe when we come for visits or something," I said.

"Yeah. And so we don't have to move shit out."

"I don't really want to take anything anyway. Other than our time together, this place has been a source of emptiness and pain."

"Except for the studio."

"Yeah…"

"You'll have a better studio in the loft space in the new place."

"I didn't really think about it."

"I did."

Buying an unoccupied, newly built home in the middle of the woods when you have the full payment upfront is a lot easier than it appears. There wasn't the long wait for the other owners to leave or bank contracts for a mortgage. The sale didn't deplete our accounts by any means, which is what happens to people who hoard money because they can't find a better use for it.

Jilly and I packed some clothes in the car, my guns, the laptop, toiletries, and she insisted on some of my paintings. I let her and off we went to a house we only saw via virtual tour in an SUV that had barely five thousand miles on it. We picked a good time to drive halfway across the country, in the early blooming period of spring. Minty greens coated the tree tops, making them look like puffy vibrations from a distance. Occasionally we'd come across a cherry blossom or patch of wildflowers along the roadside. We didn't say much for the first few hours of the drive. Jilly slept most of the time and occasionally she'd jump, waking herself on and off.

We stopped for gas and food, and took turns driving. By the time we hit Ohio, my thoughts slowed enough to make better sense.

"When I went to this club down in Portland, there was a dancer there called The Ginger Man. This redhead dressed as a guy, but dapper like from the 1920s," I said seemingly at random.

"Oh yeah. I saw a poster for that. It was at the burlesque place." She perked up, turning in her seat to face me.

"I thought she was you and rushed the stage when she was leaving. But it turned out she was wearing a wig and the bouncers threw me out." I laughed a little bit as I thought about it.

"You did what?" Her eyes bugged out and she laughed, too. "Jess, that's hysterical. I can just envision it."

"It definitely wasn't funny at the time but it kind of is now.



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