Chapter 1 - The Perfect Life
Maplewood was my home. It was the place where I grew up, it was where my art was based and where all my inspiration came from. My whole life seemed like it was a painting in the perfect harmony.
At twenty years old, I had everything I could ever ask for in my life, a loving family though not without its struggles, a nice group of friends even though we had all finished high school and we didn’t talk much and my career as an artist and photographer was slowly growing. The vibrant paintings brought to life the world around me and had raw and pure emotions all through them had started to gather the attention of the local and surrounding galleries.
It seemed like my life was finally falling into place, or so it seemed. One day my father had come home, the skin around his eyes pink and his eyes glossy. His arms held a box with his name on it, he walked past me without saying a word and i knew better then to ask him questions about his work. He never answered them anyways, but mum would tell me later hopefully if dad talked to her but I don’t know this time seemed different because I know my dad isn’t high up in his company. We lived paycheck to paycheck currently because my art wasn’t all that popular and I wasn’t well known in the photography area yet. So, dads work was pretty much the only thing that was paying the bills right now.
Slowly the day dragged on until dinner was done and my parents, little brother and I were all sitting at the dinner table.
“Kids we have something to tell you,” My father began, “today was the last day of me working where I was, I don’t know what is going to happen from now on but your mother and I will be needing more help.”
“But I’m only 15” my brother started
“We know and don’t want to hear it,” my mother stated in a harsh tone “you are old enough to get a job and do your school at the same time. You sister did it.”
“Yeah, but she does nothing for work all she does is sit in her room and paint all day. I bet she hasn’t sold anything.” my brother continued.
“Yes, well we are going to talk to her about that son.” my father went to continue but i got there first
“What do you mean talk with me about it? There is nothing to talk about. You both said that it was okay for me to do my art and sell it at the local markets. I am only just starting to get picked up by the local galleries and.” I was starting to get really angry and my parents could tell by my tone
“We know which is why we didn’t want to do this but at the moment we have no choice on the matter Clara!” my father snapped slamming his hands down on the table, “I got fired today for reasons you and you brother don’t need to know. We need your help or everything is going to go to hell for us all.”
My brother and I just looked at each other. “So, you are making us get jobs because you were the one that got fired.” he said as he moved his eyes back to our parents.
“If that is how you want to put it then yes. But hopefully not for a little while at least, but just keep it in your heads that if your father doesn’t get a job soon then you both will need to start looking for work,” our mother said “now both of you up to your rooms please your father and I need to have a talk.”
As my brother and I got up from the table we both looked towards our parents, then at ourselves. As we walked off to our rooms he asked “what’s going to happen Clara?” in a timid voice
My brother at only 15 was looking to me for advice as always. Because as his older sister I should have that but for once I said “I don’t know. For once I really don’t know what is going to happen.”
Slowly the days blended into one another. My art became my lowest priority and I had barely touched a paintbrush since my parents talked with us. My latest project and my camera both lay untouched in the corner or my room.
I had heard my parents talking in whispered tones last night. The bills were slowly pulling them under and in turn I know that what were once my dreams will never be my reality. I had to find a relatively good job to help support my parents and brother. Otherwise, who knows what will happen.
So, I began to rise of my desk chair and walk over to the canvas of a half-done painting and my camera, grabbing an old sheet on the way. I took one last good look, and slowly draped the sheet over my artwork, a tear slipping out of my eye as I did so. I turned around, marched back over to my desk and started looking for jobs, hoping and praying that I was making the right decision. Leaving the vibrant colors of my art and photography behind and opening a new door for a grey filled monotoned world of deadlines.
