Explain It Like I'm Tree

Chat Log 2

Lewis' skull bobbed in time with the musical trills the Deadbeats gave off as he carefully aligned another strip of blue painter's tape with the wall and lowered it onto the baseboard. He slid two fingers along the length of it to stick it in place, then grabbed the roll and tore off another strip. There was something soothing about the rhythm, even more so if he kept time with the Deadbeat choir.

He had gotten them to pull all the furniture back from the walls to the center of the room or, in some cases, move it out to the hall. But after that, he only asked them to sing for him. A task like this required extra hands only if you were trying to save time and energy. He had more time than he wanted and nowhere to go spend it, so it was better to use it up slowly.

The office walls had degraded. The nightmares that appeared when he spoke always faded after a few hours, but after a few weeks more permanent effects were showing up. A large patch of mold spread along one corner of the ceiling and there were several reddish-brown dripstains on the walls. At every corner paint was cracked, blistered, or coming off in large strips.

He'd taken it upon himself to watch several hours of DIY videos during the previous night and, once he was certain what supplies were needed, he wrote up a shopping list. He included it with a written report on the new effects of his spoken words, added a large paint chip from the wall, and left it all in an envelope outside of Vivi's door. This afternoon, she'd unloaded the requested supplies into the kitchen without a word, then left the house again.

He really, really wished Vivi and Arthur were back on speaking terms. It seemed more plausible than wishing Vivi would talk to Lewis, at this point.

With the baseboard protected, Lewis floated up toward the ceiling to lay out the next round of protective tape.

For a moment, he pictured himself continuing his task, but with Arthur already rolling paint onto the wall and Vivi sneaking up behind him with a well-dipped paintbrush. Maybe she'd turn to Lewis, raising a finger to her lips for effect, then pounce. Maybe Arthur would turn and run the roller over her head in mock outrage. Maybe they would all laugh, and Lewis would take a picture for the blog, and...

Shaking his head free of the image, he finished taping the edges of the ceiling and drifted back down. Mechanically, he picked up the paint roller and loaded a fresh, fluffy cover onto it. One Deadbeat scooted a pan of newly poured paint over to him, chirping. He paused, then patted its head. They had a knack for picking up on his moods and gave him little gestures of solidarity and support when it went south. Still, he gently wagged a finger at the Deadbeat. He really wanted to take his time with this room. There was an excess of leftovers in the fridge so there was no need to cook today, but he still had to fill the hours.

The front door opened and shut. Lewis stilled, listening. Heavier tread on the floorboards. Some grunting. Arthur? Back with something heavy, maybe. He might need help. Lewis set the roller down and left the office, rounding the corner just in time to see Arthur haul Mystery into the bathroom and shut the door. Puddles marked their trail from the front door. A few seconds later, the pipes in the walls rattled up to a roar as the tub started to fill.

Shrugging, Lewis snagged a few dirty towels from Arthur's room and returned to mop up the spills. He wiped the water from the floor and gathered a clean set of towels and clothes. Approaching the bathroom door, he waited until the water stopped running before he knocked.

Arthur cracked the door, peeking around the corner. "Oh!" He glanced down at the stack Lewis held out. "Oh. Thanks. Sorry about the mess. Tried to get to the bathroom fast but we probably dripped everywhere. Somebody decided I needed a soaking." He took the stack and Lewis waved off the apology. "We'll be out later. Any cases come in?"