Page 48 of Darling Beasts

Holding her breath, Talia turned toward Mom’s easel, and immediately wondered,That’s it?When she died, Mom was (supposedly) down to the final piece in her collection, but all Talia saw on the canvas were a few swipes of dark brown and some splashes of tan and blue.

What the fuck?

Daphne kept saying she was in a groove, on a wave, almost done, and Talia had therefore anticipated more. Way more. Maybe not a masterpiece—though, okay, she was a little bit expecting that—but, at a minimum, one or more completed works of art. Was she missing something? Talia checked the drying racks and found more of the same. A stranger might mistake these for abstract paintings, but they weren’t Daphne Carter’s style at all.

Talia rooted around near the easel. Her mom always started with a photograph or sketch of a person, usually some stranger she’d met at the beach, or in yoga class, or at a wedding she’d crashed.I’m an artist working on a series about brides and you’re the perfect muse, she’d say in one long breath. If and when the person agreed, they’d find themselves intensely befriended by Daphne, who’d paint them over a series of months. After the work inevitably took a dark turn, the relationship would go up in flames.

But Talia saw no inspiration here, other than sketches for already finished pieces. What had Mom been doing all those weeks and months?I’m almost there! I’ll be finished any day!

Deep down, Talia must’ve known her “almost there” was a lie, because she never asked to see anything when they chatted over Skype. Of course, there’d been some distance between them those last few months, distance created by Talia, who’d left the Ranch feeling cranky and smothered, while her mom metaphorically clung to her leg, begging her not to go.

“We didn’t get enough time together,” she’d said. “Why don’t you spend the upcoming term at the Ranch?”

Talia scoffed, deciding theMOTHER/NATUREof it all must’ve been getting to her. “I can’t skip an entire term,” she’d said.

“Doesn’t Dartmouth have a flexible schedule?” her mom asked, nearly causing Talia to faint dead away. Daphne Carter was not one to pay attention to those kinds of details, but shewas right, and it wouldn’t have been too difficult to shift stuff around. Under different circumstances, Talia might’ve, but Mom was more erratic than usual, more up and down, and... okay, she could admit it... more annoying.

Plus, Talia had been reeling from the Padres internship that ended in humiliation. Her dating history wasn’t the longest, and it never occurred to her she wasn’t the only person hooking up with the backup first baseman. All that to say, Talia was itching to leave town. Now it all seemed so stupid in hindsight. She should’ve stayed.

Talia rotated away from the easel to face the faded green velvet armchair, now covered in dust. It’s where Talia sat on the rare occasion Daphne invited her in. Next to the chair, on Daphne’s desk, something caught Talia’s eye. She stepped closer and recognized the gift she’d sent that final September, a framed copy of the review fromThe Escondido Daily Times-Advocate.

DAPHNE CARTER RECKONS WITH MOTHERHOOD

Even though Talia was the one who sent it, the starkness of the headline made her stomach drop. That and the fact the present had been sitting there atop the rose gold wrapping paper, barely opened, for eleven years. Her mom just... left it there? Why?

Talia picked up the frame and skimmed the first two paragraphs.

“As my children grow older, and are starting to pass me by, I’ve been interested in exploring the trippy, surreal experience of motherhood,” Daphne Carter explains in the catalog for her new show.

Talia shook her head. Children passing her by? Gabby was, what, thirteen?

“In this collection I’m feeling for the line, the barrier between where the mother ends and her child begins.”

For the mother, is there a line? This is one of the questions explored inMOTHER/NATURE, Carter’s exhibition at the Distinction Gallery in Escondido, which features ten paintings, mostly of herself and a child she calls “Circe.” Carter is a mother of three but is quick to point out that Circe is a “symbolic child.”

Circe might’ve been symbolic, but the basis of every piece inMOTHER/NATUREpart one was a photograph or sketch ofTalia, ages two through twenty years old. Being likened to the goddess of magic was flattering and all, but the whole thing made her uncomfortable, then and now.

“If it upsets you, I can go in a different direction,” Mom had said when Talia expressed her misgivings.

She said no, it was fine, which was the only right answer.

Part self-portrait, part cautionary tale,MOTHER/NATUREexplores the tensions between motherhood and personhood, and it highlights Carter’s ability to combine abstraction and figuration. The people in her paintings are burnt-out and consumed, yet still beautiful. The collection itself is a testament to the expansive nature of a mother’s love and an acknowledgment there is a dark side to even the best parts of life.

“Motherhood is stunning. It’s treacherous,” Carter says. “It’s life-affirming and life-giving, but in the end, it shatters your heart. Because eventually, the family unit becomes extinct, one by one. Children go on with their lives, and the mother is left clinging to the husks of what was.”

But you’re the one who left, Talia thought, then pushed the notion away. She’d obviously been spending too much time with Gabby. Sighing, she set down the frame.

A whistling sound made Talia jump. Something banged against the side of the barn, and her heart crawled all the wayup into her throat. She scanned the room for a weapon, a hiding place, some means of escape. Another bang and Talia got a grip. It was nothing. Just the dry California winds running through this creaky old place.

It’s a barn, only a barn, she reminded herself, as the hair stood on her arms. She peered up, and in the rafters saw only cobwebs. Talia didn’t believe in ghosts, or in hauntings, even though this barn was where her mother spent the last four years of her life. Even though it’s where she died. Talia had to get out of there.

After swiping the article from the desk and a sketch of her five-year-old self from the wall, Talia walked back out of the barn. The campaign meant a lot to her father, and she had to focus on him, not unanswerable questions and her long list of regrets. Maybe Talia could’ve helped Mom if she’d stayed, but it was too late now. One parent still needed her, and she refused to fuck it up twice.

Chapter Thirty-One

Gabby

“I am not moving in with you,” Raj said. “That is absurd.” We were standing outside the administration building because dos Santos kicked us out. He had a meeting, allegedly, at 11:43a.m.

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