There was just one other person I had to speak to.

To the world, she was one of the most talented contemporary sculptors of our time – someone whose highly sought work occupied exhibits in over a hundred museums across the world. Highly reclusive, barely conducting interviews anymore, word was that she had hidden herself away somewhere in the vast archipelago of islands beneath Greece.

Mom was always dramatic like that.

I hadn’t spoken to Jolene Ricketts in years, and I still remembered the last conversation. Well, more accurately, the last vicious fight. We didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but something told me that she was going to be indispensible to me as I really set this major crossroads into stone.

She picked up on the fourth try.

“Hullo? Margaret speaking,” the weary voice on the other line spoke.

“Mom… it’s me.”

“…My stars, Riley?”

I suppressed a small smile at the sound of her confusion. “Yeah, it’s Riley. It’s been a long time.”

“It’s funny… I thought I might never hear from you again,” she told me matter-of-factly. “I take it that you need something from me. Is it money?”

If people thought that Gloria Van Lark was stiff as a board, then they hadn’t met my mother. It always surprised me how such an emotive and passionate sculptor could be such a cold, callous bitch to her own flesh and blood.

“I need advice.”

“Advice,” she chuckled. “Why on earth would you call me in the middle of the night for advice?”

Oh shit, I thought to myself. I didn’t bother to check for the time zone difference…

“Because I need you, Mom,” I answered plainly. “I’m sorry to call so late, I didn’t notice the time… but if you can spare me a couple of minutes, I’ve got a problem that I think you can help me with.”

She sighed briefly. “Fine. What is it?”

“I met Gloria Van Lark today.”

The silence over the phone was deafening.

“Gloria Van Lark approached you? In the flesh? Describe her. How did she look? I need to know for certain.”

“I met Paulette first, who matched the stories. But the real thing was an old woman in a disguise that I can only accurately call homeless chic.”

“That’s her, alright,” Mom remarked. Of course she knew the truth about Gloria… her work had probably been sitting in Spinnoc for a long time now. “If Gloria came to see you, then maybe I was wrong about your painting … Did she at least make you an offer?”

“As much as I appreciate that stunning vote of confidence,” I gritted my teeth, “Yes. She offered to purchase some of my artwork, so long as I packed up everything and returned with her to California. She’s waiting for my final answer tomorrow.”

“You mentioned a problem,” Mom remarked. “I fail to see where it is, unless your problem is clawing for my attention while I’m trying to sleep.”

It didn’t surprise me that she failed to grasp the situation.

“Mom, I’m being torn three ways. New Orleans is magic to me. My friends are here. Everything that I know is here… San Diego is so far away… And then… There’s Lex.”

“Oh here we go,” mother said, letting out a little laugh. “You know, I thought you grew out of boy troubles a long time ago?”

“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.

There was someone else with her – Connor, in all likelihood. Even he couldn’t bother me now.

“Riley, I just want to apologize for the way I’ve been acting lately,” I heard him call for me. “I know that it’s not fair to you, and I swear that I’m okay with just being–”

The movements stopped at my doorway. I turned around, stepping away from my latest painting as I stretched before them.

“Holy shit,” Reiko muttered.

“That is… wow,” Connor murmured, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “I think this might be your best one yet.”

“You think so?” I asked nonchalantly, pulling up a stool and taking a seat. I followed their collective gaze to the paint, still drying against the canvas. Glancing down at my own clothes, I could see abrupt dashes of color all over, a sea of smudges and splotches.

I must have been painting like a wild animal.

“I take it back,” Connor continued. “I understand now. I thought the ones in the Closet of Doom were good, but this… this is on a completely different level.”

“This is what I see… This is what I want to create...”

Reiko swallowed. “That Van Lark chick is going to love you.”

“Oh, no she’s not,” I smiled knowingly. “Not when I’m through with her.”

Reiko exchanged a quick, confused glance with Connor, and then turned her attention back to me. “Wait, did we miss something? Because that lady’s been all you could talk about for months.”

I stood up, grasping both of them by the shoulder. I was careful to not smear any excess paint on either of them. “Order some delivery and crack open some beers, because I have so much to tell you guys…”

And I did.

I told them absolutely everything.

Every last detail about my relationship with Lex, the way we’d broken apart, meeting Gloria Van Lark, the conversations with Lex and my mother over the phone…

We conversed long into the night, and they both emphatically told me that they would support whatever decision I made.

My friends had my back.

And when I arrived at the steps of the Pulliam Museum, I had my definitive decision already in mind.

Even with no Lex Lambert in sight.

“Welcome back, Riley,” Gloria chuckled as I stepped into earshot. “I see that you brought some friends. I’m afraid that they won’t be able to join us… and what’s this?”

She was referring to the covered painting under my arm. I’d protected it with my life all the way here, and I unsheathed it before her, balancing the bottom edge against the top of my sandal as I held the huge piece up.

“My… my gods,” Gloria Van Lark murmured. Even Paulette’s cold smirk dropped, and she adjusted her spectacles to gaze at the artwork. “When did this happen?”

“I painted this yesterday afternoon, after our discussion,” I answered her.

Gloria composed herself, but was unable to wrench her eyes from the artwork. “This is magnificent, Riley. This is exactly the standard of art that I expect for my galleries. I can tell you right this moment that Spinnoc would benefit tremendously from including this piece… it would appear that my faith in you wasn’t misplaced after all. Like mother like daughter… If you can emote creations on this level, then you have all the makings of an extraordinary painter.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I told her.

She finally tore her eyes free and smiled at me. “Well, Riley… traveling light, I take it? No matter. We have everything that you could possibly need at the Foundation. Why don’t you go ahead and say your goodbyes to your associates here? We have a long flight ahead of us, and I’ll need to secure proper handling for this piece.”

“Actually, there’s something I need to say first,” I responded in the kindest voice I could muster.

“You’d better make it quick,” Gloria remarked, checking her watch. “We’re pressed for time. What is it, Riley?”

I thought back to every ounce of happiness that had ever happened to me – tender times with my foster parents, my friends, my time with Lex Lambert – and I summoned up the biggest, sincerest smile that had ever crossed my face, just as they peered over my shoulder.

“Fuck you.”