Chapter 7: Beautiful

Charlie passed by a out-of-place ice cream truck just as he reached the edge of Washington Heights where the hardware store was. He would have been more alarmed by the truck, but back in Brooklyn, you could buy crack or Fudge Sickles out of every ice cream truck.

He reached the front door of the store and pushed it open. Immediately, his nostrils filled with the scent of paint, fresh wood, and metal tools. Charlie looked at the sleazy cashier with a bad perm and asked her where the spray paint was.

"Over there on the back wall." She answered in with a twang of bossiness.

Charlie choose to not thank the rude girl and walked straight to where the spray paint was. He quickly picked out the 15 cans he would need for his masterpiece. He knew the job would only take 13 or 14, but he always liked to have a little extra paint, just in case. Struggling to clutch every can, Charlie walked up to the register and set everything down in front of the cashier.

"Got everything you need sir?" She was even more sassy this time.

"Yes." Charlie muttered.

"Well. You better paint a pretty picture for your mother, she loved you, you know?" she said.

"Excuse me?" Charlie asked.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything mister." she replied.

Charlie started to feel reality slipping away. His mission for his mother consumed his world, and he couldn't take much more of it. He was hearing things, seeing things, and all around going crazy.

He quickly collected his things, threw a hundred in the slut's face, and ran out the store.

Running out, he happened to bump into none other than George Jefferson. Jefferson was looking shifty, and a little on edge.

"Yo Jefferson, my man," Charlie said. "I heard a car crash last night, then saw you come running. Whats up?"

"Oh boy. I'll tell ya. I got fucked up man. I stole this dealer's car, and shit man, it was too fast. Now I gotta buy supplies here to fix my wounds, they ask to many questions at the hospital." Jefferson said.

"Well. Good luck with that man." Charlie said.

"Thanks, say what you need all the paint for kid?" he asked.

"It's for my masterpiece. Devoted to my deceased mother."

"Cool man. Way to go." Jefferson said, he appeared to still be a little out of it.

Jefferson waved goodbye and walked inside. Charlie started on the trek back to town. He listened to the rain start to fall onto his head. The rain tasted especially salty, like tears. Then Charlie realized it was he that was crying. He brushed at his face and kept walking, eyes on the masterpiece he would create.