Then I close up and go home to paint some more.I think about Luna in the condo with all her friends and how loudthey were.Tonight, the condo is practically silent.I catch myself listening for signs that she’s still there, which is none of my damn business, even if we do share a wall.Water runs a few times.A door closes, I think, but I can’t be sure because it’s too quiet.
She’s doing that on purpose.Has to be.
Because she’s angry, or because she’s nervous about what I might do?
I put on headphones and music and paint, not listening anymore.I try not to listen when I go to bed that night.I tell myself over and over that there’s nothing to listen for.
I keep doing it anyway.
Tuesday flies by, and still I think about her.I sell even more pieces than Monday and forget to stop for lunch.For the first time in a while, I’m worried about not having enough stock.I have a few artists sending more work in when they have it.Might have to get more though.Especially the painted shells.There are a few women up the street who do decoupage and paint shells with gold edges.I’m nearly out of all of them.A good amount of stock is stored up the street in a storage unit so I make a mental note that I need to make a visit.
Wednesday’s a lull in the middle of the week before the next wave of people comes on the weekend, but my friend Brian, who I’ve known since forever, texts me that he’s in town.His SUV is twice the size of my car, so I invite him over, then put him to work.
He doesn’t mind hanging out at the store, so we load up the paintings and make sure none of them will get dented up, then stop for some of the coffee he likes at one of the cafes, and then he comes along with me.
Well—he drives me and the paintings to the store.It’s nice having somebody there to talk to.I’m by myself most of the time, and I guess I didn’t notice how much I got into my own head.Brian catches me up on his job in the city—pays well, but it’s stressful—and the last date he went on—unsuccessful—and carries pieces into the store with me.
Of course, with all the new pieces, we have some rearranging to do.
“How’s your renter doing?Luna, right?”he asks while we’re on opposite sides of the store.
Shit.I forgot I even told him about her.For the first time all week, I hadn’t thought about her since I got to work.I let out a sigh.
“Doesn’t sound good.”Brian laughs.“Can’t be that bad, can it?She late on the rent or something?”
“Had a run-in with her the other day.She and her friends had a party last Friday night that kept me up.”
“Oh, shit, old man.How’d you survive?You okay?Need a ride to the emergency room?”He grins.
“Shut up,” I joke back.
Brian laughs again, his eyes bright.Hewouldgive me shit about being an old man.With his plaid shirt and board shorts he takes a step back, eyeing me when I’m quiet.
“Oh—you’re actually worried about it,” he says a few minutes later.“Did you two fight?”
“It was weird,” I admit.“The whole thing was weird.I didn’t mean to be a prick about it, but she was really upset.Now I don’t know what to do.It’s keeping me up at night.”
“It’ll be okay,” Brian says, sincerely this time.He shrugs nonchalantly.“Just a misunderstanding, right?She’ll come around, or she’ll move out, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“Doesn’t sit right with me.”
“I know.”He comes around the shelves and slaps my shoulder.“You’re too in your head, man.Worrying over one conversation for days and days.That’s why it’ll turn out.You care too much.”
Butwhydo I care?That’s what bothers me.I don’t have any reason to care about Luna like this.I don’t have any reason to think about that conversation over and over.
“Yeah,” I agree.
The door to the shop, ringing the little bell above the door, opens before either one of us can say anything else.I turn to call a greeting to whoever the customer is and can’t say a damn word, because it’s Luna.Standing there in a beautiful yellow sundress with her hair piled on her head in a messy bun.She’s fucking breath taking.
“Morning,” Brian says, like he actually works here.“How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” Luna answers softly.She glances at me and then pulls her lips into a thin line.Her fingers toy in front of her.It’s obvious she didn't come to fight and there’s something there.I can feel it.“I’m actually…” She takes a few steps into the store and stops dead in front of the shelf with my old sketches on it.The sheepish smile on her face drops away.She blinks, then blinks again, her breath catching.
“Hey,” I go to her, moving around the counter and past a few canvases.“About the other day,” I start but she’s not looking at me.She stares wide eyed at something else, completely distracted.
I look down at the sketch that’s affecting her this much.It’s a woman on the beach wearing a big sun hat, grinning up from her towel.Something about her face looks familiar.So familiar that my heart races.The woman looks like her.It’s not though, it can’t be.I drew that one years ago.
“What is it?”I ask Luna, swallowing thickly, hoping it’s something else.“Something wrong?”
