Mr.Brightside

Chapter 34

 Clara's Decision

The days after Olivia's first day of preschool felt like a whirlwind. She adjusted so quickly to her new routine, bounding out of bed each morning with an infectious energy that made our mornings a little brighter. Watching her grow, make friends, and blossom into her own person was a joy, but it also made me reflect on the changes happening within myself.

My art was becoming more than just a hobby. I had started painting regularly, dedicating a few evenings each week to immerse myself in the quiet, focused world of colors and canvases. Jack had been incredible, picking up more of the slack at home to give me the space I needed. Yet, even with his support, a nagging feeling had been growing in my chest.

I needed to make a decision about where this was all going.

The Call

It started with an unexpected phone call from Lily, my old college roommate. She worked at an art gallery downtown and had been following my small but steady stream of Instagram posts where I'd been sharing my work.

"You've been hiding this talent for years, Clara," she'd said, her voice excited and insistent. "We're doing a showcase next month, and I want your paintings in it."

At first, I'd laughed. The idea seemed ludicrous. I was just getting back into painting; my work wasn't anywhere near ready to be shown in a gallery.

But Lily had persisted, laying out how the showcase would feature a range of emerging artists, many of whom were in similar stages of rediscovering or building their artistic voices. It wasn't about perfection, she'd explained—it was about the journey.

"You're ready for this," she said before hanging up. "You just don't realize it yet."

I sat with that thought for days, unable to shake it. Jack had been supportive when I mentioned it to him, but I could tell he was waiting for me to make the decision. This was my thing, after all. He wasn't going to push me one way or the other.

But what if I wasn't ready? What if I made a fool of myself?

A Quiet Moment with Jack

It was a chilly Saturday morning when I finally brought it up again, sitting with Jack in the backyard, wrapped in a blanket as Olivia played on the grass nearby.

"I've been thinking about the gallery showcase," I said, staring out at the garden. "Lily thinks I should do it, but I'm not sure."

Jack sipped his coffee, his eyes steady as he looked at me. "What's stopping you?"

I took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "I guess I'm scared. Scared that I'm not good enough, that it's too soon. I've only just started painting again, and this... it feels like too much, too fast."

He set his mug down and turned to face me fully, his hand reaching for mine. "You've been painting for months, Clara. You've poured your heart into it. I see the way your face lights up every time you finish a piece. Why not share that with the world?"

I smiled, grateful for his unwavering belief in me. "What if no one likes it?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "It's not about that. Art is subjective. Some people will love it, some won't. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that it's yours, and you're proud of it. You're ready for this, Clara. And if you decide to do it, I'll be there every step of the way."

His words settled something in me. I realized that the fear I was holding onto wasn't about whether or not I was ready—it was about stepping into a version of myself that I hadn't fully embraced yet. I wasn't just Clara, the teacher, or Clara, the mom. I was Clara, the artist.

The Decision

Later that day, as I stood in my studio, staring at the half-finished painting on my easel, I made the decision. I wasn't going to let fear hold me back any longer. I would do the showcase, not for anyone else's approval, but for myself.

I called Lily that evening, my heart racing as the words spilled out. "I'm in," I said before I could change my mind. "I'll be in the showcase."

Lily's squeal of excitement on the other end of the line made me laugh, but there was also a feeling of lightness that came with saying yes. I had taken the first step, and that felt like a victory in itself.

Preparing for the Showcase

The following weeks were a blur of preparation. I spent every free moment in the studio, finishing pieces, refining my work, and pushing myself creatively in ways I hadn't before. Jack was my constant cheerleader, helping out with Olivia even more so I could focus, bringing me snacks and tea when I'd lose track of time, and always offering encouragement when I hit a creative block.

I decided to create a series of paintings that reflected different stages of motherhood and personal growth, inspired by my own journey. The colors were bold, the textures raw and expressive. It was a reflection of how I had felt in those early days of motherhood—exhausted but exhilarated, full of love but unsure of who I was becoming.

It was cathartic to pour those emotions onto the canvas, and as each piece came to life, I felt a little more confident in what I was creating.

The Night of the Showcase

The night of the showcase arrived faster than I had anticipated. The gallery was buzzing with activity as artists set up their displays, and I could feel the nerves creeping in as we entered the building.

Jack held my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as we walked through the doors. Olivia, who was too young to really understand what was happening, clung to my other hand, her eyes wide as she took in the vibrant artwork surrounding us.

Lily greeted us with a hug, her excitement contagious. "Your work looks amazing, Clara," she whispered as she led us to my section of the gallery. "You're going to blow people away."

I smiled, trying to swallow the lump of anxiety lodged in my throat. My paintings were up on the wall, carefully arranged in the order I had chosen. Seeing them displayed like that, in a professional space, made it all feel real in a way that it hadn't before.

People started to trickle in, slowly making their way around the gallery, and I could feel my heart racing. But as I stood there, watching strangers stop in front of my work, lingering for longer than a few seconds, something shifted.

They weren't just looking at my paintings—they were connecting with them.

A woman approached me, her eyes warm and kind. "Your work is beautiful," she said softly. "It's so... emotional. I can feel the story behind each piece."

I blinked, surprised by how deeply her words affected me. "Thank you," I managed to say, feeling a swell of pride I hadn't expected.

For the first time, I believed it.

A New Beginning

As the night wore on, the nerves faded, replaced by a quiet confidence I hadn't felt in a long time. Jack stayed by my side the entire evening, his presence grounding me, while Olivia dozed off in his arms.

By the time we left the gallery, I felt lighter than I had in years. I had done it. I had faced my fears, put myself out there, and taken a huge step toward embracing the person I wanted to become.

And as we drove home, the night quiet and peaceful around us, I realized that this was just the beginning. There would be more paintings, more showcases, more opportunities to explore who I was beyond the roles I had settled into.

And I couldn't wait for what was next.

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1285 words