The Foolish Painting

 She was painting in her room when suddenly, she heard a knock on her door. When she opened it, she wasn’t surprise to see it was her mother. Her mother took one glance around the room and threw a bunch of matchsticks on her bed and left without saying another word.

She was always used to this.

But this time, instead of hiding it under her bed, she used it for burning all of the law and medicine books her parents gave her as birthday and Christmas presents. 

Why, she thought as she stifled her tears, why did I have to be born in a family full of lawyers and doctors?

She wiped her eyes dry and looked at her painting. It was her own interpretation of her favorite flower, the purple rose. She was painting it for the contest she was entering . While she was staring at her painting, she heard her phone ring. It was her teacher and mentor, Mr. Carson. 

“How are you, Louisa?” Mr. Carson asked, full of smiles as always. 

“I’m fine, “Louisa said. “I mean I burned some of my things but other than that, I’m as sane as ever. Why did you call?”

Mr. Carson let out a giggle “I just called to tell you that the contest deadline of the painting your making is in 3 days and it’s already Wednesday. Have you started already?”

At least someone supports me, she thought, at least someone knows my talent.

“I’m positive I’ll have it finished in 3 days when the contest ends, Mr. Carson.”

“That’s grand, Louisa. How about you take a photo of what you finished and I will see what needs to be Improved.”

 “I’m fine with that, Mr. Carson. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Your very much welcome, Louisa. Also, can you stop by my house? I think you forgot some of your brushes.”

“Sure, ok”

When they were both done talking on the phone, Louisa felt happy and no longer looked distressed on what had occurred between her and her mother. She took a photo of her painting and sent it to Mr. Carson. Then, while packing her things, she noticed her paintbrushes were all with her.

Strange, she thought, I thought he said that I left some of my paintbrushes. She shrugged the idea and went down to her front door.

 “Louisa Matthews! Come right here this instant!” Louisa turned around to see it was her father calling her. Her mother was there too but was drenched in her tears.

 “I’m just going out to see my – “

“YOUR WHAT! YOUR ‘STUDY BUDDIES’ FOR THE UPCOMING ENTRANCE EXAM AT HARVARD? WELL I’VE GOT NEWS FOR YOU YOUNG LADY. I KNOW YOUR DIRTY SECRET: THAT YOU NEVER BURNED THOSE STUPID ART SUPPLIES AND THAT YOU INSTEAD BURNED YOUR BOOKS FOR LAW AND MEDICINE.”

Louisa stood there in front of her father, tears trickling down from her eyes. “How did you know?”

At this point, her father grabbed her mother’s hair and shouted, “OH, YOU THOUGHT YOU’RE PHD GRADUATED MOTHER WAS SO GOOD AT KEEPING SECRETS. WELL, AT FIRST I HAD TO ADMIT SHE WAS WORTH HER DEGREE. BUT I AS ALWAYS TELL YOU, I AM A LAWYER AND I HAVE MANY WAYS.” 

“STOP!” Louisa screamed, her tears intensifying now. “Stop. Your fight is with me, not mom. I don’t understand why in the world don’t you ever support me!”

Her father let go of her mother’s hair and said, “WELL MS. ‘WHY IN THE WORLD DON’T YOU EVER SUPPORT ME’, IN CASE YOU NEVER READ ANY OF YOUR IDENTIFICATION RECORDS, YOU ARE A MATTHEWS AND A MATTHEWS BECOMES AND MARRIES A DOCTOR OR A LAWYER. WHAT WILL YOUR ANCESTORS SAY WHEN SEE YOU IN A APRON FILLED WITH PAINT? WHAT WILL THEY SAY IF THEY SEE YOU WITH PALETES AND BRUSHES INSTEAD OF BOOKS? THEY’LL SAY THAT YOU’RE A COMPLETE-”

“A COMPLETE WHAT SIR?” Louisa screamed, her tears getting more plenty. “A COMPLETE FOOL? DON’T WORRY SIR, I’M ALWAYS USED TO YOUR JUDGEMENTS TOWARDS MY ABILITIES!”

Louisa’s crying and tears kept getting louder and more plenty, but her fighting spirit pursued.

“Can’t you see sir? No matter how hard I try, I can’t be like you and mom. I don’t want to memorize the whole constitution or the anatomy of the human body! I love art and I am obsessed with it. No family legacy will ever change my passion, my dream! Your kind never even graduated from the office!” 

 Mr. Matthews face soared with rage as he continued to shout, and this time, pull Louisa’s hair. “You listen to me you little snake,” he hissed as he hardly pulls on Louisa’s hair. “I gave you and your mother this life. This house. I loved your mother, not you. I never even wanted a daughter and you dare defy the family legacy. You are just like your mother’s former husband: he died leaving this world with nothing to remember him for but of his complete obsession with his music. Do you want to die like that? Or do you want to make a name for yourself?”

Louisa pulled away from her step dad, dried her tears and bravely said, “I am already like him. I am obsessed with what I do and I don’t need the love and knowing of others to live. All you ever do in work is corrupt the justice system!”

“I’ve had it! I’ve had it with this lady, Clarissa. She’ll never deserve the title of being my ‘daughter’. I refuse to have an imbecile in the household. Tell her to leave and to never return. No one, not even a woman, ever defies the legacy of the Matthews family.”

Louisa sniffed back her tears and went up to her room. She closed the door and began to think of her real father, who Louisa was really attached to. She remembered her real dad, who loved her so much. She thought of all the memories she had with her father: the times where he would take her to the restaurant he worked. The times where he would laugh and play with her, and many more countless lovely times. She then had a moment of realization: she was like her father and she loved her work. With regained strength, she went straight to her door to run away from the house when suddenly, the door kicked open. 

“Henry please. Leave Louisa alone,” Clarissa Matthews said, pulling on her husband’s shirt, begging him

“Clarissa, would you like to be kicked out of this house just like her? I’m sure the hospital you work in would love to hear that one of their doctors now lives in the streets,” Henry said, “After all, I do control both of our bank accounts now, right?”

“What do you want, sir?” Louisa asked bravely. “I can assure you that I will no longer be a burden to you. I have decided to leave this house. I’ll stay with a friend.

Then all of a sudden, Mr. Matthews let out a big laugh. He laughed so loud, Louisa almost thought she would laugh too.

Almost

“You…… you don’t even have…. any friends!” Mr. Matthews said, in between laughs. “Oh…oh my Clarissa. She doesn’t know yet? Oh…oh my. Clarissa you tell her. You tell her who told me everything about her obsession of painting. You tell her everything and then tell her to leave this house. I…I can’t take it.” Mr. Matthews said, laughing so hard.

 “Mom?” Louisa called. “You told him about my secret. I thought you loved me. I thought you would never betray me. How could you do this?”

Clarissa was drenched in her tears. “No… no dear. It wasn’t me who told him. I swear I never told anyone. Please believe me.”

Louisa cried even louder. “Then mom, who the hell told him! Who else am I close with?”

Clarissa hugged daughter and cried even louder. Then she said as soft as possibly, “It was the only person who believed in you dear. The only one who you go to for your problems and to critic your works.”

At first, Louisa looked blank. She thought and thought of who could have done this. Then, felt something under her bed. Paintbrushes, she thought, but they’re complete. So that means that he…. He… he… told me to go to his house so I can come down from my room? So, my step dad can? She had a moment of realization. She cried so loud that her father heard her from downstairs and laughed so loud.

“NO… NO…. How could he do this? How could he do this? I… I trusted him. He was my friend. My only friend. HOW?” Louisa shouted and cried and tried to break loose from her mother’s hug. “HOW? He doesn’t even know him.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t make my password that strong in my phone. Your father must’ve saw me chatting with him on the phone about your artworks and he must’ve bribed him to betray you.”

Louisa looked back at all the times she talked with Mr. Carson; the times she needed help with her paintings, the times she was calling him to rant about her parents. That person, that snake was an idiot of all she known.

She was still struggling from her mother’s grip. “No… NO! I CAN KILL YOUR HUSBAND AND MR. CARSON. I’LL USE BOTH THEIR BLOOD FOR MY FUTURE PAINTINGS. I CAN KILL THEM. LET ME GO MOM. LET ME GO!”

 “Hush Louisa… hush now. I know you can. But Louisa, don’t you think it’s all for the best? Everyone you know while doing your art has betrayed you. Maybe your step-father is-”

“RIGHT? OH, I GET IT MOM. YOUR SIDING WITH THEM. YOUR SIDING WITH THE ENEMY. YOU ALWAYS THINK I’M CRAZY LIKE DAD. WELL, LET ME TELL YOU MOM THAT I DON’T CARE IF THE WHOLE WORLD HATES ME FOR BEING A CRAZY, ART-OBSESSED PERSON. WELL, THE WHOLE MATTHEWS FAMILY IS ALSO OBSESSED WITH THEIR LEGACY. I GRADUATED FROM YOUR OFFICE ETTICS. EVERYONE KEEPS TELLING ME THAT I’LL NEVER GET A REAL JOB FROM WHAT I’M PURSUING. WELL, THEY’RE DUMB AND I’M THE ART PRINCESS. I’M DESTINED TO BE GREATER THAN EVERY SINGLE LAW – LOVING, MEDICINE – OBSESSED GE-”

 Clarissa slapped her daughter. “ENOUGH! FINE, LEAVE THIS RESIDENCE. LEAVE. I DON’T CARE. YOU THINK YOU’RE WORK IS GREAT? WELL LOUISA, YOUR MENTOR ALWAYS TELLS YOUR STEP-DAD THAT HE LOATHES YOUR PAINTINGS. HE SAYS YOUR WORK IS A MORTIFICATION OF THE ART WORLD. THAT PAINTING OF THE LILAC ROSE? HE SAID THAT WAS YOUR MOST FOOLISH PAINTING. HE SAID THAT ROSES ARE NOT LILAC. ROSES ARE AS RED AS BLOOD. THE JUDGES WANT AN ORIGINAL WORK, NOT A FLORA THAT YOU ALTERED. YOU SEE? YOU WILL NEVER HAVE A LEGACY AS AN ARTIST. EVER.”

Clarissa slammed the door and left Louisa alone, crying on her bed. ROSES ARE AS RED AS BLOOD, ROSES ARE AS RED AS BLOOD! THAT WAS YOUR MOST FOOLISH PAINTING! YOU'LL NEVER HAVE A LEGACY!

Louisa got out of her bed and stood there, in front of her rose painting. Then, she grabbed a bucket of paint and threw it all over her painting, crying harder and louder than ever. I’ll die like my father, she kept thinking, no one will ever remember me. Look at me. I ruined my whole painting. Roses…. Roses……are……

She knew what to do. And if her abilities helped her, she can submit the painting in 3 days.

She got a blank canvas. She drew a new picture of a tall, beautiful rose on a porcelain vase. But this time, she added a new feature to her painting: a mirror, reflecting a hideous, dying rose, yet still tall and still placed in that porcelain vase. For two straight days beginning at midday when her parents were cross at her, she drew and redrew her picture until finally, it was time to paint.

She painted everything easily: the porcelain vase (lilac & white), the mirror’s edges (gold & black), and the dying rose (brown and pale green for the stems). The only problem was the beautiful rose. At first, she grabbed her paint containers to find another shade of purple. 

There was no more purple paint.

Louisa began to panic. What will I do? My parents will just burn the paint I’ll buy and all the stores are closed now.

Then, she remembered something her late father always told her. “Louisa,” her father once said, “I don’t want you to be complacent of your skills. You should always be ready to sacrifice everything and anything for what you love and you should never be dependent on anyone. If you do all the things I say, you’ll be a royalty of your abilities. You will always and forever be one because only true royalty of their abilities can sacrifice and give up anything whatever it takes to pursue what they love.” 

She remembered how her father died. He died because he was dedicated to his work. He was obsessed with it and everyone thought he was a fool.

Louisa always understood her father was a fool but for a completely different reason. Her father and other fools were the only ones brave enough to sacrifice everything for what they love.

She took a deep breath. She now knows what color to paint the rose.

She hesitated but pursued with her plan. She went under her bed and lit the first matchstick then painted the rose. She did this until there were no more matchsticks. For the first time, she admired her painting and after 2 days of no rest, she finally went to sleep.

 “Mr. Carson, why are you here?” asked Clarissa when Mr. Carson arrived at their house on Saturday morning. 

 “Henry told me all that has happened with Louisa. I felt guilty and I wanted to apologize for all I have done and to maybe encourage her to still submit her painting to the contest. May I see her?”

 “Look Mr. Carson, I know you’re sincere and I will let you see her. Please be warned though that she is quite – violent with apologies.” 

“I’ll still do it. It will forever be engraved in my conscience if I don’t.”

Clarissa shrugged and called Louisa. No one answered. She called again and no one called. “I’ll just take you up myself to her room,” Clarissa said. “She’s probably just asleep.”

When they were already at Louisa’s bedroom, she called her daughter.

“Louisa, wake up. Someone’s here to see you.” They heard a moan and then nothing happened. Clarissa finally opened the door and said, “Louisa! Did you not hear me? I said someone is – “

She saw her daughter on her bed, her linen and bed sheets drenched in blood.

“Oh my! Oh my! Louisa is drenched in blood. Give me my doctor’s bag, Mr. Carson, quickly!”

Mr. Carson quickly went down to find Clarissa’s doctor’s bag. She went near her daughter. “Who did this?! You’re step-father? You’re – “

 “Mom,” Louisa said, smiling at her mother. “I did this and I’ll be alright. Just submit the painting I did to the contest. Please.”

 Clarissa had tears in her eyes. “Why… you were a fool like him!”

 ”Yes, and I accept that. That’s because only fools, like me and dad, are the only one’s brave enough to sacrifice…. everything. I……. told …...you……before…….”

 Louisa smiled weakly, but tenderly to her mother then pointed to her painting. “I am the art princess and maybe a foolish one but still ready to give up everything for what I love.”