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Lin stared at her nephew’s painting, an intricate plan of parallel lines on top of each other in various colors and thicknesses. Betrayal was the title, but Lin couldn’t figure out why. She folded her arms over her chest and decided it wasn’t his best piece in the collection showing in Republic City.
“Please come to the show—not as head of security,” Su told her.
Su now bragged about her son’s “artistic vision” to a circle of prominent people in the center of the room.
She glanced around and found confused faces on a lot of the patrons. Lin felt bad. She enjoyed Huan’s art and she was proud of him, but it all seemed over her head. Apparently it was over everyone else’s, too.
Several metal sculptures sat in the middle of the room. In the very center was a big swirling contraption of all sorts of colors—something called Release and representative of the spirit portal opening in downtown. Lin watched it from her corner for awhile and noticed it made people smile. So the collection wasn’t an entire bust on the general public.
Huan sat on a bench, and despite being the artist, no one seemed to want to talk to him. He leaned on the back of the bench and had his arms crossed over his chest. He seemed lost in the smaller sculpture a few feet in front of him.
Lin grabbed two desserts off the tray of a passing waiter and wandered over. “Hungry?” she said, offering the little cake to him.
Huan took the cake and a bite from it without breaking his concentration on the sculpture.
Lin sat next to him. “Enjoying the show?” she asked.
“Something’s not right with this one,” he said to the air in front of him.
The sculpture was a set of three columns of varying heights and textures. One green and smooth. One gold and dented. One black and bumpy. They all had intricate wire designs wrapped up them.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“It’s not finished—I didn’t mean to put it in the show. I guess something got mixed up or Mom snuck it in.” He took another bite of the cake. “Thank you, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.” Lin looked at the sculpture a little harder—at least she pretended to. “What’s missing?”
Huan shrugged. “I don’t know—that’s why it’s not finished.”
Lin nodded like she understood. She took a bite of her little cake and tried not to get crumbs on her pants.
“They should be entwined,” he said. He sounded disappointed in his revelation. “Why didn’t I see that before?”
Lin tipped her head to the side, trying to imagine how the pillars would look laced together somehow—maybe more wire? “You’re the artist.”
Huan popped the rest of the cake in his mouth and sat up straight. “Do you get it?”
“Get what?”
“The pieces—do they speak to you?”
Lin bit her lip.
Huan sighed. “No one gets them.”
Lin stuffed cake in her mouth so she didn’t say something she’d regret.
“I don’t even think Mom does most of the time—I think she just sees I’m happy and says she loves them,” he said.
Lin found Su in the crowd again. She wore a huge grin. “I think she does love them,” Lin said. “Even if she doesn’t understand them completely.”
Huan nodded. “It’s just that—these are pieces of my soul. It’s disheartening to have people oogle them so mindlessly.”
Lin shoved the last of the cake in her mouth so she could think over her answer. She glanced through all the paintings and sculptures in the grand hallway. Betrayal caught her eye again, and this time she thought maybe it had something to do with his brother leaving their family. Somehow.
That was people’s reaction to Huan, mostly. Nice kid. Lots of talent. Pretty strange.
He used more syllables when he got frustrated.
“People will catch on,” she said. “It’s new and different—they like that sort of thing but they have to warm up to it, too, you know?”
“I suppose.” Huan folded his arms again. “I’ve never considered what other people thought before. It’s painful.”
“Don’t consider it too much,” she said. “If they don’t like it, that’s their loss.”
Huan nodded. “I really just want to fix this one right now.”
Lin smiled. “I’m pretty sure the artist can touch the art.”
He got up and walked around the sculpture a few times with his hand under his chin. In his walking, he knocked the title card off the base, and Lin reached down to scoop it up.
Matriarch.
She glanced back to the three columns. This one, she thought she understood.