Highest Selling Piece

The tips of my fingers have grown raw from hours of painting. My art exhibit was three days away—and I… Well, I had procrastinated for months. Despite basically locking myself in my apartment away from all the wonderful delicious distractions New York had to offer, I was still short two paintings. My manager, Lacey, wanted twelve original pieces ready to sell to my small, but growing group of collectors. Had my younger self known I’d be living in my dream city, with my dream job, when I was only sketching in my notebook at one point, she’d be ecstatic.

I’d ditched the easel hours ago and had moved to lie belly-down in the living room, painting on the floor. I had the television to keep me company. The familiar voices of Rachel and Phoebe had turned into my only human interaction. Not that I.. communicated back.. but.. anyway.

The theme of this collection had shifted with the seasons. The first four paintings were done in the spring. I allowed myself to be inspired by the new blooms, changing smells and the warmth of the sun finally returning to the city. You could feel it through every paint stroke. I’d perfected mimicking the sun’s rays brushing across small patches of grass. Even began adding the micro-gnats that swarmed in sync with the bees.

When summer came, I continued drawing inspiration from my kitchen window. I basically turned into a hermit anytime I was working on a new collection. My friends no longer expected to hear from me until after the collection went live. I knew I’d see them opening night atleast.

On a particularly hot summer day, a little white kitten appeared in my painting. I’d observed the kitten feasting on a dropped ice cream cone, a small child in tears nearby watching as his treat was consumed by a hungry feline . I decided to paint that. The child’s back turned toward the viewer and the scrawny kitten devouring the overturned cone. I decided to name the little fellow and the painting ‘Vanilla’.

Since that day, the cat had become somewhat of a menace in it’s teen-hood . I often watched him steal bagels, pizza, and even drink the coffee of pedestrians unknowingly sitting on the bench in his territory. It was not a good idea to sit and enjoy a snack in Vanilla’s turf. He collected payment in terms of snatching the treat directly from your hands after enticing you to scratch his back.

I went back to the previous spring canvases and added him to those too. Small details a viewer would have to look for. I’d painted him napping on his favorite bench, chasing after the bees. Sometimes you’d only see the mess he left behind; empty cartons or discarded trash from the community bins.

Multiple residents from my building have attempted to lure him inside, but he was not interested in being domesticated. He was living large on the streets and from the look of his fat belly, he was doing well. I’d never had the opportunity to see him up close. Anytime I was forced to leave home for substance or other errands, he was long gone by the time I walked outside.

The piece I’ve been working on today was feeling a bit eerie. Fall had emerged, and with Halloween approaching, I was feeling a little spooky. I painted my city street at night. A chilly looking fog creeping along the asphalt. The lamp post complemented the orange leaves the trees were still holding onto. Vanilla was added lurking up the street. A bright contrast against the dark tones of the painting. I added a few little details, stickers on the benches, some half cleaned graffiti on a neighboring building when my phone began to ring. I braced for the slashing I was about to receive and answered.

“Amelia, please, for the love of baby Jesus, Are you done with your Exhibition?” Lacey’s voice was shrill.

“Yep.” I lied.

”So if I told you I was outside your building right now, ready to load them up you’d buzz me in?”

Shoot! I rushed over to my window, the same one I’d become very familiar with these past months. Sure enough, a foot tapping Lacey was looking up toward me. She didn’t allow me to respond before adding, “Let me in.”

Something I left out, my manager is my sister. It sounded like a great idea, due to the fact she was already managing a few other creative clients… That is until she shows up at my door step at seven at night demanding to come in.

I buzz her in. Bracing for her to chew me out when she views my almost complete portfolio.

The door jiggles, the old knob needing a little bit of force to work. She emerges, the image of beauty. Lacey is always well put together. Long curled auburn hair, red painted lips and a classy matching suit.

I however, look down at the plaid pajama pants. At some point I’d begun using them to wipe my brushes clean instead of my usual rag. My white T-shirt was stained with grease from Pizza I’d had for breakfast, lunch and dinner. My matching auburn hair was tossed into a bun that resembled a birds nest more than actual hair.

“Surprise?” I whisper pointing to the collection I was stacking against a window seal. With an assessing look, my sister marches toward the canvases. The tension in her shoulders eases as she flips through them.

”I love it. They make you feel good. Locals will love these. Tourist will want them as souvenirs.”

“Thank you.”

“However— you’re still short. Two days, Amelia. I swear, if you make me display art that has still not yet dried again. I’m going to fire you.” The sister tone had been replaced with my Manager’s. I fought to not roll my eyes.

“I’ll be done soon,” I drifted toward the canvas I had been working on, leaning it up so she could see I had another to add tonight, “and it’s actually three days. If you count today.”

“Semantics.” Her eyes roved my apartment. I suddenly was very aware of the amount of delivery pizza boxes I’d allowed to stack in my small kitchen. The trash was overflowing and there are tubes of scattered acrylic and paintbrushes sitting in miscellaneous cups of water, “It smells like grease and body odor in here.” Her nose crinkled.

Instinctively I raise my arm, giving my armpit a sniff. “Well it’s not me.”

”Wonderful.” Lacey moves to the window that leads to the fire escape, pushing it open. The fall air is refreshing. I’ve had the desire to walk through the park for days now, but hadn’t allowed myself the distraction.

When the collection went live, I could go about my personal life for a few weeks and catch up on living.

Lacey closely inspects every finished piece. It takes her an hour of silence to start suggesting pricing for what she sees. I’m delighted to hear it’s higher values than I anticipated.

I had three days booked in the art Gallery to sell my pieces. If they sold at these prices, I’d be comfortable for a while.

My sister was not going to allow her presence to distract me from working. So I decid to move my canvas and some paints to the kitchen table, in hopes she would stay to visit.

My trick works. Lacey brews herself a mug of coffee and begins sipping beside me as I add my final details.

From the open window, I hear a little commotion. My mind begins to race, assuming an art thief has climbed the fire escape and about to take off with his bounty. I jump from the table racing toward the drawer I keep a flash light in. Lacey’s face is set in a stern look, promising a fight if anyone dared to enter. My fingers fumble for the power button and I shine the alarmingly bright light at the window.

A big fuzzball of white comes barreling through the window. Too large for a bird, too small for a dog. The paws of the creature stumble through my array of paint colors, before it runs directly across my finished painting. Sloppy paw prints of gray and black ruin the painting.

“Vanilla!” I shriek when I recognize the little cat burglar diving into a pizza box.

“You have a cat?”, Lacey questions, clenching her chest in fear.

”No! He’s a stray!” I walk toward Vanilla, who bares his teeth at me with a big hiss.

“He is a girl.” Lacey corrects.

I take a step back, looking Vanilla over. Sure enough, Vanilla is a girl. Not only that, by the looks of her swollen belly and enlarged breast, Vanilla is pregnant. She was going to be having babies soon.

I make the decision quicker than I thought possible, lunging toward the open window and slamming it shut. Vanilla lunges at me. I flinch backward, “You’re going to be a sweet kitty...okay?”

My sister sinks her palms into her face, “That cat just ruined your painting, didn’t it?”

I smile. Ignoring that fact. I Sink down to the floor and grab some crust from a discarded pizza box, extending my hand toward the pregnant cat.

Vanilla’s pink nose flares taking in the greasy bread before she creeps toward me with her hackles raised.

She treats me like every other victim, exposing her back for a pet. I, however, have seen this trick many times. I put the treat behind my back, out of her reach. I pet her a few times before offering it to her. She’s skittish and not a fan of being inside from the look on her face.

“Look, I’ll let you back outside after you have your babies if that’s what you want. But, you need a vet and consistent food until then.” I lecture the feline. She gives me a unappreciative look.

”On that note, I’m going home.” My sister wasn’t a huge animal person in general. She was definitely not a Jump-through-your-window-feral-cat person. Lacey hugs the door to ensure Vanilla can’t escape.

I walk back to my painting, letting Vanilla snoop around the apartment. Her little feet had smeared a messy diagonal line across the painting. Miraculously, she hadn’t smeared herself in the picture. Vain little thing.

Vanilla was now hiding under my couch. I didn’t have the nerve to stick my hand under to retrieve her— So, I decide to leave her be and head out to the local pet store.

A pink fluffy bed, rhinestone collar, cat food, cat prenatal (yes, that is real), and matching bowls later—I return home. I slip my bags through the door careful not to let Vanilla escape. No ball of white comes charging for me, so I allow myself to let down my guard and begin setting her new things up.

I catch Vanilla out of the corner of my eye. She’s curled up on my couch, nestled in a throw blanket. She seems to be in deep sleep due to the fact the not even food being poured into her bowl wakes her.

Vanilla was going to be just fine being a house cat.

Two weeks later

The art show had passed. The collection was a huge hit with nearly every piece selling on opening night. I named the entire collection after the little white cat, “Vanilla”. The few pieces left behind sold the next day. However, Vanilla’s master piece had no takers. It was now framed and hung in my own living room. My favorite artwork I’ve done to date.

Vanilla had given birth to four kittens. Two white, like herself and two tuxedo kittens. I had found them all loving homes to go to once they were weaned to cat food and vaccinated. Lacey, against all odds fell in love with one of the tuxedo boy kittens and claimed him for herself, he was already named Winston.

Vanilla had an appointment with her new Vet to get spayed in a few weeks. She has settled nicely into her new home. Even though she still paws at the window to spend some time on the fire escape, she always comes back inside to care for her kittens. No longer is she stealing ice cream cones from children or eating from a dumpster. Vanilla now has her meal times memorized, and is never late when her automatic feeder drops.

She sleeps curled up to my feet in bed every night, purring herself to sleep. Despite me buying multiple different cat bed options for her to choose from, that is her preference. Add crazy cat lady to my resume, as I sleep with 4 kittens and a feral cat everynight. My next exhibition was 7 months away. I had some down time to enjoy at home before diving back into the deep end. Only now, I had Vanilla to keep me company while I painted.