Obelus (ONC 2020)

Chapter 2

Eli watched his sister speak to the group of aesthetes gathered around her exhibition.

Her dark hair was pinned back in a messy bun, and she wore an oversized, collared shirt and black leggings—a stark contrast to the world of wealth and propriety surrounding her.  She laughed at her own nerdy joke and tucked a loose curl behind the temple of her clear frame glasses.

Eli had always envied Brenna's courage. At 22, she'd escaped their family's corporative shadow and rebelled in the most prominent way she knew how: the creative arts.  She'd vanished for years, devastated by their father's death and insulted by their mother's absence.  But during her personal pilgrimage, she'd found her place in the freedom of expression, and Eli was glad to see her thriving in her element.

When the group paid their compliments to her pieces and shuffled on to the next artist, Brenna spotted him lurking in the corner.  Her whole face brightened. "E," she said affectionately, angling her head, "you made it."

He approached her, taking in her assorted paintings. He'd seen her art before, but her new projects were absolutely stunning. 

"Damn, Brenna." He bent closer to peer at the watercolor canyon—an intricate, layered piece with a thousand shades of brown. "You still using all natural paints?"

She nodded excitedly, visibly pleased that he remembered. "I used the pigments from the clay and soil at the base of the canyon." She pointed to the still life of rotten berries above them. "Used real fruit for that one as well. A bit of a mess, but it worked better than I expected."

He stepped back, awed and proud. "They're incredible. I knew you were talented, but this is insane." He looked her up and down skeptically. "You sure you're not adopted?"

She chuckled. "I appreciate the sentiment, E.  Though I'm not sure I have what it takes to win Best in Show."

"What? Why would you even say that? This is the shit."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You're completely biased, and I love you for that, but I'm up against some of the most renowned local artists in the area." She gazed at her own pieces again, releasing a loaded breath. "If the juror chooses me, I'll get a solo exhibition at the Summit Arts Center and a thousand dollar stipend.  The exposure that comes along with that is something I could only dream of."

She sighed longingly, and Eli frowned at her. "Dude.  Have you looked around at these pretentious assholes? You created your own pigments and drew the landscape you found them in. These guys spilled some ink on a canvas!  And one of them barely managed that."

Eli had stared at the seemingly blank canvas for nearly five minutes before he'd stepped away and caught the light's reflection on the glossy, translucent swirl down the center.  He felt personally offended by that piece.  

"You're way out of their league," he insisted.

Brenna hushed him, shaking her head in a way that reminded him too much of their mother. "Don't say that out loud!"

"I mean, I could do half of this stuff with my eyes closed." He gestured to a painting composed of three black dots and raised his brow. "Ellipses, 900 point font. Boom—I'm a renowned artist."

"It's about the utilization of space, dummy. It's a principle of art."

"What's that principle called?" he asked, nodding toward the scribble across the room. "Brain aneurysm?"

She smacked his arm, gaping at him in startled amusement and mock anger. "Hey! I didn't invite you here to bag on the other artists."

"Uh, you totally did." And he'd dressed up for it too.  Well, he'd worn clean pants and a button-down.  But it was definitely his best outfit, the one fit for Easter, job interviews, and funerals.