“Lex is trouble,” I confirmed. “I have to choose between launching my career into the stratosphere, or being with one of the most visible celebrities in British culture.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not. Are you familiar at all with footba– I mean, with soccer?”
“It’s not my thing,” Mom replied, “although the locals go batshit insane over the sport. You’re dating an English player? Who?”
“His name is Lex Lambert.”
“…Son of a bitch.”
My heart dropped. “Wait, what? What’s the matter?”
Mom laughed down the phone. “Lightning Lex Lambert? He’s one of the few I do recognize. His sticky thumb is in half of the scandals that come out of England… what on earth possessed you to chase him? He’s going to dump you in a heartbeat!”
“He’s changed, Mom,” I told her, realizing how naïve I probably sounded to her.
“Hogwash. He’s a renegade, Riley. Although, I’ll admit that marrying him would set you up for life… Paintings or no paintings, that’s the practical choice.”
“I don’t care about the money,” I told her emphatically. “I can make it on my own… I just need to know that I’m not making a huge mistake.”
“Choose Gloria,” Mom answered. “It’s the best decision I made in my entire life. Under her mentoring, your work will be known and appreciated the world over. I never regretted taking her up on the same offer…”
“Wait… what are you talking about?”
“Don’t be daft, Riley. You’re not the first Ricketts that drew the attention of Gloria Van Lark. No, she came to me about fifteen years ago, long after I’d established myself in the field. She told me that she could teach me to hone my craft to exceptional heights… and so she did.”
“Mom… that’s about the time that you left.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” she commented. “My art was everything to me, Riley. I made my choice and I don’t regret it. Look at me now… I’m arguably the most distinguished and decorated sculptor living today.”
“Mom, you… y-you left me? For… for her?” I stammered, barely able to acknowledge this sudden change in my understanding of things.
“When you put it that way, it makes me sound sort of rough, doesn’t it?” She chuckled airily down the line. “I saw to it that your needs were met. Your foster parents were sent appropriate amounts of money to give you everything that you needed, and they showed me some of your art as you grew up. It wasn’t too bad.”
I could feel my phone shaking against my head. All this time… I had been dreaming of gaining the attention of Gloria Van Lark… and the bitch had had a hand in ruining my childhood from the start.
My mother had abandoned me, yes. I had known that a long time ago. She chose her career...
Gloria Van Lark had done what she does best… She crushed someone under foot.
She crushed me…
Abandon your life.
Leave all of this behind.
I’ll make you world-famous.
I didn’t even care what Mom was prattling on about anymore. I took a few deep breaths and returned to the conversation.
“…You’d be making a fool of yourself if you turned down this opportunity, not that you were ever particularly bright.”
“I appreciate the help, Mom,” I told her.
She went quiet.
“You’re angry. Last time you got angry you didn’t talk to me for six years…”
“Maybe I can set a new record,” I replied, hanging up the line.
The phone clattered to the couch as I held my head in my hands and sobbed. The last couple of days had taken their toll on me, but I knew that I was making the right choice.
Fuck Gloria Van Lark, and fuck her museum. I’d come this far in life without her and I wasn’t about to let her control my life.
With this sentiment in mind, I needed some paintbrush therapy. I’d already prepared the canvas with a thin veneer of clear. I leapt off of the couch and perched myself in front of my easel, whipping up a dozen colors and blends for my pallet.
The white frame sat before me, eagerly waiting for my touch. It called to me, showing me exactly what I needed to do.
I dabbed my brush against a soothing blue, moving a glob of it to a clean spot on my pallet. Mixing in a touch of white to deepen the variance, I pressed the tip to the canvas... and I performed my greatest composition yet.
A few hours later, I was putting the finishing touches on the canvas when the door clicked open. I allowed myself to slip back out of my zone as the telltale clatter of Reiko’s boots navigated towards my studio, pausing at a few rooms.