Yellow Door Therapy

Artist: Victoria England

Chloe had lost her job. That was her defining moment of the day. The company she had been a part of since its beginnings had gone under due to the current pandemic. Her car now idled in her driveway behind her husband’s car separated by a large oil stain and several cracks populated by weeds. Two face masks gently swung from her rear view mirror in her lightly blowing A/C; the now car staple, Germ-X, claimed one of her coffee ringed cup holders; a box of useless desk knick-knacks and company papers sat as her front seat passenger. She sighed at the idea of having to walk the single stone path to their faded front door. Entering her house this time signaled the end of an entrepreneurial era in her life. She drummed her thumbs on the steering wheel as she gathered the strength to join the unknown with so many other members of her community.

The two story dark red brick house stared down at her; happily surprised to see her home so early in the day. She thought about how this house had become a sanctuary, as well as a home, over the last fifteen years as they raised their son, Logan. This place did not age well, she thought as she stared at the potholes that had weathered their way up and down the main road, vines had finally climbed their way up to the roofs despite the homeowners’ best efforts, and the pavements people walked to their personal mailbox had so many cracks everyone’s mother must be paralyzed by now. Their neighborhood had survived four tornados, their street had survived two cases of cancer, their neighbor a burglary that resulted in identity theft, and their house creaked with the haunting of a lost pregnancy. The neighborhood seeped further into despair with each passing moment, and as the pandemic stretched its claws further into the community it seemed like it was one more lost job away from unraveling.

Chloe opened her car door; as she held it open with her foot, she grabbed the box of useless office supplies and walked the dingy stone path covered in a layer of green fungus to the door. She thought about how Logan loved to jump back and forth across the stones when he was younger, while she and Kyle weeded and worked on the front lawn. Chloe thought about the last time he had jumped from stone to stone, unaware of his mother’s deep mourning of the recent miscarriage of his sister. Chloe and Logan jumped together across the stones that day; they pretended they were hopping islands while being chased by pirates in a vast sea. Both dove into imagination to escape reality for two very different reasons. Chloe plugged the code into the door lock. Kyle had replaced the old key lock a year ago after the neighbor’s burglary. Her phone chimed as the security app notified her that the house was being entered. Safety at the expense of privacy, she thought. Chloe waved to Kyle working in his front office. He was on the conference call he had apologetically told her he would be on during their phone call on her way home.

Chloe carried her box to the back door, half tossing her keys onto the kitchen counter, and opened the door to be greeted by their three massive dogs. They jumped in excitement. The golden lab bumped into the patio chair and knocked it to its side. Normally, Chloe would make an exasperated sigh and pick it up, but instead she slid her back down the door in a heavy sob. The three dogs smothered her in slobbery licks and thick tail whacks. The deep, thick bark of their Daniff, Pippin, echoed into her subconscious and shook the heavy tears loose from their ducts. She cried sitting on the floor for a while. She cried until she leaned her head back onto the door and only let out sniffs. The dogs made themselves comfortable under her half bent legs and limp arms while her sniffs slowly turned into soft breaths. The house continued to support her as she leaned further into it.

“We will be okay,” she said to the dogs. Their ears perked at her voice clouded in the throat mucus brought on by her long, heavy crying moment. “My job wasn’t that much of an income in the end.” Their tails wagged in agreement, thumping against her extremities. “I just really liked that job.” Chloe stood and picked up the box. She went out the back gate to their trash bins. After removing the two picture frames and necessary paperwork, she dumped the contents of the box into the trash.

As she walked back to the house, she pulled out her phone and swiped away the covid and election notifications. She opened her YouTube app and searched “How to paint a front door.” After watching a brief four minute video with an incredibly enthusiastic gentleman explaining the simplicity of painting a front door she made the decision to put in the effort for a small change. Chloe grabbed her car keys from off the counter. Kyle was still on his conference call. She could see his pant-less ankles crossed under his desk. Chloe waved at him and signaled she was heading out. He brought up his thumbs and pretended to text. As she hopped across the stones, she texted him “Home Depot.” His quick “???” response, initiated a simple “I’m painting the front door,” before she stuck her phone into her back pocket and drove to the closest Home Depot. She donned her black mask that had “Be kind” printed in block letters in the corner and marched herself into the store and up to the paint counter.

“Hello, I'd like some yellow paint and primer,” she stated matter of fact to the attendant.

“Great, what type of yellow paint?” The female attendant asked back.

Chloe was not expecting this question, “The type to paint your door.”

The woman picked up on Chloe’s lack of planning in her recent decision. “I see.”

Chloe chuckled, “The video said good quality paint, to specify.”

“Have you already sanded the door, or would you like me to ask someone to bring some sanding paper to the counter as well?” Chloe could not tell if the attendant was annoyed or genuinely trying to help.

“All the supplies necessary to paint a door would be extremely helpful, thank you.”

“Uh-huh.” The woman reached over and made an announcement for sandpaper to be brought to the paint counter. She explained the primers, paints, and brushes and took Chloe over to a thick book of color options to flip through.

“No need. I want sunshine yellow.”

“Let me show you our yellows. We have several that could classify as sunshine.” The attendant began thumbing through to the yellow section.

“That's okay. Whatever you think is a deep sunshine yellow that's closest to the yellow emoji heart, that's what I want. Also, two cans of turquoise paint.” Chloe pulled out her phone to Google how to paint the outside shutters of a house before deciding to wing it. Why not? She thought. I'm unemployed. She noticed the several missed calls and texts from Kyle and decided to ignore them.

“Let me at least show you our selection of turquoise blues,” the attendant interrupted Chloe’s phone concentration while she fumbled through the book.

Chloe scrunched her nose, “It's fine. Whatever the color, it will be fine.”

The paint attendant went back behind her counter and pulled out her personal book of colors to pick the yellow and blue. While she started plugging the necessary information into the computer a teenaged boy brought up a packet of long lasting, no-slip grip sandpaper. Chloe wandered down the aisle behind the counter and picked out a few brushes and paint rollers she thought would be best for painting the front door and shutters. She tested the brushes softness on the small exposed part of her cheek and realized how un-covid friendly her action was and decided to buy the brush despite its coarseness. Upon returning to the counter she saw a lone unattended cart in an empty aisle and snagged it for herself. She loaded the three cans of paint, primer, sand paper, masking tape, and paint brushes into her cart and wheeled her way to the checkout lanes where she tried to uphold the six feet apart rule. A man with his N-95 mask below his nose crept closer behind her and she inched closer to the woman in front. This is a disaster.

Once Chloe checked out and loaded her car she lathered her arms, hands, phone, and neck with Germ-X and drove home. Chloe ran upstairs to grab nail polish remover and a cotton ball; per the video's tip, checked whether the original door's paint was oil- or water-based. A small amount rubbed off to her relief. Not as much sanding. Kyle took off his headphones and walked over to Chloe who was sitting crossed legged and bent almost at a ninety degree angle to the side and aggressively sanding the bottom of the front door.

“That daily YouTube morning yoga is really paying off,” he joked.

“Babe, the door is wide open. Someone could see you,” she said without breaking her concentration from the door.

“Please, my ‘business on top and boxers on bottom’ look is way less scary than when Mr. Castillo began his Parkinson's medicine and started to sleep water his front lawn in the nude.” Both of them cracked smiles at the memory of Logan and them leaving the house for a little league game and Logan shouting, “Holy hell, dad, look at Mr. Castillo's butt.” Not only did he teach his little league team the word “hell” that game, he gave them a vivid description of the aging backside of their now passed neighbor. Kyle took on a more serious tone, “Sweetie, why are you painting our door?”

“I have the time to paint it now,” Chloe answered.

“I see,” Kyle crossed his arms. “Well would you like me to remove the door from the hinges to sand it better?”

“No this is fine. As you said, I'm making sure my yoga classes are paying off.”

“Okay. Well let me know if you need me. I don't have any more conference calls for the rest of the day,” and he walked cautiously back to his office, glancing occasionally at his wife in deep concentration.

Over the next couple hours, Chloe finished sanding the door, applied the masking tape, and painted the primer onto the door. While waiting for the primer to dry she made a late lunch for Kyle and her.

“What color did you choose for the door?”

Chloe smiled, “Sunshine yellow.”

Kyle looked down at his plate with a smirk and shook his head, “That's cheerful and totally against the HOA agreement. Jan's going to have a field day with you.”

“Jan can take her arbitrary rules and shove them up her sadistic, garden of the month winning corkscrew tight ass hole.” Chloe popped the last of her sandwich into her mouth.

“Still salty that she got onto Logan for leaving food out for that stray cat?”

“She threatened to call the cops, babe. Not animal control. The cops. He was ten.” Chloe grabbed the plates off the counter and put them in the dishwasher. She grabbed a Ranch Rider Spirits can from the fridge and smiled that she happened to grab her favorite the Chilton one. Kyle eyed her, “I lost my job today. I'm allowed to day drink.” She stuck out her tongue and cracked the can open.

Kyle put up his hands, “Hey, no judgment here. I'd be joining you, but I have to finish this project.” They exchanged a cheek kiss and Kyle pinched Chloe's butt. He spun out of her shoulder slap reaction and they snickered at each other's attempt to keep the oncoming anxiety at bay. Kyle could lose his job too, she thought, then quickly reassured herself that his software engineering job would not be at risk.

Chloe added more old towels and sheets to the floor before she opened the can of yellow paint. Looking at the bright yellow paint filled her insides with the warmth of sunshine on a spring day. She dipped her brush into the paint and began painting the nooks and crevasse of the door where the rolling brush would not fill. She took the small rolling brush and rolled it over the panels; then smoothed it out by using her thicker brush and swiping it over the panels as well. After the panels, Chloe proceeded to roll the sunshine from the top of the door down to the bottom. While the first coat dried she finished her second Chilton sitting outside with the dogs. She repeated this for coats two and three.

Logan came home while she was sitting waiting on the third coat. The dogs announced his arrival before he even reached the back patios fence.

“Hey mom, dad texted me to come through the back. Ms. Anthony says she likes the new color of the door.”

Chloe let a carbonated burp out from under her breath. ‘Well that was sweet of her,” she scooted over and patted the space next to her on the patio couch. “Come, sit with me.”

Logan smiled, “Okay. You feeling good?”

“Great,” Chloe exclaimed. “I'm feeling pretty great.”

“That's good,” he dropped his backpack next to his foot and plopped down beside his mom who immediately rested her head on his shoulder.

“You know,” she shouted unintentionally in his ear. “Despite everything, we've got a little sunshine in our lives now.” She took another sip of her Chilton. “How… how was school? Is Ms. Anthony still spraying you down with Lysol when she picks you and Ray up?”

“No, she lets us do that now. She makes us put our backpacks in plastic trash bags in the trunk now though. In case we go into lockdown again, we can buy Lysol spray and wipes from her, she's hoarding them in her trunk.”

“She knows those cans could possibly explode if the car gets too hot right?” Chloe slurred.

Logan laughed, “Hopefully.”

“Logan that's awful,” Chloe sat up straight. “I hope those cans don't explode.”

Logan shook his head, “Okay, mom.” He patted her knee and smiled at her, before going inside. He watched his mom contently lean back on the patio sofa and gaze at the dogs playing in the yard. He walked into his dad in the kitchen starting dinner. “Hey, Dad, is mom okay?”

“Oh, completely. She's just a lightweight.”

“I mean about the job,” Logan leaned on the island counter.

“We haven't talked about that in detail yet. She just came home, went outside to have a moment in the comfort of the dogs, and then left to get paint for the door. I haven't had the time to really get her to talk about the company shutting down.”

“She seems… okay?” Both Kyle and Logan looked at the back door and shrugged. “That yellow color choice though.”

“I know. I've seen Jan drive her car past the front of our house like four times now.”

Logan rolled his eyes and went upstairs. Chloe came in and hugged Kyle, “Thanks for making dinner, babe.” Then went to the front door. It was dry now. She removed the tape and kicked the now paint stained sheets and old towels out of the way. She closed the door with her on the outside and sat in front of it admiring her work.

Their next door neighbor walked over from getting the mail. “Hey, Chloe,” she shouted and stopped about ten feet away from her.

“Hey, Gina,” Chloe enthusiastically shouted back from the ground and waved.

“That's a nice, fresh door you got there,” and nodded to the bright yellow door that basically glowed from the dark red brick house.

“Thanks,” Chloe smiled. “I lost my job today. Covid strikes again, I guess.” Chloe watched Gina frown at the news.

“I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay, I brought a little constant sunshine into my life with the door. We'll be okay now that the sun is always shining on our house.”

Gina laughed, “You always have a way about bringing a bright side to things. I'm glad your door can now bring some sunshine to our street as well.”

“Egg-zactly,” Chloe beamed at Gina with a less than sober grin.

“Well if you need anything, just let us know.”

“Thanks, Gina.” She leaned back onto her palms and continued to gaze happily at her door.

About an hour passed before Kyle opened the door and said dinner was ready. Chloe swayed through the foyer and into Kyle's arms. She attempted to attentively listen to Logan talk about how school was going. He explained how the school was requiring all the kids who failed at least one class while doing online the first nine-weeks to return to in-class learning.

“They seem to care more about the scores and government money than our actual wellbeing," Logan stated.

“How are you just a sophomore,” Chloe gasped. The doorbell rang several times making the family jump and the dogs howl from their living room beds.

Kyle got up and went to the front door. He returned holding a piece of paper. “This was taped to the door.”

“Oh my god,” Chloe shouted a little too loud again. “It didn't ruin the paint did it?”

“No, it didn't ruin the paint, but it may ruin your mood.” He handed her the paper.

Chloe read the notice from Jan, stating their door's new paint color broke the HOA contract and they must paint it either the color of brown or gray in order to avoid a weekly fine.        

“That bitch, Jan,” Chloe slammed her hands on the table. “She's like a thunder cloud covering my sunshine.”

“Sweetie, let's address this tomorrow.”

“You bet I'm going to address this.” She picked up the paper again and then slammed it back on the table.

“Yes, but tomorrow. With a clearer head.”

“Fine,” Chloe huffed.

For the rest of the night Chloe muttered under her breath about Jan and how she needed her yellow door. How the neighborhood needed the yellow door. She took an hour long shower planning exactly what she would say to Jan to convince her that the door was a necessity. Listen here you thunder cloud of despair and pompous waste… No, reign it in. Start with one insult per sentence, then build. Don’t waste your good ones all at once, Chloe.

As Chloe and Kyle climbed into bed she continued to rehearse her now seven minute long speech to him.

“Babe, I think you'll convince her. Let's wind it down now.”

“Fine.”

When Chloe woke up the next morning she immediately got ready and marched herself out the door to Jan's house. She stopped and looked at the gray brick house, with the bright yellow and pink flowers, and perfectly cut and sufficiently watered green grass. The dark gray shutters that framed the front windows were fading from the years of sunlight hitting them. Chloe sighed and turned on her heels and came home.

“That was quick,” Kyle yelled from the office. “You didn't hit her, did you?”

“No, I'm just getting something.” Chloe grabbed the two full cans of turquoise paint from the front foyer and wandered into the office.

“What are you doing?” Kyle asked hesitantly.

“Just returning the favor for all the wonderful home advice Jan has given us over the years.”

“What, what exactly does that mean?”

Chloe smiled as she left the office. She loaded the paint cans and office supplies into her car and drove to Jan's house. She briefly sat in her car and wrote a note for Jan and the paint cans. Chloe carried the cans to the front door. She dropped them off right on the welcome rug and stuck a sticky note right on top of the one closest to the door; she folded her letter written on printer paper and stuck it between the door and the frame. She rang the doorbell a few times before returning to her car and driving home.

Jan opened her front door and caught the letter as it slid down the frame, it read “Dear Jan, Thank you for noticing my door's new color. I redid it myself. I will not be repainting anytime soon, as my yellow door's fines will be cheaper than therapy and antidepressants. Warmest regards, Chloe.” Jan glared down at the two paint cans sitting on her custom welcome mat and slammed the door on the note stating: Turquoise, for your shutters.