Circus of the Grand Design
Looking out the window beside his cheek, he saw that the street ended in the sea. Droplets of mist floating above the water glowed in the beam of the taxi’s headlights. Across the inlet a red light blinked star-like on the end of a dock.
The driver backed the car away from the water. “Never taken this road to the end before,” the driver said. “They oughtta have a barrier here.” He pulled into the driveway of a white stucco house with the number 23, which he had somehow failed to see as he sped past. Lewis paid and got out.
Are No’s house appeared to have no front door. Lewis walked up the driveway, passing a two-seater sports car, to a back porch overlooking a wild yard of high grass and twisted trees. He knocked on the glass door and Are No opened it. He stared at Lewis, blinking, as though he had been sleeping. “Yes?”
“I’m here to rent the house?” Two weeks ago he had met Are No at a bar in the East Village, giving him a deposit to reserve the place. Are No should have been expecting him. And after nearly getting dumped in the ocean he wasn’t in the mood to get screwed around by some fake-named artist.
“Oh. Come in then.” Are No continued his blinking stare, but backed up to give Lewis enough space to enter.
The interior of the house felt colder than the damp night outside. Lewis asked about the heat.
Are No looked offended. “Didn’t I tell you? Heater’s broken. Plenty of firewood though.” He pointed across the one-room first floor to the fireplace, where a charred log sat on a grate over a pile of ash. A moose head with purple antlers hung over the mantle.
“I’ll take you to your room then.” Are No led him around a floor-mounted photo collage, larger than a king sized bed and covered by a sheet of Plexiglas. The photos showed alternating views of sky and the surface of the water. A green armchair had been placed beside the collage, and past the chair a narrow staircase led upstairs.
“That’s the bedroom,” Are No said, pointing to the right. “The other is my studio. It gets the best light, but I don’t want you in there.”
The studio smelled of oil paint and turpentine. Untouched by the fireplace’s inefficient heat, the upstairs rooms were colder than below. Are No picked up a suitcase from inside the studio, and they descended the stairs.
“Now, do you know how to start a fire?” he asked.
Lewis answered yes of course, but Are No kept talking.
“There are certain tricks learned through years of experience.” Are No removed the screen and squatted in front of the fireplace. “You’ve got to punch up through a shaft of cold air. The heat on the bottom has a lot of wood to go through, so you put paper on the bottom and more paper on top to raise the heat.”
Enough already, Lewis thought. Leave… he would handle things. He knew how to make a fucking fire. No way he would sleep upstairs though, way too cold. He looked around the room at the paintings crowding the walls. Are No probably wouldn’t approve of him sleeping in front of the fire, but he would be gone soon.
“Are you watching?” Are No said. “I think its ready.” He struck a match on the fireplace bricks and lit the newspaper. When he stood up, he looked around the room, nodding, as though inspecting each piece of art, then turned to Lewis. “One of the burners on the stove works. You can use the table, but I’d appreciate it if you sit on the near end, where I’ve put the place mat. I told you no meat in the house, right? I don’t have an answering machine, so if anyone calls, take a detailed message. There’s a guidebook on the desk you can look at, but don’t remove it from the house.”
This must be the closing speech about leaving everything in the condition he found it. Fine, he wasn’t destructive. He handed Are No several twenty dollar bills.
Are No laid them on the desk and stared at them, then looked at Lewis. “This isn’t enough.”
“We met… I paid half in advance—”
“No-no-no. You paid the deposit. You still owe for the rental.”
Are No gathered the bills into a neat stack and stared at them, as though he could make the money increase. “I don’t like this. I can’t have you staying here unsecured. You’re going to have to give me the full amount, or leave.”
Unsecured? Ridiculous—the guy never said anything about a deposit. “Look, you checked my references, you know where I work. I’m paying you plenty for a place with no heat.”
“I have valuable art work here.”
Lewis looked around, avoiding Are No’s eyes. The house was too dark. He would turn on all the lights as soon as Are No left.
“Do you have your checkbook?”
He would have to pay—only way to get rid of this fucker. Lewis reached into his backpack for his checkbook, filled one out, and handed it to Are No.
