Holden

Honey tries to jump out of the truck when I open the door, so I push her back. It's Monday night and my day is all messed up after that phone call from the ladies from the gallery this morning, so I'm sure Honey is confused, too.

   "I'm just running in for a few things. Sit. Good girl," I say to her, then pet her head before slamming the door closed.

   Pushing open the door to the Art Hub, I check the counter to see who's working, first. A petite blonde girl with glasses smiles at me and welcomes me to the store. I've seen her before. A part of me was wishing it would be Maya, but that's not why I'm here. I have a lot to do this week and it requires a bunch of new supplies.

   I don't want to take too long because Honey is waiting, so I zip into the isle with the canvases and grab four right away, in the same size. The next isle over is brushes and paint, and that's easy because I always use the same ones. I'm tempted to try some new mixes, but I hold off for next time. Lastly, I grab some tape on the end cap and then make my way to the front.

   I stop dead in my tracks before I make it to the counter, and end up dropping a few things. "Shit."

   "Oh, hi," Maya says, from behind the counter, ten feet away.

   The store's not very busy but I was sure I saw that other girl - she's in high school for god's sake - at the counter when I came in. It wasn't Maya at the counter when I walked in, but there she is.

   I bend to pick up the brushes and tape and then finish walking towards her. Laying out everything to pay, I reach for my wallet in my back pocket. "Hi."

   Maya starts scanning things, not looking at me. A minute later, the girl that I knew I saw is walking back towards us.

   "Maya, um, one of the boxes is labeled wrong. Does that matter?" she asks her, her hands on her hips.

   Maya glances over and I can tell she's thinking. "No. Just peel off the sticker on the box and keep it so I can take a look later?"

   "Okay." The girl smiles at me before turning back around and going back to the back room.

   "You come in here a lot?" Maya asks me as she continues to scan my items.

   "Um, I guess. Usually only once a month or so, depending on my orders... but..." I stop myself from telling her about my gallery exhibit. Maya and I aren't friends, and she likely wouldn't even care.

   "But what?" she asks, giving me a friendly smile. "That's $315.67."

   I pull out my credit card and hand it over. "Uh, I actually just closed a gallery exhibit deal. So I need to do a bunch of new pieces in the next couple weeks, so I figured I'd stock up-"

   "Exhibit? Of your paintings?" she interrupts, and she looks shocked. Her eyes are wide open and her mouth is making an O.

   I nod, because I'm a bit embarrassed. "Yeah."

   "Here? In Boothbay? I thought that gallery was pretty particular-" This time she stops herself. Then she starts bagging up my items.

   "No, it's actually a small gallery in New York City," I tell her.

   "Oh. Wow." She adjusts how she's standing and then leans onto the counter a bit. "Here." She's holding out my credit card.

   "Thanks." I put it back into my wallet and put my wallet away. Then I reach over and grab the bags.

   "Sorry, I'm truly amazed right now, I don't know what to say. That's so cool, Holden. You always wanted this, and now..."

   My heart squeezes and doesn't release. The way she says my name. How she remembers that I always talked about getting my own exhibit and having everyone there just to see my work. Of course she remembers. 

   "Yeah, I'm still in shock, I think," I tell her, then run a hand through my hair. "In L.A., it was different. It was a big museum and they just bought my paintings from me, individually as they saw fit. And they just stay here, in the contemporary art section. Some have sold, so I get a profit from that. But..."

   She's really listening to me. I didn't expect this at all, to be there telling Maya about my experience in L.A. I imagined it a million times, getting to talk to her about this. But I never thought it would happen. 

   "Okay, so you're a real artist. Like, that's what your only income in?" she asks. It still seems like she doesn't believe it.

   I can't believe it either, some days. "That's true."

   "That's a big deal," she tells me. "So why'd you come back here, if you were doing well in L.A.?"

   That's what everyone wanted to know, when I first came back.

   "My mom called and told me she got engaged. I'd been living sort of... I don't know, carefree? For two years. I hadn't considered what I'd been missing out on here," I say, and it's more than I usually give people when I try to explain.

   She smiles and nods, as if she understands. "I came back for Nella and her daughter. So I get it."

   This is only my fourth time seeing Maya, after four years apart. But our conversation is so different now. Two days ago, at my mom's house, we were afraid to look at each other. Now? I don't know what I'm feeling. I was never told where Maya went, when she ran away four years ago. I didn't bother asking Nella, who was already dealing with a lot. I didn't even know if she knew.

   "Where were you?" I ask now, but then go on, "All this time?"

   I can tell she doesn't want to answer this.  Maybe I shouldn't have asked. "Albany, actually."

   "Albany, New York?" I repeat, but it surprises me for some reason. "You have friends there?"

   "Not really." She shrugs.

   She won't elaborate and I don't want to push her. I don't have the right to. I switch the bag to my other hand and look out at the parking lot. I can just barely see Honey, sitting in my seat in the truck.

   "My dog's in my truck," I spit out, but then swallow hard. "I guess I should go... it was... nice to..."

   Maya smiles, finally. "Oh, yeah, okay. It was nice seeing you, Holden."

   Holden. God, I love how she says my name. She used to whisper it and tell me how much she loved me. She used to yell it when she was mad at me for forgetting to pick her up something. I miss that. I miss it so much it hurts.

   "Yeah, it was," I finally say. "I was hoping you'd be here, actually."

   "Really?" She doesn't look freaked out, at least, but my admission.

   "Yeah. This is casual, you're working, I needed to get some stuff. But it worked out. That we got to talk."

   "Yes, it did," she agrees.

   "Well, I should go get to work." I raise the bag full of my art supplies for emphasis.

   She smiles again and nods, and I'm about to leave. I know I should go. That conversation was necessary for us, but that's all it was. I cannot and should not expect anything else from her.

   "Hey, Holden. I'd love to see your work, sometime."

   Did I imagine that? Did she really just say that to me, as my hand is on the door to leave? Maya wants to see my paintings? 

    I turn back, trying to look neutral. "You would?"

   "Of course. Yeah." She's smiling, but I can't figure out if she's humoring me or not.

   "Okay. Well, maybe I can give you my number? If you wanted to... see them... we could arrange something." My voice is stiff and unsure.

   She considers this. Maybe I shouldn't have jumped right to giving her my number, but whatever. She can turn me down if she wants to.

   "Okay." This one word changes everything. For me, at least.

   I pull out my wallet and slip out a business card, sliding it across the counter a minute later. There it is. A photo of me, taken over a year ago, and my name, number and location.

   "I should go," I say again, because I don't want to seem like I'm trying to stay any longer than necessary.

"Yeah. Okay," she says quickly. I see her lift her hand to wave. "Bye."