‘Blooming takes a little work, my Ivy,’ she said. ‘And I’m always here when you need me.’
Aunt Carol worked long hours at the pharmacy, but she always came home in time to help me finish science project displays or rewrite essays when I doubted every word.
‘Even the most beautiful flowers need to be replanted sometimes
Once she drove me across town to find a specific shade of green paint for a school project, even though we had money neatly tucked away in envelopes labelled “groceries” and “emergencies”.
She never made me feel guilty about the expense. She just smiled and kissed the tip of my nose.
‘Art is sometimes an emergency, Ivy,’ she said.
She framed or carefully stored every sketch I ever made, even the crumpled ones I tried to hide in the rubbish bin.
She never made me feel guilty…
By the age of fourteen, my art corner had spilled into the hallway. By sixteen, I was winning local art competitions. And by twenty, I was taking buses to fairs in other states, carrying a worn portfolio and a thermos of Aunt Carol’s homemade lemon tea and freshly baked lemon scones.
As for Tanya and Charlie? They became shadows.
They didn’t come to birthdays or school plays; there wasn’t even a message after graduation.
But several times over the years, I received a card with my name spelled ‘Ivy’ and only a grand signature from my mother.
They became shadows.
When I turned 22, I entered an international art competition. My work, Legacy, was raw and personal. It depicted a girl building a staircase out of scraps, with two faceless figures watching from the edges.
Overnight, it went viral.
And, of course, I won. The prize?
A nice amount of bragging rights and $250,000.
She went viral overnight.
The local press called me ‘the artist who blossomed through abandono’ after an interview in which I decided to be completely honest about my circumstances.
Three days later, my parents showed up.
I was wiping tables in the café when Ern, my colleague, caught my attention.
‘Ivy,’ he said. ‘There’s a couple waiting outside, asking for you. And just so you know, they look emotional, girl.’
I stepped outside and froze.
‘The artist who blossomed through abandonment…’
There they were, the people who had left me years ago, as if I were nothing more than a nuisance they needed to find a new home for.
Tanya had smudged pencil makeup, and Charlie was holding a bouquet of nearly wilted flowers from a petrol station.
‘Darling! My darling Ivy! Look how you’ve grown. You’re gorgeous,’ Tanya exclaimed, stepping forward to grab my hands.
‘Damn, I’m proud of you, baby,’ Charlie said with a smile. ‘I always knew you had it in you.’
I just stared at them. I wasn’t angry, really. I was just waiting for the makeup to wear off.
Here they were, the people who had abandoned me years ago.
They insisted on dinner.
‘Like a family,’ my mother said.
I agreed not because I hoped for a reunion, but because I wanted to see what scenario they had prepared for the return trip.
If anything, one thing could be said about my parents: there was always a certain pattern.
They chose a local diner from my childhood. Of all the places, they chose this one. The side seats were smaller than I remembered, and the menu hadn’t changed much.
‘Like family,’ my mother said.
It was like stepping into a time capsule that never asked me to open it again.
Tanya ordered a salad she didn’t eat. Charlie got a burger and fries and barely touched them. And I picked at my plate of soggy potatoes that smelled more like vinegar than potatoes.
Across the table, I watched my mother fold her napkin neatly.
‘I’ve been praying for this moment,’ she said, blinking too much. ‘I want us to be a family again. I know nothing was and will be perfect, but what is it? And I think we can… heal together.’
It was as if I had stepped into a time capsule that had never asked me to open it again.
I almost choked on my laughter.
‘Reuniting is important, Ivy,’ my father said, nodding in agreement as if delivering a press statement. ‘Especially now.’
And then their masks began to slip.
‘Carol meant well,’ my mother said, leaning forward. ‘But she twisted things. She filled your head with poison. She always wanted a child, and then she saw how she could get us back through you… my girl.’
‘She used you, baby. She didn’t give us a chance to come back,’ Charlie added.
‘But she twisted things. She filled your head with poison.’
I didn’t say a word. My silence was louder than anything I could have said.
Then came the main point.
‘My car broke down,’ said Tanya. ‘It’s really dangerous. I’m scared every time I drive.’
‘We’re trying to move, actually, Ivy,’ said Charlie. ‘Your little sister is growing up! We just need a little help.’
And there it was: the truth.
They weren’t here for me. Of course. They were here for the money.