Scratch Beginnings_ Me, $25, and the Search for the American Dream - Adam W. Shepard [84]
Derrick came over to deliver cookies from his wife and to pick up my slack, which helped to expedite the process. After one weekend of nonstop work, we had that place gleaming. It was great. Our own place. Even the things we couldn’t fix, like holes in the carpet, we strategically planned to cover with furniture. We had it all mapped out.
My bedroom (the master) was in the back of the duplex, and I paid proportionately more for it. Our rent was $600, so I told BG that I would pay $325 and he could pay $275, and he agreed enthusiastically. I could have gotten off with a much better deal than that, but it was fair for everybody. I wanted the bigger room, and he was saving for a car, so it would give him a chance to put a few extra dollars in the bank.
Moving in was an unexciting affair, though. We hardly had anything. He had a bed, and I had a bed that I had scored from a move, but other than that, we just put our clothes in the closet, and dreamed up the interior plan for our new place.
“We’ll put a sofa here and a sofa there and a TV there,” he told me.
“Yeah, yeah. And we can put a china cabinet here, maybe a bookshelf or something on that wall.”
“Or no, wait. China cabinet there and a wine rack over there.”
We weren’t being sarcastic. We were serious, and our plan was certainly plausible. BG was going to start working at Fast Company, too, so we would both have access to furniture. Before, Derrick and I had been turning down the used TVs and furniture that were being offered to us almost daily by our customers, or we had been taking them to the pawnshop. (“If it ain’t broke, sell it to somebody.”) Now that we had a place to put things, BG and I could start accepting the pieces for our own. Beautiful pieces. If you’re ever trying to furnish a house or apartment, go work as a mover. Derrick’s place and his sister’s place around the corner were both filled with hand-me-downs from customers, so BG and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before our place would be filled as well. And we were right. Within a month, 409B Pine Hollow was fully furnished with a beautiful cream-colored sectional sofa, a maroon sleeper sofa, a fifty-five-inch projection TV (which cost $300), a bookshelf, a dining room table (although we never got chairs), and a china hutch. In my bedroom, I had two nightstands, a dresser, a TV, a bookshelf, and a huge desk—all free and all in December. None of it matched, so our house looked thrown together, but individually each piece was beautiful.
Even my bedroom came together nicely. I had picked up a wide variety of interior decorating tips from the customers we had moved, so I was pretty much a pro. I hung pictures, and I put candles and a clock over my desk. I splurged for a $65 burgundy and white bedspread set, which was complemented by the matching burgundy lampshades and white candles that I put on top of my nightstands and a burgundy and white rug that I bought from Target. My bathroom—from the towels to the shower curtain to the candles—was a sea of Carolina blue and white. It was immaculate, pristine. The whole place. We should have called HGTV to come film the entire process of restoration. With BG’s expertise and my moral support, we were cruising. After the New Year, we would acquire rugs and side tables to finish off the living room. Later, even after our place was completely outfitted, BG continued accepting pieces, so our kitchen and back porch filled up with sofas and cabinets that we never used, but he didn’t feel right letting them go to waste.
BG’s street smarts—particularly in his own mind—far outweighed his lack of academic expertise. He hadn’t finished high school, but that didn’t matter much to him. He was still right. About everything. All the time. Even