Page 1 of Mine to Ruin

Chapter 1

Ellia

A prodigy, an exceptional talent. The labels the art industry put on me before I had even turned fourteen swirl in my head as I wait for my turn. I plaster a smile on my face because today is about celebration, not recalling the past.

I climb on the stage and receive my art degree, overflowing with relief as my legs carry me to the rhythm of stormy applause. My dad jumps from his seat, eyes filled with pride. He claps, and next to him, my mom pats a tissue at the corner of her baby blue eyes, her lips curled into a bright smile. Her eyes shine with love, and my heart threatens to burst with warmth.

A sigh escapes my mouth at the sight of the empty chair next to my parents. It shouldn’t surprise me. For years, my aunt has been living in self-imposed seclusion. Still… I wish she would have made an exception and be here today. With the mix of fulfillment and pride thick in my chest, I rush to my parents and they open their arms in an embrace.

“We are so proud of you,” my mom says, holding back tears.

Our moment is interrupted when my friends, Tara and Aubrey, run toward me, waving their own degree holders in the air. We crash together and laugh so hard I hold my stomach. One pic turns to endless, and both Tara and I whine while Aubrey promises it’s the last one. It never is.

After she’s happy with finding a few good ones, I raise my eyes to the cloudless, infinite blue sky. Birds stretch their wings and contentment washes over me. Surrounded by my favorite people in the world, I want to hold onto the moment before it disappears. The Nevada sun sears my skin and I wipe a tissue on my forehead. Nostalgia seeps through.

We have one more weekend together before Tara starts her internship at the Louvre in Paris as an art restorer, and Aubrey starts her internship as a photographer for Vogue.

“Where have you gone again? I swear you live mostly in your head.” Aubrey snaps her pink manicured fingers in my face, her green eyes seeking mine.

“Let her be. It’s normal to be a little nostalgic. Aren’t you?” Tara asks, putting her black hair into a bun and fanning herself.

“No, all I can think about is New York. I am on my way. Imagine all the people I will meet… and the clothes!”

I loop my hands around their elbows and whisper, “I’ll miss you both so much.”

“No, no crying. I spent two hours on my makeup,” Aubrey says, throwing her head back and blinking.

“It feels strange,” Tara says, and we nod, emotions stark in the air.

“See you back home.” With a smile, I backtrack and catch up with my parents.

My dad drives to the Italian restaurant we always go to when they’re visiting me, and my stomach growls a little in anticipation. The waiter greets us, asking if we want the usual. The smell of homemade, fresh-out-of-the-oven dough envelops me, and my father orders a bottle of wine. After the server pours us all a glass, my dad raises his for a toast.

“To many more achievements. I am proud of the young woman you have become.”

We clink and I take a sip of my wine. The fruity bouquet explodes on my tongue.

“My baby girl graduated. It feels like yesterday I held you in my arms,” my mom says, her eyes swimming in memories.

“If it were up to your mother, you would still live with us and paint in the attic.” My dad winks and nudges me as I muffle a laugh.

“Hey, you two. You always gang up on me.” She pats her heart in faux indignation.

Both Dad and I grin. The server places our plates on the table, and my dad says, “Nervous about Monday?”

“Just a little, but I am excited to get a better understanding of what they are looking for.” I couldn’t believe my luck when a job offer came from the Reyes hotel chain to fill their new hotel with my paintings.

“If they picked you, it has to be because of your abstract style. They obviously know who you are and saw your portfolio.”

“Your paintings are too valuable to hang up in a hotel…” my mom complains, poking at the celebratory bubble.

“Mom…” One word to warn her not to go there.

My dad pats my hand with his. “It will be a great opportunity to display your talent. You will enhance the life of every guest. No one will ever leave untouched by your ethereal, signature style.”

I nod at my dad. All I want is to bring forms to life, to entrap viewers for a moment so that nothing else is on their minds, but what the painting is all about.

“Mom, this way I can still do what I love.” A chill rolls through me, the abhorrent memory of what happened to me on my last gallery opening still living in my head rent free. I can’t give that man any more space. I’ve moved on.

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