The walls were covered in canvas paintings, each with an LI inscribed on the bottom. Lindsey was quite the artist. There were pictures of various insects, animals, trees, flowers and even a couple of portraits of some woman. The old hardwood floors were covered in worn rugs and all the furniture looked distressed, but made the room look airy and bright. There was no T.V. in the room, but an easel with a half- finished canvas painting stood in the corner next to a shelf full of paints and brushes. I looked through the door that Lindsey went through and could see all the way to the kitchen.
With my curiosity getting the best of me, I walked through the door that led to a bedroom that stretched the width of the house. The large four post bed was white and looked like it had once been a canopy bed, but was now draped in a mossy green net that was blowing in the breeze coming from the open windows in the room. It looked like something out of a dream. Large, white, overstuffed pillows were piled high on the matching white down comforter and I could see a slight dip in the middle of the bed letting me know that the mattresses were old and worn. Just like the living room, the walls here were also covered in paintings, but all of streams, rivers, woods and cottages similar to the one she lived in. An old dresser covered in perfumes and framed pictures sat across from the bed.
“I’m kind of a do-it-yourselfer,” Lindsey announced from the doorway.
“I think it’s amazing,” I said truthfully.
“When I started working for you, I lucked up and found this place for rent really cheap. The outside was overgrown and the inside was covered in dust, but the structure was good, and the owner told me I could paint the furniture if I wanted. I have been here over two years and I have never paid full price for my rent. He always finds a way to knock something off, because I have fixed or updated something,” she said smiling.
“Have you thought about buying it?” I asked.
“Maybe. Wanna see the rest?” she asked turning and leading me out of the room and into another. I knew she was avoiding the topic, but I didn’t mind. I was pretty discreet myself. Something else we had in common. “This is my guest bedroom, but I use it as an office. Whoever lived here before must have too because I didn’t have to buy anything but a new desk chair,” she said, spinning the chair around and taking a seat. The desk was painted a bright yellow, but didn’t look gaudy or tacky in the least. It went well with the room that was painted an off white color with only a few large paintings of flowers on the walls. A small sofa sat in front of a large stone fireplace and the walls around it were lined with books.
“I love to read. During the winter I spend almost all of my time in here reading,” Lindsey said, abandoning her seat to run her fingers along the books on the shelf, just as I had done many of times.
“I do too,” I said, liking the fact that my employee and potential friend loved reading as much as I did. We walked into the kitchen, which just like the desk, was painted a bright yellow. The cabinets were white as were the appliances and the small breakfast area had a white wooden table for two. There were so many windows that there was not very much room for paintings, but Lindsey had still managed to squeeze in a few here and there.
“Would you like something to drink?” Lindsey asked. “I have water and milk.”
“Water would be great. Thank you,” I said, taking a seat at the breakfast table. Lindsey handed me a bottle of water and sat across from me.
“So, you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Lindsey asked. I had never seen her relaxed. Nor, had I ever heard her speak so bluntly. I liked it. I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to tell her everything. So, I did. From the first moment I saw Luke, to the moment I walked from the bar. I lay the last twenty-four hours of my life out on the table like an open book. Lindsey sat quietly, listening intently to everything I had to say. When I was finished, I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I sat there a minute, delighting in the fact that I had just opened up to someone, even though the last one I had trusted, only hours ago, had already betrayed me. I was ready to hear Lindsey’s feedback, her advice. I wanted her to get mad and volunteer to drive me back to the bar so that we could team up and beat the shit out of Luke. Maybe even vandalize his motorcycle. I looked at her expectantly, ready for the wrath.