“What makes you think I'm lying?”
“People don't try to avoid talking about things that are 'nothing special.'“
“Like you and your mysterious scholarship domino?” She asks, a touch of venom in her tone. “Sorry,” she blurts in practically the same breath. “That was shitty.”
“I can drop it if?—”
“No. I...I need to stop acting like it's nothing.” She pulls a small sketchbook from her purse. “I never used to. But my ex convinced me it was frivolous and...Fuck him, ya know? Why would I keep listening to him—” Toni stops, drawing in a deep breath. “Anyway.” She hands the sketchbook to me and starts strolling along the sidewalk.
I join her, flipping open the book, soaking in as much of the content as I can from the streetlights.
Instead of page after page of the same thing, Toni's sketchbook is a menagerie of color, style, and talent. One features swaths of abstract pastels with lines running across, another contains detailed drawings of buildings I don't recognize, and another is full-color renderings of hydrangeas in bloom. Even the ones that could be classified as doodles are literal works of art.
“Your ex is a fucking moron,” I say. “You should be showing in galleries and shit.”
I'm drawn up short as I turn to a more recent page. Myown face stares back, everything slightly out of focus save for the eyes. I'm flattered and admittedly a bit unnerved, not because she drew me—though I want to tell her she should focus her skills on more worthy subjects—but because of what she captured. The man on the page doesn't look sad per se, but there is a clear melancholy there, peeking out through his eyes. I feel exposed.
I close the book and hold it out to her.
She takes it, putting it back in her purse. “I did years ago. Used to do murals, too.”
“Do you want to do that again?” She shrugs. “Lucy shows her metalwork sometimes. I'm sure she'd?—”
“Thanks.” Toni looks up at me with an expression too sad to be a smile. “I won't be here long enough to get something off the ground, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“Won't be here?” I ask, not liking any of the myriad implications brought on by that statement.
“That sounds so bleak.” Toni laughs. “I'm almost two months into a six-month sublease.”
“Ah.” I try to push my disappointment down. “Where to next?”
We come up to a duplex, and Toni sits on the stoop. “Don't know.” She leans back on her elbows, looking up at me. “I thought about New Orleans, certainly my brother's preference, but I hate the heat.”
“What about your parents?” I ask, leaning against the brick railing.
Darkness flickers across her features. “They're... Well, technically, they're not dead... at least I don't think they are. We haven't spoken in over a decade.”
“Damn.” I shove my hands in my pockets, unsure of what to do with them.
“Eh. It's fine. I moved out when I was 17, so it's not like we've ever had much of what you'd call a relationship.”
“That's so young,” I say, like I didn't enlist at that age. Not that I had any right to do that so young, either.
“I’d been freelancing adulthood for a few years by then, so I just went professional, upgraded to legally emancipated teen, rather than girl who sometimes sleeps in her car. And trust me, it was better than the alternative.”
She's smiling up at me, but I still want to gather her into my arms. I'd made so many dumb choices while being lucky enough to have a family in my corner. I didn't want to think where I'd be if I were on my own or how tiring and lonely that must've been.
“Why not just stay here?” The question slips past my better sense.
“I...” She pauses, sitting up, expression thoughtful. “I don't know. Coming here wasn't so much a plan, more an act of desperation.” She looks away, sheepish. “To be honest, I haven't even gone into Boston yet. Hell, I've hardly left my apartment, which is something sober me wouldn’t be owning up to.”
I take a seat one step down from her, placing us nearly at eye level. “So what you're saying is you haven't been giving this place a chance.”
“I guess.”
“Bet I could make you stay.” There goes my mouth again, writing checks I'm not entirely sure I can or should cash.
She smirks. “Oh? Gonna use your siren song on me?”
