600 Hours of Edward

of this.
    “There’s an eight- or nine-year-old boy painting the garage.”
    “Holy shit!”
    “He’s eight or nine, and he is painting the garage.”
    “Holy shit!”
    “The garage is being painted by an eight- or nine-year-old boy.”
    “Holy shit!”
    I am pretty funny sometimes.
    – • –
    The boy does not paint the garage exactly as I would prefer, and I would say something to him if not for the fact that he never stops talking as he paints.
    “What’s your name?” he asks me.
    “Edward. What’s yours?”
    “Kyle. Did you know that your house will be brown, but your garage will be green?”
    “Yes. I will paint the house next year.”
    “Why next year?”
    “That’s the way I do things.”
    “Are you married?”
    “No.”
    “Have you ever been married?”
    “No.”
    “How old are you?”
    “I’m thirty-nine. How old are you?”
    “I’m nine. I was born in 1999.”
    “That’s the year Kevin Spacey won the best actor Oscar for
American Beauty
.”
    “What’s that?”
    “A movie.”
    “I like movies.”
    “So do I.”
    “Are you going to pay me for painting your garage?”
    I am taken aback. It’s not quite the same thing as being agog.
    “Did we have a deal?”
    “No.”
    “Then I’m not going to pay you.”
    “I am saving up my money for a bicycle. That’s why I was wondering. I have fifty-three dollars, but that’s not enough for the bike I want. My mom said that I might get one for my birthday, but she’s not sure.”
    “If you expected money, you should have negotiated a deal with me before you started painting. That’s the fair thing to do.”
    “It’s OK. I like painting.”
    “When is your birthday?” I ask him.
    “February ninth.”
    “That’s when you’ll be ten?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re nine years and two hundred and forty-nine days old.”
    “Cool! How did you do that?”
    “I’m good with data.”
    His painting is haphazard. Sometimes his strokes are up and down, and sometimes they are side to side. Little dots of paint are missing the garage and landing in the driveway. And I am surprised that I don’t seem to care.
    I will have to talk to Dr. Buckley about this.
    – • –
    The garage painting is finished by 4:30 p.m. It looks pretty good, especially considering that a nine-year-old boy did some of it. I offer to shake hands with Kyle, but he insists on a high five, something I’ve never done. I’ve seen the Dallas Cowboys do it, and itlooks like great fun. I hold up my right hand, and Kyle slaps it hard. It sort of hurts. It’s not that much fun.
    “See ya, Edward,” Kyle says, and he’s dashing across the street to his house, his blond hair flying behind him, his arms flailing.
    – • –
    At 8:07 p.m., after I’ve had my spaghetti, I hear a knock on the door. I am flummoxed. Visitors are rare at this house. I have not had a visitor since July 21.
    I open the door, and standing on the stoop is the woman I saw mowing her yard yesterday morning, the woman I presume to be Kyle’s mother.
    “Hello? Mister…I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name. You’re Edward, right?”
    “Edward Stanton. Yes.”
    “I’m Donna, Kyle’s mom. I don’t think we’ve met.”
    “Not until now, no.”
    “Kyle told me he helped you paint your garage. I hope he wasn’t any trouble.”
    “No.”
    “I just thought, if he’s going to be hanging around over here, I should know who you are. I hope you’re not offended.”
    “No. But he just helped paint the garage.”
    “Of course. I don’t want to be rude. You just can’t be too careful, you know? I’m sure you understand.”
    “I didn’t let him go up on the ladder.”
    “OK.”
    She’s now just looking at me. I stare back at her.
    “Is there anything else?” I ask her.
    “No, I guess not. Thanks for letting Kyle help you out, Edward.”
    “All right, then.”
    I close the door. I can tell from the sound outside that Donna stands there for a few seconds before walking across the street to her house.
    I’m as flummoxed as I’ve ever been, I think, although I don’t keep data on that. I may need a new word.
    – • –
    Tonight’s
Dragnet
is the twenty-first episode of the fourth and final season, “Forgery: The Ranger,” and it is one of my favorites. It originally aired on March 12, 1970.
    A character named Barney Regal, played by Stacy Harris, who died many years before I started writing to
Dragnet
actors, tries to pass himself off as a forest ranger. In talking to