A Fragile Illusion

Chapter four: Dreams Unvieled

Ava shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the phone pressed to her ear. Her mom was still chatting about Thanksgiving plans and her dad's latest DIY project, but Ava's mind was miles away. The conversation she was about to have hung over her like a weight. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"Mom," Ava interrupted gently. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

Her mother paused, her tone instantly shifting to one of concern. "What's wrong, sweetheart? You sound nervous."

Ava bit her lip, her heart pounding. "I'm not nervous, I just... I've been thinking about what I want to do after graduation, and it's different from what you and Dad might expect."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and Ava could picture her mom sitting at the kitchen table, probably frowning as she processed the words.

"Different how?" her mom asked, her voice cautious.

Ava closed her eyes and let it out in one breath. "I don't think I want to work in publishing after all. I've been doing some soul-searching, and what I really want is to pursue art. I want to run my own art gallery someday, and maybe even work on my own paintings."

Her mom's reaction wasn't immediate. When she spoke again, her voice was calm, but there was a hint of confusion. "Art? But you've always been so focused on your English degree and writing. Where did this come from?"

Ava sighed, running a hand through her hair. This was the hard part, explaining something that had been growing inside her for years but had never been fully acknowledged—until now.

"It's something I've always loved, but I've been afraid to admit it," Ava confessed. "I've spent so much time following the path I thought I should take—getting good grades, working toward a stable career. But every time I think about my future, I don't see myself sitting behind a desk editing manuscripts. I see myself working with art—my own and other people's. Running a gallery where I can showcase the kind of work that inspires me. And maybe someday producing my own paintings in a way that's meaningful."

Her mom was quiet again, and Ava could hear the soft hum of their kitchen appliances in the background. The silence felt like an eternity, and Ava's pulse quickened, anticipating the worst.

Finally, her mom spoke, her voice softer now. "Ava, I had no idea you felt this way. Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"I wasn't sure," Ava admitted. "I didn't want to disappoint you and Dad. I know how much you've invested in my education, and I know you've always seen me going down a certain path. But this—art—this is what makes me feel alive. I think I've known that for a long time, I just didn't have the courage to say it out loud until now."

Her mom let out a long breath. "Sweetheart, you could never disappoint us. You've always been so responsible, so focused, and we've always trusted your judgment. It's just... well, art is unpredictable. It's not as stable as something like publishing."

Ava nodded, even though her mom couldn't see her. "I know. And that's part of why I'm so scared. But I've also been thinking... if I don't take this leap now, I'm afraid I'll regret it. I've been dabbling in painting for a while now—just small things, here and there. And every time I lose myself in it, I feel more like myself than I ever have in any classroom or internship."

Her mom's tone softened even more. "So, you want to paint?"

"Eventually, yes," Ava said, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke. "But it's more than that. I want to open an art gallery, a space where I can bring together artists whose work resonates with people. I want to curate exhibitions that move people, that make them think and feel. Veridian—I've always been drawn to that style. The deep greens, the blending of light and shadow, the way those paintings almost seem alive."

"Veridian?" her mom asked, her curiosity piqued.

Ava smiled, leaning back in her chair as she explained. "Yeah, it's a style of painting I've always loved. It focuses on using shades of green to evoke emotion, usually paired with natural imagery. It's vibrant but also deep, almost mysterious. I've been studying it for a while, and I've even started experimenting with it myself. The dream is to create my own series one day, to produce some of the best paintings in that style. I want to push the boundaries, explore the tension between nature and emotion, and maybe—just maybe—have my work displayed in my own gallery."

Her mom was quiet for a long moment, and Ava braced herself for what might come next. But when her mom spoke again, there was a warmth in her voice that Ava hadn't expected.

"You've thought this through," she said, more as a statement than a question.

"I have," Ava replied, her voice steady. "I know it's not what you expected, but it's what feels right to me. I want to take this year after graduation to figure it all out—travel, find inspiration, connect with artists, maybe even work at some galleries. I just need to take the time to figure out how to make it work."

Her mom sighed, but it was a gentle sound. "Ava, your father and I will always support you, no matter what. I'll be honest, this is going to take some getting used to. We've always pictured you doing something a little more... conventional. But hearing you talk about it, I can tell how much this means to you."

Ava felt a rush of relief wash over her. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear those words.

"I love you, Mom," Ava said quietly.

"I love you too, honey," her mom replied. "Just promise me you'll be careful. Art is a tough world, but if anyone can make it work, it's you. You've always had such drive, such passion. I know you'll find your way."

Ava smiled, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. "Thanks, Mom. That means everything."

When they hung up, Ava sat in the silence of the apartment for a moment, feeling lighter than she had in months. The conversation had gone better than she could have hoped. For the first time, the dream that had been bubbling inside her for years no longer felt like a secret she had to hide. It was real, out in the open, and she was finally ready to pursue it.

Clara burst through the door a moment later, her cheeks flushed from the cool evening air. She dropped her bag by the door and looked at Ava expectantly. "Well? How'd it go?"

Ava smiled, wiping the corner of her eye. "They're on board. I mean, they're a little shocked, but they support me."

Clara let out a whoop and flung her arms around Ava. "That's amazing! I knew they would get it eventually."

Ava hugged her back, feeling the excitement swell inside her once more. Her dreams—of running a gallery, of creating her own masterpieces in Veridian—no longer felt impossible. They felt within reach.