A Work of Art (27 page)

“You're welcome.” He smiled. I smiled back.

Mom broke the silence. “So someone show me how she won a thousand dollars. What did you enter?”

“Oh, right.” Mr. Stewart pulled out his phone and started swiping through photos. “It's called
Gray Day.
She dropped it off in my classroom one day, before we even knew about the contest.”

I remembered. The same day I'd asked him to bail out my dad from jail.

“Here is it.” He handed the phone to my mom and tapped on the screen to enlarge the image. For the first time, I noticed how scared the girl looked. She was depending on her dog to protect her, but maybe the dog wasn't doing such a good job.

“This is the painting I wanted to see in that article about you and your dad,” Mr. Stewart said. “I know you were disappointed the article never saw print.”

I shrugged. It seemed like such a long time ago.

“But I have another bit of good news.
ArtWorld
is going to run a feature on the contest winners. First, second, and third place. They all get write-ups in the magazine, plus pictures of their work.”

Mom's smile was huge. I smiled, too. “Your friend's still the editor?” I said.

“Well, yes. But she wanted to do this. It'll be a great story. And it'll look really good when you apply to art school. Not that you'd have any trouble getting in. Did you check scholarships for next year?”

“Not yet.” I shook my head, embarrassed. “I guess I need someone to motivate me.”

“It looks like you're motivated to paint, at least.” His eyes wandered the room, taking in the stacks of paintings I'd done in the past months. I'd been on a creative streak, but a lot of them were only half-finished. Some of them I'd given up on altogether. Now I wished I had something solid to show him.

“Tera! My God!”

“What?” Mom sounded panicked. “What's wrong?”

His mouth was open like he was in shock. I followed his gaze to one of my paintings.
Want.

Slowly, he walked toward it. Mom and I trailed behind.

It wasn't a large painting—about the size of a poster board—but it stood out. As I watched him study it, I saw my work with fresh eyes. The shadowy man hovering over the girl, pulling out tendrils from her kicking body. The girl's mouth stretched wide in a silent cry. All the colors muted and grayed, what I imagined to be colors of pain.

Mr. Stewart leaned in, examining the details. “It reminds me of William Blake's work.” I saw what he was getting at. All those paintings with anguished faces, bodies crouched and suffering. All those poems about innocence lost.

“You like it?” Mom asked him.

“Absolutely.”

Mom squinted at it. To her, it would look ugly, but I knew what Mr. Stewart was seeing. He saw all those parts of me that had gone into creating it. Shame, pity, love. Most of all, love—not for my grown-up self—but for the little girl in the painting.

“It's you, isn't it?” Mr. Stewart asked me. “The girl in the painting?”

I nodded. They were all me, in some shape or form. They were all self-portraits.

“It's beautiful,” he said, and I couldn't help smiling a little, because I knew he was talking about me.

Huge thank-yous to Joyce Sweeney and Jamie Morris, for teaching me about the craft of novel writing and for cheering me on in every stage. I'm also indebted to Joyce's Tuesday critique group, especially Joanne Butcher, Cathy Castelli, Faran Fagen, Stacie Ramey, Jonathan Rosen, and Mindy Weiss. Another critique group—Pam Morrell, Robert Ochart, Erica Orloff, and Jonathan Van Zile—saw this book in its earliest stages and helped me find my way.

To all the people of SCBWI: thank you for guiding me through the world of publishing. And to David R. and Victoria Trenton: thank you for guiding me through the labyrinths of the prison system.

I owe a debt of gratitude to my agent, Tina P. Schwartz, and my editor, Jacquelyn Mitchard, for taking a chance on a new writer and a tough subject. I hope I make them proud.

Lastly, I want to thank my family—including Mom, Dawn, Eva, Harrison, and Megan—for their unconditional love and support. I especially want to thank my husband, Adam, and my son, Caleb. You guys are the best family ever!

Copyright © 2015 by Melody Maysonet.

All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

Published by

Merit Press

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

www.meritpressbooks.com

ISBN 10: 1-4405-8254-8

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8254-7

eISBN 10: 1-4405-8255-6

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8255-4

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Maysonet, Melody.

A work of art / Melody Maysonet.

pages cm

ISBN 978-1-4405-8254-7 (hc) -- ISBN 1-4405-8254-8 (hc) -- ISBN 978-1-4405-8255-4 (ebook) -- ISBN 1-4405-8255-6 (ebook)

[1. Artists--Fiction. 2. Fathers and daughters--Fiction. 3. Sexual abuse--Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.1.M39Wo 2015

[Fic]--dc23

2014039495

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their products are claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in this book and F+W Media, Inc. was aware of a trademark claim, the designations have been printed with initial capital letters.

Cover design by Sylvia McArdle.

Cover images © stillfx/123RF; Sergejs Rahunoks/123RF.