Page 2 of Mine to Ruin

She places a hand over mine, her eyes darkening no doubt because of the man responsible for me stepping away from the art world for years until I couldn’t ignore my calling and went to art school.

“Of course, baby. They are lucky to have you.”

“I am happy for the opportunity they offered me.”

“You and your modesty, just like your father...” She shakes her head at both of us, love stretching the corners of her eyes.

If it wasn’t for my art professor, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance, but he pushed me to send my portfolio. The quick response, accompanied by a contract attached with a sum that made me take a second look, baffled me.

Through bites, my eyes roam around, and my heart constricts. Why isn’t she here? My aunt has to know how important this is to me. A sigh leaves my mouth and my mom notices. Disappointment laces her words.

“I am sorry Esther is not here. I wish I could say my sister has a valid reason.”

“Elaine, please,” my dad interjects, and my mom huffs.

“You always take her side.”

I have to tread carefully, as I say, “It’s all right, Mom.” I hide my disappointment behind a small smile. While I bond with Mom over everything, my aunt and I bond specifically over our art.

“She should have been here for you.”

“I am. Happy?”

My eyes bulge out and I jump to my feet and right into my aunt’s arms. Her floral smell envelops me and when she lets go of me, the flecks of paint on her hands awaken fond memories. Images of my holidays spent with her pops up. At her cabin, deep in a forgotten, but idyllic village, we painted to our hearts content. No pressure, just creative madness.

“I wouldn’t miss my favorite niece’s graduation.”

“I am your only niece.” I roll my eyes in a playful gesture and Aunt Esther tugs me to her.

“I didn’t see you in the crowd.”

A shudder rolls down her spine. “Crowds, can there be anything more awful? Besides, I don’t believe you getting a degree remotely says anything about your knowledge or talent.”

It never ceases to amaze me how she bathed in crowds years ago, when she was one of the most successful artists of her time, and now she avoids them like it’s her life’s mission. We sit down, joining my parents at the table.

“Esther, not everyone is a free spirit like yourself,” my mother says, crossing her hands, while my father tenses.

“How long are you going to play this card, hmm? It’s been years.” My aunt sighs and I eye the silent battle between the two most important women in my life. I feel like I’m missing something.

My aunt fills her glass with wine, the tension stretching like a guest overstaying his welcome. I could never understand the slight tension between them, and how my father perks up his ears at everything they say, preparing in case he has to play the moderator.

“How’s Jake?” I ask and realize my slip too late.

“You’re still with him?” My mom looks appalled. “For God’s sake, he could be your son.”

My aunt snorts, flicking a strand of her auburn hair, and my mom takes a bigger gulp of wine. “Yes, if I had him when I was fifteen.”

“He could be.” Their eyes lock in another fiery, silent battle.

“This is not about either of you––it’s about Ellia.” My father pins each of them with an intent stare.

“Sorry,” both of them say as my father massages his temple, and we finish eating.

After dinner, I walk my parents to their car, and they choke me in their embrace. I wave goodbye and walk toward my aunt who’s leaning on my car. She’s wearing a denim skirt and a floral shirt, her magnetic blue eyes roaming around the carpark. A sad smile appears in the corner of her mouth when I reach her and she sighs.

“I wish you never were drawn to painting.”

“Why?” I’m pretty sure my soul is made of colors. Without painting there is no me. It’s above calling, it’s infused in every breath of mine. She above anyone else should know that. Aunt Esther must read the confusion on my face.

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