Maya

"Wow, it's so good to see you!"

Kayleigh Alberts, Nella's best friend since high school, tells me, on Saturday afternoon.

I already went to the Pet Depot interview that morning. It went okay, but it was a tiny little place in a strip mall beside a gas station, and I'd have to take a bus there every day. The man who interviewed me was nice and seemed to think I'd be good for the job, and said he'd call me soon. But now I am at the Art Hub, the biggest art supply store in town. It's only a ten minute drive from the apartment and it's close to the newspaper, where Nella works.

"Yeah, you too," I tell Kayleigh, leaning onto the counter.

She's standing behind it, her dark hair pulled back into a braid. She's tall and thin and has thick framed glasses and some tattoos on her forearm.

"This isn't really a formal interview," she goes on. "I mean, cause I sort of know you already and I just had one of my guys quit because he's starting an apprenticeship in a few weeks."

It stings, that she says she sort of knows me. For three years before I left, I saw Kayleigh almost every day. She and Nella usually included me in things they did, like going to the movies or to the harbour to meet their friends. We were only a year apart in school, and we knew all the same people. Kayleigh was my friend, too.

"Oh, okay," I say, looking around the store.

It feels eerily similar to when I was used to hang out there as a teenager. I wanted to be an artist, then. I wanted to paint something so amazing that everyone would want to see it. Kayleigh supported my dreams. So did Holden. Nella was the one who said being an artist wasn't a real career. She said I'd have to get a real job to make money. But none of that mattered, after all.

"I need a job, but this job would be... it would be really cool," I say, looking back at her.

"Do you still paint? I know Nella said you were in New York for awhile, that's awesome." Kayleigh seems impressed, while I just feel defeated.

"No, I stopped painting when my... when our mom got sick."

Her face changes at my words but she stays where she is. "Right. Sorry."

"Oh, no, it's... fine. I sort of lost myself, and haven't really figured out what I want to do yet. But... I appreciate you considering me for the job," I say, smiling again.

"It's yours if you want it. I mean, as long as you're good with weekends and evenings. Not everyone wants to work then, but, you know... someone has to. I'm here during the week until 6P.M. usually, and some Saturdays. I have a few people who work week day evenings and then there's Clarissa, who works weekday mornings. She's seventeen, but she's like the best employee," Kayleigh goes on.

I finally realize that she's offering me a job. Isn't she?

"Um, really? Yeah, I'm good with whatever, really," I say, still being careful.

"Cool. It's $13.50 an hour. I know it's not a lot but... yeah and you'd be part time, but it's three or four shifts a week, depending," she continues, and I'm trying to input all that information and figure out what that means for my pay cheques. For now, I decide that it's good enough.

"Okay," I say, eyes wide. "Thank you."

"Yeah, of course. It's easier for me anyway, I don't have to go through the hassle of running interviews. And you know art, you'll pick up all the products and stuff easily," she says, nodding. I watched as she pulls out a binder and flips some pages. "Here's the cheat sheets, you can take them home and read them over. Uh, and then I just need you to fill out this. Name, basic info, address, email..."

I pick up the pen she offers me and fill out the form quickly, signing at the bottom. It's weird writing the new apartment address since I don't even live there yet, but I do it anyway. When I hand the paper back to her, she nods and shoves it back into the binder.

Up until now, she's been pretty professional. She's the manager of this store and she just hired me on the spot, but she's also my sister's best friend. I don't know where the line fades, so I just smile and step back.

"I'll email you the schedule for this coming week." She pauses, looking at the computer screen now. "It looks like it'll be Tuesday and Wednesday and then Saturday, Sunday."

"That's perfect," I say.

"I'll be here training you during the week, and we'll figure it out from there?"

I nod, still smiling. "Great. Thank you."

Someone comes in and the door dings, so Kayleigh turns to greet the man. I step back again, assuming I'm done there.

"Okay, I'll talk to you soon, Maya!" she calls out to me, even though I'm right there close to her.

"Okay," I say, "Bye."

I step outside again and the air is cool on my face and hands. Nella dropped me off and then took Willow to get some McDonald's, so I walk down the parking lot a bit and sit on the curb, my hands between my knees.

I have a job. I have an apartment. Everything has happened in less than a week and I feel grateful and scared and nervous all at once.

Then I remember that today was my last day in the hotel room. George called and had them charge two more days, but I know I don't want them paying anymore and I can't really afford to stay there until I can move to the apartment. I've avoided talking about this with Nella, because I know what she's going to say.

When her car pulls back into the parking lot of the art store, I stand up and walk over right away.

Willow is in the back seat and squeals when she sees me, then holds up her chicken nugget to show me. I smile at her and ask if it's good, to which she grins and takes a bite.

"Got you a cheeseburger," Nella says easily. "How'd it go?"

"Did you know Kayleigh was basically giving me the job?" I ask, rolling my eyes at my sister.

"Of course I knew," she says quickly, handing me the burger in that iconic yellow wrapper.

"Nella," I say, shaking my head. "Now your husband's best friend got me an apartment and your best friend got me a job."

"I have good connections, what can I say?" she says, then laughs.

"Well, thank you," I finish, then unwrap the burger and take a bite.

She's back on the road again before she starts talking, and I finish the burger and ball up the wrapper, dropping it back into the bag of garbage.

"So," my sister says, in that tone that says this is important. "Where are you staying until Friday?"

It's Saturday afternoon and I've already checked out of the hotel. She knows this. I obviously didn't think this through because now I'm homeless.

"There's a motel literally on your street, Nella. It's like forty bucks a night. I can do that until Friday," I tell her, practically holding my breath.

She scoffs and then shakes her head. "You will not do that."

"Why not? You insisted on having George pay for the fancy hotel for five days. That's a lot of money, Nella," I snap, looking at her.

"It's fine," she dismisses what I said. "But at the sketchy motel, you could get... murdered." She whispers the last word even though her two year old does not know what that means.

"There's murderers just down the road from you?" I ask her and she snaps her head to look at me, then burst out laughing.

"I mean, I guess not. But that motel is... ew. No, we need a better option."

"As in?" I'm not sure there's another option at all.

She takes in a deep breath. "Dad-"

"Don't say it," I interrupt.

"It would only be those five days, Maya. You could stay there for five days and not even talk to him," she says, and I shake my head because she's definitely lost her mind.

"I didn't come back here to stay with him. I made a decision to actively avoid seeing him, actually," I tell her. "Sorry, but no."

She sighs and looks in the rear view mirror, at Willow. "You finished eating?" she asks her.

"Ya. All done," the toddler answers with a smile.

"Good girl," Nella says, smiling back.

We are already back at her house a minute later, and we get out and I wait for her to get Willow out of the car seat. I follow Nella towards her house and inside, as if we planned this. We didn't. I had no plan after going to the interviews today. My back pack is already there, sitting on the floor in Nella's living room. I'm not going back to the hotel, but I don't know where I am going.

"Hey ladies," George says, strolling into the room, an hour or so after we settle in with Willow.

"Hi Dada!" Willow yells at him, then waves.

"Got you a Big Mac," Nella says to him, and points to the bag on the table.

"Oh, yes!" he reacts, then turns and grabs it, then goes back to the kitchen. "Thanks babe!"

On that first day when I arrived at that house, I felt like an outsider. I didn't belong there, in a house that Nella and George had bought and made their own. I didn't feel like I should even be a part of their perfect lives. Now, just five days later, I know they aren't perfect. I know they let Willow make a mess when she plays. And I know they don't eat only organic, homemade food. Those were assumptions. I am sure George had assumptions about me. Now, I feel good here, too. I feel like I'm welcome and wanted.

"So, I mean, you could sleep on the couch here, I guess," Nella says a few minutes later, continuing our conversation from the car.

"No," I say right away. "This is your personal space. You don't need me here all the time. The motel will be fine. I can walk-"

"Walk? To the motel? You have a problem with your brain, I think," Nella laughs, as George appears in the doorway to the living room.

"What are we talking about?" he asks, and I see how he smiles at Nella.

"My sister here thinks she can stay at the sketchy Motel 5 down the road, for five days," Nella practically yells.

The face George makes is mostly disgust, with a bit of humour. "Are you looking for a drug deal? Maybe a good ol' orgy?"

"George!" Nella yells at him, pointing at Willow.

He laughs. "Pretty sure Willow doesn't know what an orgy is, Nell."

"Just looking for a place to sleep, until Friday," I say, to George.

He thinks for a minute and I can practically see the gears turning in his head. Nella is playing with Willow now and I just sit there, thinking about calling the motel to make sure there's a room. I mean, I'm sure there's a room. It's one of those motels where there's like fifteen rooms and they all have access from the parking lot.

"Marcus," George finally says, getting both mine and Nella's attention.

"Marcus?" she asks, not understanding. I don't either, but I don't say anything.

"He has a guest room. He has that whole house," George says, and it hits me what he's suggesting.

"That's actually a good idea," Nella says, but looks at me carefully.

My heart is pounding because there's no way I can stay with Marcus. He's too gorgeous, he's too available and he's too broken. Like me. I know this is not a good idea. I also know I'll likely agree, if it's an actual possible option.