SPHINX... and other stories

Full Many A Flower

Full Many a Flower 

by  

Dan Ahearn 

 "I can't live with the wall paper." 

"It's brand new, you know. The last tenant put it on before she disappeared. She did a good job. She was an artist you know." 

The paper was striped. It was even tasteful, Jeff supposed. But he didn't care if the previous inmate of the tiny room was the First Paper Hanger in all of sunny Manhattan. It was too much. 

"I hate wall paper. Designs are distracting." 

"No problem. Coat of paint you'll never know it was there." 

The studio wasn't perfect but it was the best Jeff had seen. And he had to have a place in a hurry. 

"Paint right over the wall paper?"

"Why not? It'll be fine."

"A coat of paint will do it? I'm not going to have to look at ghosts of stripes coming out at me in a couple of months?" 

"No problem." 

Jeff could see that the super didn't care one way or another. As far as he was concerned Jeff was Yuppie Scum and if he wanted luxury go the hell to the Upper East Side. 

"You can't remove it?" 

The super shook his head, smiled from on high. "Mr. Golding's a stickler. The law says you get a fresh coat of paint. That's what you get. Anything else you have to pay for." 

"How much?" 

"It's a time consuming thing taking off the paper. It costs." 

Jeff didn't want to spend anything on this place. His divorce was costing enough. This apartment was really only going to be used, say, two weeks a month. The rest of the time Jeff would be traveling back and forth to Europe. 

The super grunted and laughed. "Don't worry. I'll cover it for Christ sake. You'll be happy." 

Jeff frowned. "Off White, right?" The color of the paint. 

"Bone. Absolutely." 

Jeff looked at the studio. One room, a small bathroom. There was a cooking setup in what Jeff supposed had once been a closet. That hardly mattered because he certainly never intended to cook. He would probably close the folding door on the stove and refrigerator and never open it again. He had wanted to minimize. This was minimal. Still he began to dither. Yes-no. Yes- no. 

Jeff made up his mind then the way he forced himself to do sometimes. He couldn't abide uncertainty. 

"Okay. I'll take it. If you paint the walls and clean up." He opened his Alfred Dunhill organizer and started to make out a check. 

"Two month's rent, right?" 

"Cash." 

"This check's golden. I work for Chase Manhattan for godssake. You know what would happen to my career, I bounce a check?" He doubted anything would happen but it sounded good and he almost believed it. Jeff was used to saying things, whatever, to get his way. 

"Mr. Golding's a stickler. Cash." 

Big sigh from Jeff. "All right I'll go to an ATM. You're not going to give it to somebody else while I'm gone?" 

The super weighed the matter for a long moment. Then he shrugged. "What the hell, I'll trust you. For an hour." 

They were filling the machine at the closest branch of Jeff's bank. By the time he got back to the building he was puffing. Everything was a hassle.