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But as the dawn breaks, reality crashes down upon me.
My only thought is how to avoid Scott
and pretend the night never happened.
Easy enough, right?
That's what I thought too, until four weeks later,
when two pale pink lines appear on the pregnancy test.
***
1
Poppy
The smell of fresh paint fills my nostrils as I carefully apply the final brushstroke to one of my newest pieces. With a sigh of satisfaction, I take a step back and admire my handiwork. The vibrant colors dance across the canvas, forming abstract shapes that tell a story only the viewer can interpret. That's the beauty of art – it brings people together while simultaneously challenging their minds.
"Poppy, you've outdone yourself this time," Nora exclaims, her petite frame skipping over to me with an infectious energy that makes me grin. "This show is going to be amazing."
"Thanks, Nora," I reply, wiping paint from my hands onto the well-worn apron tied around my waist. "I just hope everyone else thinks so too."
As we walk through the gallery space, I feel a swell of pride. My fellow community artists have come together like never before to create something truly special yet again. We're not just here to sell our art; we want to inspire others and make it accessible for everyone.
Our tight-knit group bustles around, adjusting lights and hanging paintings. It's a lively scene, full of laughter and camaraderie. As I take in the sight, I can't help but think that this is what art should be about – not elitist collectors flaunting their wealth but genuine connections and shared experiences.
"Hey Poppy, can you give me a hand with this?" calls out Jake, one of our sculptors, struggling to lift his massive creation onto its pedestal.
"Of course!" I rush over, eager to help. Together, we manage to hoist the sculpture into place. As we step back to survey our handiwork, Jake grins at me. "Thanks, Pops."
"Anytime, Jake. That's what I'm here for," I smile back, feeling a sense of accomplishment as I glance around the busy gallery to see if anyone else needs my help. We may not have deep pockets or fancy connections, but we've got each other's backs – and that's worth more than any price tag.
"Alright, team!" Nora claps her hands together, catching everyone's attention. "Let's finish up these final touches, and then we can all part ways and get ready for the big night."
As the group scatters to finish setting everything up, I take one last look at my paintings. A warm feeling of anticipation fills me – tonight, our little artist community will shine like never before.
Exhausted from the day's work, I trudge back to my cozy boho apartment, ready for a hot shower and a change of clothes before the big event. As I unlock the door, though, I'm greeted by a familiar, earthy scent of patchouli that can only mean one thing – my parents have arrived.
"Surprise!" they chime in unison as I step inside, my mom, with her flowing skirt and colorful scarves, and my dad, wearing his signature tie-dye shirt and sandals. They're standing in my living room, arms wide open, their faces shining with excitement.
"Mom, Dad!" I exclaim, dropping my bag and embracing them. "What are you doing here?"
"We thought we'd pop in and check out your show tonight, sweetie," Mom explains, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. "You know we'll gladly come into the city for any excuse to see you and your work."
"And we brought some of our famous vegan brownies for everyone to enjoy!" Dad chimes in, brandishing a Tupperware container filled with the gooey treats.
"Thanks, guys," I say, touched by their support but also a little overwhelmed. "Uh, but Dad.... They're not your special brownies, are they? Because this isn't really that kind of thing..."
"No! These brownies are square as they can be!" he laughs, but then his smile quickly fades. He stares at the container in his hands with a puzzled expression. "At least I think these are the plain ones. Unless I got the two mixed up..."
"Right, okay," I smile tightly. "I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that."
My upbringing in a hippie commune instilled in me a strong sense of community and the belief that art is a sacred expression of human emotion, values that have shaped my entire life. But sometimes, my parents' free-spirited ways can be a bit much.
"Alright, let's get you two settled in, and then I need to get ready for the show," I say, ushering them into my living room.
Later, at the gallery, Nora and my parents stand by my side as we take in the vibrant scene. Artists and guests mingle, discussing the various works on display. The atmosphere is electric, and I feel a swell of pride for what we've accomplished.
