Benjamin noticed the look on her face. “You picked this?”
She nodded. “I liked the name.” She sat at their kitchen table, took a sip of water, the first of her eight glasses she’d have that day.
He stared at the small container in his hand. “I don’t even see a name, Hadley. Except the company name, Benajamin Moore. Is this a joke?”
“No, silly. Look on the bottom.”
He turned it over, slowly. Saw the bar code, and other small numbers. Then he noticed it: Timber Wolf. “I don’t get it,” he said.
“You know I love wolves, Benji. It’s why I joined the Sierra Club. And you like them, too. Or at least you used to. I guess I just liked the sound of it.”
“But, the color? It’s silver. With metallic flakes. Do you think that’s gonna work on our kitchen walls?”
“We’ll see,” she said, walking toward him. “I only bought two ounces. We can paint it here,” she indicated the wall adjacent to the microwave. “I think it’ll be dazzling when the morning sun hits it.”
“Yeah, more like nauseating. I think it looks like a disco ball. Might be better as your eye makeup?”
“I don’t wear eye makeup, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Hadley flounced down in her seat again.
She scowled. Put her head on her elbow.
Benjamin looked at her, then back at the paint. “Alright, let’s try it. But if it doesn’t work, then you can pay for the painters to try something new.”
“What’s wrong with you today? Did the Cowboys lose their game? Why so cranky?
She ran her fingers through her curly auburn hair.
“I’m…” what was it? He searched for what to say. “I feel lost.”