Random Book of Oneshots

All For Art

Mark is Riley's Dad 

Lola is his sister

Lauren is his mum

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Tonight's crescent moon shines brightly through Rileys' open window, sun-bleached curtains gently flowing as if waves on the ocean. Stars littered the night sky and Riley's off-white ceiling. Glow-in-the-dark stars still twinkle dimly, the glue used long ago fused to the paint. He can still remember the look of anger on his mums face when she first found out that he and his dad had stuck them down. Back then, Riley was still "Mark's little soldier" and still had time to play and get in trouble. Back when the results from last week's test didn't matter as long as you tried your best. Back when skipping a day of work on the farm wasn't the end of the world. Back when dreams could become a reality rather than a missed opportunity. A sigh escapes his lips as he pushes a sweaty hand into his hair, ruffling up the already messy mop.

"Am I really about to do this?" He mutters to himself before pushing himself up off the old bed, springs creaking as the weights lifts. A dusty photo takes his attention as he stands up. It was a picture of Lola and Riley covered head to toe in green and blue paint, wide grins plastered on their faces with a forgotten canvas sitting against the side of the shed. Mark can be seen in the background, head thrown back in a hearty laugh, the focus slightly off due to the camera operator laughing along. Riley smiles as he thinks back to that day. He was trying to paint a picture of the farm for Mark. Shaking his head, his smile fades as he hears a beer cap pop and Mark's stern voice from the kitchen. It's time to stop delaying the inevitable.

Riley takes a shaky breath before pushing open his bedroom door and trudging down the hallway, his steps get slower and slower until his at a standstill in the kitchen doorway. Mark's at the table, back turned to the doorway with a beer in his hand, grumbling away at the sweltering heat. Laura's in the kitchen cleaning the dishes from that night's dinner, humming in agreement when needed. Am I really about to do this? Riley questions himself, hesitation flickering across his face before a look of determination takes over. He takes a deep breath in before stepping into the kitchen.

"Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?" Riley manages to blurt out before running away in cowardice, again. Mark turns around in his seat looking at Riley's in question before replying.

"Sure my boy, take a seat." Mark responds, kicking out a chair with his foot. Riley gives a weak smile before moving to the chair, silence washing over the room like fog on the bay before Mark begins his rant on the scorching heat again.

"I'll tell ya', this time of year is the absolute worst. For us and the farm. I swear every time I go outside when the suns up, I come in as red as a tomato." Mark states, taking another swig of his beer before smacking his lips in satisfaction, the cold drink contrasting the warm air. "Say, when are you going to come outside and give a helping and to your old man instead of being cooped up in your room studying?" Riley shrugs his shoulders and huffs. Studying. That's what he calls it when Riley locks himself in his room to look for available art schools that are within their price range.

"Son?" Mark grunts pulling Riley back to reality. He looks back at his dad. This has been the man that had cared for Riley his whole life, taken him to school, pushed him to do his best, moulded who Riley was today. Riley quickly mutters a prayer under his breath for courage and hope that whatever happens, he will be alright.

"Dad, I don't want to work at the farm. I wanna go to art school." Riley blurts out before looking away from Mark, left hand around his right wrist, wringing it quickly out of nervousness. The room has once again been thrust into silence, even Lauren had stilled her hands from work from the surprise of what Riley had said. The farm has been in the family for years, passed down ownership from father to son, nothing stopping it from staying in the family bloodline. Until now that is.

"You what? You want to go to art school instead of working at the farm." Mark finally says, breaking the silence in the room, yet Riley can't tell if that's a good thing. Looking up, Riley meets Mark's eyes. They remind him of stones in a pond, funny how he compares the anger that lies in them to a calm pond. His face has turned red from anger and his grip on the beer bottle in his hand had tightened. Riley nods in response to Mark and quickly the beer bottle is slammed on the table, making Riley jump and a plate to drop in the sink.

"This farm has been in our family for generations, its a tradition to be passed down from father to son, and you want to break that just to go to some sissy art school? Your dreaming." Mark says, voice getting louder as the words leave his mouth. Anger flares through Riley like he's never felt. Not when he found out the real reason as to why Lola and Tony broke up. Not when a punch landed on his face when he got called a fag. No. This anger had not been felt before. This anger was raw and red, making Riley's eyesight blur and his fists clench.

"And why is that such a bad thing! Traditions are supposed to be broken that's what helps make new ones!" Riley fires back, a whirl in his stomach has started and he doesn't know when it's going to stop. Mark gets to his feet and slams his hands on the table.

"Damn it boy! You and your stupid art school fantasies, what would people think when they hear a bloke had gone to art school? Huh? Even more so a bloke who comes from a farm!" Mark shoots out, his face becoming redder and redder with each word. Fire spreads in Riley's veins when his dad goes on about what people would say, what they would think.

"Its the 21-century dad! People wouldn't bat an eye if they found out because times have changed from when you were younger, you just need to realise that!" Riley shouts, pushing the chair back when he stands up. Mark and Riley's eyes meet and its a stalemate. Anger pulses off the two and pushes the tension in the room from a 2 to a 10. "Its always been you and your bloody farm! Everything else comes at second priority!" Riley carries on, forcefully pointing his finger at Mark who is nearly shaking with anger. "Thi-this vision you think you have of the world now is not what it was back then. Times are changing dad and we need to change with it!" Riley's arms move animatedly as he speaks, pushing across the point to Mark who stands in silence taking in what Riley has said.

"I have been working on this farm since I was thirteen years old, this farm is my life and will be yours too!" A shaky breath is taken in by Mark before he starts speaking again. "I only want what's best for you. And if having this farm gives you a stable income and a way of life, then I will want you to have it!"

"But you don't know what's best for me! You don't know what I want and you're throwing what you want onto me! I want to go to art school, make my own path in the world, not stay trapped on this blasted farm!" Riley cries as unshed tears of anger fill his eyes. Riley collapses back in his seat, chest heaving from the shouting match and anger fizzling from his body. The only thing left inside him is the feeling of frustration and desperation. Mark takes a seat, the wooden chair groaning in protest of the sudden weight. Small steps come out from the kitchen as Lauren walks towards the table.

"This better be sorted out by tomorrow otherwise we are going to have a long chat. I'm going to go to bed, and I don't care how long it takes you, you are not coming to bed until this fight is resolved." Lauren mutters to Mark before giving him a kiss on the cheek. Walking over to Riley, she places her hand on his cheek and gives him a warm smile.

"I'll see you in the morning." Dropping her hand, she walks away and down the hall, the open and close of her bedroom door echos through the hall.

"Common dad. Don't you want to see me happy?" Riley questions, looking up at Mark like a kicked puppy, eyes still full of tears. Mark takes in Riley's state and sighs.

"It is true. I really do want what's best for you and makes you happy. So if going to some prestigious are school are what makes you happy then fine, you can go." Mark grumbles, running a hand down his face. He looks back at Riley, a smile has slowly taken over his face.

"Thank you, dad, thank you so much," Riley whispers weakly before jumping out of his seat and wrapping his arms around Mark, relief washing over him as had hugs Mark tighter. A small smile falls on Mark's face before a grin takes over.

"But you're first painting has to be of the farm."