Chapter 5 (continued)

He splashed color on the fence, but it wasn't just painting a fence, like Tom Sawyer on a Saturday. Charles wanted a swatch of color, an interesting mix of swirling shades and hues, not a flat stretch of solitary color. Charles wanted a diversity of blues and greens even hints of purple and yellow. Sedgewick concentrated, chewing his bottom lip most of the afternoon, spreading paint across his canvas.

The knots in the wood were hard to paint, and at first Sedgewick tried to drown them with copious amounts of paint. But the end result was a gross looking blob that probably wouldn't dry and was likely to smear in the next rain. Instead, Sedgewick applied darker and darker blues up until the edge of the knot, making it appear like part of the fence slowly receded until suddenly it went dark. He highlighted others were bright bursts of color, darkened by a blot in the middle.

He had finished four or five feet of the fence, an hour's work when Charles walked up behind him.

"Nice work, my boy," he said. "You painted a masterpiece after all." Sedgewick finished his stroke and turned with a sheepish smile. He didn't know if masterpiece was the right word, but he'd had more fun than he expected. He could handle painting splotches of color.

"I hate to send you on your way, but I imagine your grandmother is going to be wondering where you're at."

"I should get home," Sedgewick said. His grandmother never worried about him if he didn't come home immediately after school, and Charles knew that. But it was time to go home.

"The kids will be here soon, too," Charles said, referring to one of the church's neighborhood programs. "I like to clean things up a little before chaos begins." Sedgewick smiled, imagining a playground full of kids and how long it would be before each one found their own brush. It'd be fun for a while, but then one masterpiece would run into another and there'd be more running with brushes than actual painting.

Sedgewick put away his paints and cleaned his brush in the little shed. He came back into the yard to see Charles examining his work, nodding his head and rubbing his chin.

"Thanks, Charles. I'll—I'll see you tomorrow."

"Like kids and snacks, you'll be back." Charles turned and smiled and Sedgewick waved goodbye.

The walk home was about the same distance as usual, just a different route with different sights. Different fences and different houses, their intriguing architecture from the early 1900s, different lawns and yards and different colored leaves falling to the earth.

It seemed like days, months since Sedgewick had been studying his notes that morning and Allison came bounding up, full of life and energy. It had been a long day, a momentous day, and it wasn't even over yet. Though Sedgewick liked the idea of climbing into bed and saving some momentum for another day.

He walked in the front door and could hear his grandmother in the kitchen.

"I'm home, Gram!" he called.

"And how's my boy?" she answered.

Sedgewick left his bag in the front hall and headed back to the kitchen. He pulled out his char and sat down across from her.

"I started eating without you," she said apologetically. "I hope you don't mind." She motioned to the pot on the stove, Sedgewick's dinner and leftovers for the next few days.

"No, Gram, that's fine." Sedgewick said. "You don't have to plan around me." He sighed, breathing in the smell of his grandmother's cooking, pesto pasta with chicken, and—Sedgewick glanced at the counter—fresh baked bread. And some people didn't understand why he lived at home.

"I'm—I'm good," Sedgewick said in response to her initial question. "Today's been…, well, I don't even know how to describe it."

"One of those days?" his grandmother asked, her eyebrows raised. Sedgewick seemed in too high of spirits for that.

"No. Sort of, but mostly no." He thought for a minute. "More like a one-of-a-kind."

His grandmother stopped mid chew and put her napkin to her mouth to hide her smile. Her eyes gleamed and she looked at Sedgewick with a renewed wonder, but also love and happiness and sadness all at once.

"And how is that?" she asked when she swallowed.

"I met a girl today," Sedgewick said, his eyes on the floor.

"Oh…" his grandmother nodded and beamed, putting her fork down to hear the whole story.

"Her name is Allison."

"Oh…" her beaming smile faded slightly. "Oh, honey."

"I saw her at Cub on Friday… just exchanged glances, nothing more. But this morning, she—she must have spotted me by chance. She came up and talked to me, out of the blue."

"Must have been out of the blue for her, too," his grandmother said warmly, beginning to beam again.

"But then, later, I saw her a-again." Sedgewick's voice wavered. He kept going, trying to get it out all at once before he couldn't speak at all. "Her mom, she—she died today. A car wreck, up-state… some business trip, and…" He couldn't finish.

His grandmother set her napkin down and stood up, she crossed the few feet between her and her grandson and awkwardly wrapped her arms around him, her standing and him still seated. Sedgewick buried his face in her stomach and let the tears come, again. His grandmother stood there, arms around her grandson, feeling the pain of years gone by that never seem to go away. She wondered if this would ever get easier, but knew in all her years it only got harder.

She just wished it wouldn't happen so often, at least not to Sedgewick, her poor grandson who had seen more pain and death in his short life than any of the woman at the bingo hall could ever expect to see, not that she would wish it on any of them. No one deserves to go through what Sedgewick had.

"Oh, Gram," Sedgewick said after several minutes of silence. Her comfort was so dear and, well, comfortable to Sedgewick. He didn't like turning to it, never liked needing it, but when the time came there was nothing better.

"When I found out we threw rocks, together."

"Oh, honey." Tears welled up in her eyes this time, and she pulled Sedgewick close.

Later that evening Sedgewick called the number written on the back of his hand again. He sat on the edge of his bed, just under the eave, with the phone cord stretched from his desk in front of the window. He had told his grandmother he didn't need a phone in his room, but when he graduated from high school and decided to stay at home and attend university his grandmother insisted. He insisted on paying rent, since he was no longer a minor under her care, but the idea brought tears to her eyes and Sedgewick quickly dropped it, a rare moment in his life that brought unnecessary pain to his grandmother.

He twirled the phone cord around his fingers, eyes nervously darting around the room, fingers smoothing his hair as if she could see him.

After the fifth ring the voice mail picked up, and Sedgewick could feel his stomach relax. A bright cheery message sounded in his ear, much more like the Allison he had met that morning.

After the beep, he left a short message: "H-hi, Allison. It's me—Sedgewick. Sometimes coffee helps, too. Well, not so much the coffee. But, anyway. Coffee. Or maybe breakfast. It's just something else, I know." He left his number and hung up the phone.