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He nudges my foot. “Why are we always talking about me? Let’s talk about you. How’s your mom? You said she called?”
“Yeah, before you got here. She was so excited. She sold two paintings last night!”
“This was at a gallery in New York?”
“Yes. Her friend, Claire, owns it. She told my mom it was rare for a new artist to sell her work that fast.”
“It IS rare, although if one influential person buys a painting, then usually whatever else is available will also sell. Word spreads and soon everyone wants the artist’s work. Well, not everyone, but people in the art community who want whatever’s in demand. Did she say who bought her paintings?”
“No, but if she had, I’d have no clue who the people are. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
“You wouldn’t have asked unless you thought you might know the people who bought the paintings.”
“How would I know them? I don’t live in New York.”
“You might know people in the art community. You said you like art.”
“I do, but I’m not familiar with the art scene in New York. I asked because I thought maybe someone famous bought your mom’s painting. Famous people often buy works of up-and-coming artists hoping the piece will go up in value. It’s less about the art and more about the investment value.”
“If it was someone well known, she would’ve told me.”
“So is she going to stay there? In New York?”
“You mean beyond the summer?”
“Yeah.”
“She didn’t say she was.”
“She should. If she gets a name for herself in the art world she could make a lot of money. And it sounds like she likes what she’s doing.”
“She loves it. And she loves New York.”
But I hope she doesn’t stay there. It’s too far away. It’s her decision to make and I’ll support her if she decides to move there for good but I don’t know what I’ll do without her. For most of my life it was just my mom and me so we’ve always been close. She’s not just my mom. She’s my friend. So I hope she doesn’t move. I’d miss her way too much.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
KYLE
After dinner Sageand I attempt to watch TV but she doesn’t have cable so there’s nothing to watch. That means we’ll end up talking, which is my least favorite thing to do. If we were just talking about her, or about random things like movies or sports, I’d have no problem. But unfortunately, when we talk, the conversation keeps steering back to me. She keeps asking questions I can’t answer so then I have to lie to her, which I hate doing.
Sometimes she catches me off guard and I almost give her an honest answer. Like when she asked if I accomplished my goal today, I almost told her about getting the gun because that was myrealgoal for today. Obviously, I would’ve stopped myself before I told her but my initial instinct was to tell her the truth. That’s what happens when you get comfortable with people. You let your guard down. You say too much.
“How late are you staying?” she asks, flipping through the channels.
“I thought I was staying over tonight.”
“That was only if we got a storm. But I don’t think we’re getting it now. It’s just supposed to rain.” She sets the remote down.
“Are you afraid to be alone when it’s raining?”
She looks at me. “No.”
I raise my brows. “You sure?”
She smiles. “Oh. Yeah. Actually I am. Very afraid.”
