Their Tale

Saint steps

Celeste had outdone herself. Being beside her as she shook hands and accepted compliments for the generous amount of art of display tonight, I know no other feeling that absolute praise for her. The days leading to the art event Angel and I took over the plan that could get Pierce off our back because Celeste deserves to do take in what was going to be her big break. This was not the night we saved what we created for ourselves, this was the night she would be seen for the greatness she created.

Critics, buyer's media and the public from all over came to see the work of Celeste Clarke, the newest breath through artist who would make headlines for years to come. For single moments as Angel and I took in the image of her standing in herself, controlling her image, narrative and life I can say for certain she had never looked more breath-taking.

Dressed in a white and gold accented suit she stood as power and grace, but what we knew that many others didn't was that there was more to this night.

Sudden chatter has Celeste, Angel and I turning to the door when the unknown guest of honour walks through the door. With the confidence of a man who owns the world Meadow walks into the room. Instantly I bring Celeste's hand into mine, Angel doing the same on his end, we knew it was time to make sure that this would end, but we also making sure that we wouldn't.

In a sharp black evening suit, he exuded money, power and influence as he targeted at us. He takes time in feeding his eyes off of the image of Celeste and I, this sick feeling of him undressing us with his eyes. Instantly Angel moves closer and manoeuvres Celeste to his side to that he stand in the centre. When he does look at Celeste it all makes sense to why he looked at her with a mixture of fear and general astonishment. What we knew explained that but I don't think he knew that. Yet.

When he is standing feet from us, he gives a greeting smile to Angel with his hand out to shake. Angel simply looks at it then back up at him with no intent of shaking his hand "Well that was rude. I was expecting to see you all with brighter smiles it is an amazing night for Miss Clarke tonight." Turning to her with a wondering eye he smiles "Congregations of your success dear."

"Thank you. This night is life changing to say the least." She responds in practiced politeness. Meadows is so drunk on his power over us he takes in the feeling of success looking at the paintings and sculptors around us "So Mr Macias I believe you have agreed on the terms of my agreement with you. I wouldn't want to see all of this work you lovely woman has done become a past thing. She really is talented. I mean so is Evita, but in something more erotic if I may."

I fight my need to simply knock him down as we walk through the gallery in efforts of not bringing tension build attention to us "Your deal is actually what has us here. It brought up a revelation, one I felt we would share before anything was signed." Confused by what he was hearing from Angel Pierce stops and turns to us "What do you mean?" Gesturing to walk further through the gallery Celeste begins to speak "My centre piece for the night." It's when we reach the far middle of the room, a large column holding up a painting of blacks, whites and brows and honey tones in the form of a girl's face looking up at the sky. Her gaze locked on a meteor shower as a tear runs down her softly painted brown skin.

The resemblance to the picture were uncanning on the painting and by the look on Meadows face Celeste did an amazing job on it. Meadows looked lost in it. Like he felt his breath leave his lungs if it meant it would bring the picture to life even if it was for a single second, he knew who it was "I call it Aretha." The name on its own brings him out of his enchanted trance when he looks at us "How do you know her, what is this?"

Suddenly the arrogance that he was striding with when he walked in quickly turned to panic. Letting Angels hand go with a comforting nod she walks closer to the astonished man. Both focused on the painting before them.

"A few days ago I found a picture that gave me more questions about my past than I ever had, so I took it and went to the place I was dropped of a few days after my birth. Saint Marys Church. There was a nun who remembered me because she found me on the steps, and so I showed her the picture and instantly she knew that the girl in the picture was the same one who dropped me at their door step."

Meadows is so drawn into the story, it was there that we all knew that what could have been a theory could actually be the truth and if it was, I don't know if we would still call it a victory.

"The sisters didn't know a lot, just that I was born in Pennsylvania and that according to my papers my mother's name was Aretha Clarke. So, I done all the searching I could do on an Aretha Clarke that gave birth anywhere the day I was born and to my shock a sixteen-year-old girl was rushed to hospital eight months pregnant. She named her child Celeste Clarke."

Pale of the snow that falls in winter Meadows when she looks back at us taking my hand in hers to help her through the revelation that took us back the night we found out "No, Aretha's child died." He demands, in hope that his words were as true as Celeste's were but, even he knew the truth. Just looking at the painting you knew that Celeste was her child, but it was not the fact that some sixteen-year-old had a child and gave them up, that happens all the time.

"No. You see after finding out about her something was still amiss so I looked for the Clarke family and instead I spoke to a lost friend of Aretha. She told me that when Aretha was fifteen, she started seeing this mystery man. She was so in love with this man but he would never let anyone see them together because he was older than her, almost fifteen years. So they loved in the shadows. No pictures, no public meetings and no one knew. That is until one day Aretha's friend met her mystery man. One thing changed that day, a person met him, and the only picture they had together was taken."

Gently taking her hand from me Celeste goes into her purse and pulls out the single piece of evidence to the sick life that Meadows lived. With his eyes focused on what she was pulling out Meadows takes the picture with unsupported hands, fear that it would burn him, but when he has his fingers between it, he closes his eyes "It can't be."

Wiping a single tear from her cheek Celeste looks at the man who stood next to her with pain and regret, but more than anything disgust "Aretha was seeing the man in that picture. She was seeing you, and days after Aretha's friend took that picture that she told her closest friend that she was pregnant with your baby. You're my father."