BLANK CANVAS

It was unusual for him to see a friendly face at this hour, but he wasn’t complaining about it. Abby was one of the nicest people he’d ever met and a fantastic photographer to boot. He only wished that he could be half as successful as her when it came to booking gigs. “No, it’s okay. I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.” Between his hours at the bar and their respective photography work, it left very little time for a social life. “What kind of assignment was it?” He’d been on some late-night shoots before, but never one that pushed into the early hours of the morning. “Street work?”

•

Abby smiled then, glad that it wasn’t an imposition as she made her way to the bar. She slung her bag off her shoulder and set it beside her as she nodded. “You haven’t –– I feel like things have been insane but I kept meaning to reach out and...well,” she gestured at herself and the bar, “here I am. Figured it was easier.” She hated flaking on friends, hated not being consistent so Abby tended to go the extra mile when she could and her schedule allowed. Besides, the trains were running delayed at this time of night so she’d have time to catch her next one. 

♕

Ren wasn’t a good Samaritan — if anything, she was the furthest thing from it as she did nothing for anyone that wouldn’t benefit her ( the only thing that would ever experience her selflessness would be the Cartel but that was something that she made sure everyone knew about — at least, everyone but the people that she wanted to keep away from that part of her life ). And yet, there she was, helping an old classmate without any reward in sight. “You’re very welcome. You’re lucky I’m such a good person.” 

The Underboss had to wonder if Abby remembered her; she had always been good with faces but she never expected the other person to be, even if the face they forgot was hers. The way Ren saw it, there was no harm in helping someone that could be helpful down the line — and if that someone knew a different side of Ren, the one that wasn’t a criminal, it would be that much easier to convince them to help. “Kind of surprised you had to go through this to figure out how much of a bad idea it is,” Ren commented, grunting as she adjusted the supplies in her grip. “How much further is it now? You know, after we climb what could very well be the equivalent of Mount Everest for supply-carrying people.”

•

Abby laughed, appreciating the other’s candor as they walked. “Honestly I am lucky. Last thing I want is a news story about art supplies run amuck in subway station. I can see the pictures now –– paint splattered everywhere, glittered exploding on the platform.” A dramatic thought but one she didn’t count out altogether, not until they came to the top of the steps and she turned to the other, brow furrowed a bit as recognition tugged at her memory but she couldn’t place where she thought she knew the woman from. “Well, to be fair, I wasn’t planning on getting all of this but...you’re right, I should’ve known for sure. I was a bit too optimistic.”

“ No problem at all. ”  She has a car service at her disposal, taking the subway today had not been her plan, but Abby’s natural aura serves as a vacation from the life she leads. Even five minutes around that is difficult to pass up. “ I’m just glad I spotted you. But that’s what my number is there for you know, you should have used it. ” The spares she carries precede her, she’s never had any issue in crowds, people give her way. Perhaps it is the dancer’s gait, straight spine and straight lines, fluidity in each movement, perhaps it is because they notice her, and react of their own accord. She chooses not to have any relationship with the phenomenon, and forges forward regardless, paying little mind to the too-long glances or the irritation that might trail Abby’s large bounty. “ I have friends in the area who could help. If you need to get back we can give you a lift ? Are these all for personal use or for the kids ? “ 

•

She’d met Menaka by chance a few months back when shed first opened her small studio space and some girls had come by, talking about how the owner of their dance studio suggested they check it out. Abby had reached out to thank Menaka and eventually ended up taking photos of her studio. The older woman was the type of person Abby had looked up when she was younger –– easy going, kind, creative and dedicated to helping her community. And while Abby wasn’t in the position to do more than she was already, it was nice to know that there were people like Menaka who cared bout their community and contributed to its growth. 

It wasn’t like he was in a rush to get to work, he was the boss so he figured that he could be late whenever he wanted. “Not a problem, just figured it’s better than you leaving a trail of art stuff all the way back to your apartment.” He chuckled, amused at the thought. “It’d be like a modern day Hansel and Gretl sort of thing.” 

“I didn’t even know we had Michael’s anymore. I thought they all went outta business.” He wasn’t the artsy type at all. He probably stepped foot into a store like that once in his life for some project he had to do during elementary school. Most people around here didn’t have a car, it just wasn’t needed so the only way around was public transportation or ubering. He’d take anything but a taxi, honestly. Those drivers were always assholes. “You know if you get anything too big, you should see if Michael’s could ship it to your place for free. But only for free. No point in paying for that.” 

•

“Oof, it’s happened before, believe it or not. Not like everything I was carrying but I was ambitious one time and uh...decided to try a Costco run? A terrible decision really. Just call me Icarus, always flying too close to the sun,” she quipped, adjusting the bag as she began up the next flight of steps. “Nah, that’s A.C Moore. There’s a few Michael’s but I went to the one way downtown, you know, by the Flatiron building? It’s the bigger one but I guess that’s what got me in trouble.” Especially given the fact that they were now in Harlem...she definitely should’ve taken an Uber.

“Regardless, thanks for coming with, Archie.” He was a good friend, even if it wasn’t exactly in his plan for the day to help tote too many art supplies through the subway system. “See, I would but I trust my neighbors about as far as I can throw them,” which was....not far at all, “and it’s not like I have an office to deliver to instead,” the perks of freelance around the city, “so I guess until I figure my shit out, I’ll be suffering.” Said with a grin, though, because no one was more hard pressed to have a bad attitude about something than Abby, who could always find a silver lining. 

“Wait, who’s birthday is it? I have this bakery that makes the best cupcakes. I can pick some up on my way to wherever we’re celebrating!”

“I dunno...I’d rather not talk about them...I prefer focusing on the good dreams. The bright spots in a dark night.”

She’s isn’t one to be down about much. Abby’s got this relentless positive attitude, not in a nothing bad happens way but more so in a...there’s always good in the world. There’s always some light, even in the distance way. 

All that being said, she still dreams about sitting by her father’s bedside, watching him decline. She still recalls watching the way sickness sunk its mangled claws into his weak frame, still dreams about how he withered away until his bones were ash and his presence was absence, helpless to watch. 

“Part of me. Constant companion. Revealer of hidden truths?”

“Well, ignoring the fact that all New Yorkers are assholes and ignore bike lanes –– it’s super convenient to have one. Unless it’s raining....then less convenient. Still, bike if you can –– better for the environment!”

          “That’s because you are cooler than you think you are, baby, but don’t worry. You secret is safe with me,” the bartender countered with her own little chuckle, reaching below her to retrieve the liquor from underneath the bar. “I think they’ve been gettin’ in the zone for the weekend since Monday. I’m tellin’ you, this place never seems to die down. There’s always a group or somethin’ hangin’ here. But, what does that mean for you? You gettin’ an early start, too?”

•

“Thank you. Can’t have people knowing I secretly grew up wanting to be Carrie Bradshaw,” Abby snorted, swiveling in her seat a bit as Mercy prepared her drink. “Besides, the fact that you thought I’d drink it must give me some street cred, right?” Not that she eagerly sought it out but the thought still amused her. She picked out a plastic straw from the dispensary on the bar top and looked over her shoulder at the various individuals. 

“Hey,” Abby huffed with a laugh, giant canvas bag of art supplies held in front of her like a baby. It was too heavy to loop over her arms without feeling like it’d break one clean off, “thanks for helping me – this’ll teach me never take the subway to the art store.” There was no way she’d have been able to lug all the supplies she’d just bought up the subway steps without help, especially not with the crush of commuters moving in a steady stream in either direction. It was supposed to be a small errand but had turned out to be anything but “small”.