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When she pauses, Will jumps in.
“All very interesting but I was hoping you’d talk about your discovery at twenty-one and how that’s influenced your career.”
The close-up camera switches to Catherine and the emotion on her face seems to vacillate between fear and rage. She doesn’t smile or begin to answer.
“Ms. Clay?” Will asks.
“I … I don’t want to talk about that, actually.”
“That’s fascinating since the art piece I believe you’re most well-known for isTwenty-one Paths, which is highly autobiographical.”
“Why would you assume that?” Catherine asks, shooting daggers from her eyes.
“No assumption. In one of the articles my research team found from your early days, you tell the story of how, at twenty-one years old, you found out that you were adopted and that your birth parents had left you a trust that had over one million dollars in it—one point two six million US dollars, to be exact. Is that not right? It’s rather a clunky title if it wasn’t meant to be autobiographical.”
What the fuck is Will doing? He’s railroading her. Without thinking, I start dialing the number at the bottom of the livestream. I have no idea what question I’ll ask if I’m put through, but I need to do something.
Catherine hadn’t told me that she was adopted or about the trust. I’m hurt that in all the stories we’ve shared she never mentioned that, but I’m more angry that Will thought it was okay to drop this bomb with an audience of hundreds of thousands of strangers.
“You know what, Will? Screw it. You want to ride on my media coattails? Fine. Jump on. Yes, it’s true. My parents never told me I was adopted, and probably never would have were it not for the trust. But there was no way to explain it other than with the truth. So yeah, at twenty-one I finally understood why I’d always felt like a raven, loud and confident, being raised by a family of sparrows who were always telling me to dial it back. It also explained why I was so much taller than everyone else in the family.
“Once it was said, it seemed so obvious I felt like a fool for never having questioned.”
Catherine is sitting forward in her chair, a posture that feels like she’s challenging Will to bring on more questions. Which he does.
“Must have been a nice birthday present.Surprise! You’re a millionaire.The story I read was from that year you turned twenty-one. I’d love to know how that infusion of cash helped you kickstart your career in a field where “starving” is the most common adjective used to describe its members.”
Catherine is shaking her head, her anger radiating like heat waves.
“Mr. Power, if you’d done as good a jobunderstandingthe articles you’ve read about me, you’d know that although I create public art and delight in sharing the messages of my pieces, that my personal life is not up for discussion. I’m sure you, as a public figure who also has a private life, can appreciate and respect that."
“But this is different,” Will challenges. “Your work is based in passion. And this topic, this experience from your formative years, is, I believe, at the heart of every successful art piece you’ve created. It’s one hundred percent relevant to a conversation meant to inspire and educate other entrepreneurial artists who aspire to have success like yours.”
Catherine throws her hands in the air. “Fine. You want to know where the inspiration comes from? You want to take credit for being the man who shared the secret that spurred a new wave of artists to create meaningful art? You got it!
“But this message isn’t for the artists listening. It’s for the people who’ve yet to have children. This is a generational process, not a decision a person makes on a Thursday morning watching a livestream or while they’re jogging, listening to a podcast.
“If you want to create a human whose passion drives them, start by lying to your child for their entire life. Big lies, small lies, all lies. Love them and lie to them. Treat them like family, then tell them, after they’re already an adult, that nothing they understand about themselves is true.
“Then, give them something that nobody else in the family—or in the community—has, to make it painfully clear that they’re different from everyone they’ve ever known. Make it something that’s coveted so where there was once love, now there’s resentment. Where there was once equality, now there are demands and expectations.
“But make sure you raised that child to know that her voice is important. And that her beliefs matter. And that her values are the hill to die on.
“So when her sister insists she deserves half the money, but the artist-in-the-making says she needs to think about this and leave it in the trust for now—and that sister deserts her—she stands fast in her decision.
“And when her boyfriend of less than a year intentionally gets her pregnant by poking holes in his own condoms, so that she’ll marry him, she walks away. Because she already knows a marriage to this man would never last and that she’d be legally obliged to give him half her wealth if they were to marry and divorce. So she becomes a single mom in college with a promise to herself to never trust again.
“And when—“
A voice from the phone against my ear interrupts Catherine’s. “The Will Power Hour. Do you have a question for Ms. Clay?”
“About a million of them,” I mumble.
14
CATHERINE
I’m shakingwhen I leave Will Power’s studio. I thought he was an ally. I thought that the Power family might be a rare exception to my experiences with the ultra-rich class who commission me to create custom art pieces, respect me for my talent, but still treat me as less-than, never knowing that my bank account balance is likely comparable to theirs.
