ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: Searching

Book Two, Chapter 86: Bravissima, Bravissimo

Joshua and I have primed the walls of both the dining room and living room of the Charles Street house, and he’s given each ceiling two coats of white. Now, we gaze up at one of the ceilings.

“It still looks streaky, Josh. It needs a third coat, this time with a brush.”

“It’s the ceiling, not the paint. The ceiling has ripples in it. That’s just the way old houses are. It’s time for the yellow.”

I thank my lucky stars for Joshua. He keeps me from going overboard.

“Maybe, when the yellow goes on, the ceiling streaks won’t be so noticeable,” I say.

“I guarantee you no one’s going to walk into this house, crank his head to the ceiling, and immediately comment on its streakiness.”

He heads outside to continue his work on the garage door. Just now he’s filling in cracks with wood filler, then he’ll prime the doors and paint them a glossy Western Brown. Most people would install a new door, complete with remote-control opener, but not Joshua. He’d rather repair what’s there than put in something new.

I open the can of Full Moon, dip my brush into it, and dab it on a dining room wall. Its color makes the reddish wood of the door really pop. I start painting in earnest, the paint going on smoothly, with great coverage. The walls might not even need two coats.

A little later Joshua comes in the back door. “Where’s little mama?” he calls out. “Where’s Hoot Owl?”

“In the dining room. Come look at the Full Moon.”

From my ladder I look down at him, watching for his reaction.

“Wow! What a positive color.” He’s smiling. His blue eyes glitter. “Daddy would love this color. It’s bursting with flavor. Almost a light chartreuse. Citrusy. Lemony. With a little green in it. What a nice color.” He moves to the middle of the living room, looking into the dining room. “I liked it immediately. It’s the perfect choice.”

“It’s progress, not perfection,” I say, quoting my Twelve-Step friends.

“Okay, not perfect, but close enough. You like it too, right?”

“You’re going to think this is heresy, but how about painting the ceilings this color, too?”

“Oh, no,” Joshua says, stepping closer. “That would be too much. The white ceilings and trim give this place a beachy feel. It feels like California. It’s the perfect combination — white ceiling and trim, pale yellow walls against the natural wood doors.” He walks about the room. “Look how good the light fixture looks against the white ceiling. Everything is finally coming together. This is the way I visualized it from the very beginning.”

I get down from the ladder and wrap my arms about his shoulders. He’s taller than I am, but we hug easily.

We have two reasons to celebrate — the new look of the place, and our new inclination and ability to hug.

Bravissima.

Bravissimo.