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Six
Holden still lives a few streets over. It’s so close that, when I was a kid, my mom used to let me walk there by myself during the day because there are sidewalks and the world wanted to make it as easy as possible for me to see my best friend.
But now it just makes me feel weird. It’s been so long that I forgot the one slab of concrete that tips like a seesaw when you walk over it and I stumble in front of an old man walking his golden retriever.
Corrine was out of school today for a college visit, so I didn’t tell her that I’m using her ex-boyfriend as my documentary subject, but I will. Soon. It’s not something to say over text or when she’s busy with fundraisers or considering the next four years of her life. It’s not even that big of a deal, so for me to make it seem like it is when she’s clearly exploding with all her to-do lists is just selfish of me.
When I turn onto Brasher Street, I spot Holden’s house down the block as easily as my mom finds crumbs on the tableafter I clean it. I haven’t seen this house for so long that I almost think I missed it. It’s a white two-story in the same design as its neighbors, with black shutters, a huge tree in the front, a matching one in the back, and a white fence around the yard. I always loved that yard. It was like you had a little section of the world to yourself. Holden always loved my house because of the pool, but I burn easily so it didn’t take long for me to resent everyone’s desire to spend hours pruning in the sun. Corrine doesn’t know how to swim, so.
I adjust my camera bag on my shoulder. It would have been nice if Holden had offered to pick me and all my equipment up, but, then again, I wouldn’t have accepted the ride. It doesn’t feel right to do unnecessary things with him when Corrine still doesn’t know he’s my subject.
My heart rate kicks into overdrive as I step onto the stone walkway leading up to his front door. I wipe my hand along my jeans and then ring the doorbell like I have so many times before his mom lied to me and said it was broken so I should just walk in whenever I got here. She also used to lie about other things, like she was too tired to get me a drink so I should just help myself. That she didn’t care what movie we watched, so I should just pick it. That she hated hearing the wordbathroom, so I should just feel free to use it whenever I needed to. It wasn’t until I was friends with Corrine and did these things naturally with her that I realized Holden’s mom was just letting me know I should be comfortable here.
There’s no chance of that happening today.
The door swings open and Mara’s smiling face greets me. “It’sa stranger!” she calls over her shoulder, her chin rubbing against a puffy baby-pink vest. “Hope it’s okay that I let them in!”
“Can’t they just take you and leave?” Holden steps into view wearing the same jeans from school that aren’t necessarily skinny jeans, but might as well be, with a white long-sleeved shirt underneath a vintage—and practically decaying—black The Commercials T-shirt. Corrine hates this shirt more than she hates the band’s music. She says it’s old and too sad. I have to agree.
“Holden,” his mother says somewhere deeper in the house. “Who is it?”
I step inside when Mara and Holden give me the space to. “Hey, Mama Michaels,” I say.
Holden cringes next to me. So maybe it’s weird that I’m referring to her so familiarly, but she always insisted I call her that and I’m not going to draw attention to how awkward it is between Holden and me bynotcalling her that. Or am I doing just that by trying to be familiar?
“Oh my god,” she says, leaning over the banister in a pair of violet scrubs with cracked eggs and chicks running all over. “Saine Sinclair.”
“Her last name is Davis now,” Holden says to me quietly.
Mara skips up the stairs and disappears into the living room, where the TV plays something with a lot of orchestral swelling.
“Oh. Sorry—” My words are choked off as she rushes down the stairs and pulls me into a tight hug. “I forgot,” I squeak out.
“It’s okay.” She rubs my back like she’s comforting me, and she speaks in a soothing tone. “I’m so happy to see you. It’s been too long, sweetie.”
She pulls away, holding me by my shoulders to get a good look. “You’re so grown up. I can’t believe it. I had a hard enough time accepting that Holden shot up like a weed, but seeing you is just making me feel like the Crypt Keeper.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Oh god, even my references are old.” She lets go of me and smiles at Holden. “What are you two up to? I didn’t realize you still—” She cuts herself off, but her statement didn’t need to be finished for us to know what she was going to say.
“She’s helping me with the contest,” he says.
“Yeah, actually, I was wondering if I could have a few minutes with you.” I shift the camera bag on my shoulder again. It continues to dig into me, heavy. “I’m making a documentary about it.”
“That sounds so cool, but I’m on my way to the hospital for a C-section. Can we make it work another time?”
I drop my jaw, knowing she’ll love this one. “You’repregnant?” When she laughs, I nod to her scrubs. “Another time would beegg-cellent.”
She snorts, putting on her jacket and grabbing her keys from the hook by the door. “That’s cute.” She kisses Holden’s cheek. “I’ll see you later, hopefully.
“Mara,” she calls toward the living room, “Holden’s in charge, sweetie!”
“Got it!” comes the distracted response.
She opens the door and then leans in to squeeze my cheek. “Good to see you. Bye.”
“Bye,” Holden and I say at the same time.
