The Artist - Mother

part 6

He moved a candle.

It just didn't look right.

He stepped back, closed his eyes, opened them up and took another look.

And moved the candle again.

He stepped a bit futher back.

Closed his eyes, opened them up and took another look.

No.

This wasn't RIGHT!

He was getting frustrated.

This was the most important pice in his life!

EVERY SINGLE DETAIL had to be perfect!

He walked around.

Taking in the scean.

What was he missing?

What was wrong?

Why didn't this just GRAB him as much as it should?

He remember his mothers words

-If a piecs doesn't grab you, then why should it grab  your audience?

Yes why?

He wished she was here.

This piece was for her.

It came to him as an unbelievable coincidence.

A hospital had requested some artwork for a few of their waiting rooms.

He was actually sitting in one of them, trying to get a feeling for what would not only fit the space but also give the patients something to look at and maybe take away a bit of that nervous feeling you always get when you are waiting for the doctor.

The woman look absolutely nothing like his mother.

His mother had been kind, caring, loving, supportive and protecting like a mother should.

This sorry excuse for a "Woman" was nothing like that.

Her big belly wasn't a source of joy and love, rather an inconvenience, a problem to get rid of. He could hear some of the conversation since she was angry and upset and almost screaming.

There was apparently something wrong with her baby.

But instead of being destroyed of this horrible news she just screamed at them to fix the damn thing so she could sell it.

Who would want to buy a broken baby?

The nurse tried to explain that there was nothing they could do, that this was the unfortunate reality of her drug use and neglecting her pregnancy.

-ARE YOU REALLY BLAMING YOUR INCOMPITENCE ON ME!!!!!! I am loosing my BABY (she almost spat the word out) and you are blaming me?!?!?

-We have so many times tried to help you and tried to explain that  your living situation could damage the baby. We tried to help you.

-No you didn't, you are just trying to cover your ASS. Who would believe in a person like me? Isn't that what you are thinking? ISN'T IT?!?!?

-Madam, I'll assure you..

-WELL I'LL ASSURE YOU! I Have Someone listening to me. And we will sue this whole damn hopital!

And so the conversataion had continued.

He had to bit his lip so hard that he could taste his own blood.

How could she be so cold hearted?

How could she not care about the life that was or had been growing in her belly? Her protecive womb?

He was outraged.

After his meeting he went after the woman.

She was easy to find.

Sitting in the nearest bar sharing her "tragic" story to anyone that would listen and by her a drink.

He waited until she came out.

He walked around the room.

Still couldn't get his fingers on what was missing.

The woman sat on the floor, her back leaning on a headboard of carved wood. It was lovingly decorated with all sorts of flowers and sleeping animals.

Here legs was spread out and her belly was cut open and spread out like it was made from papier-maché.

First he wanted to have a single candle burning inside but that was just not enough room to make that look as inviting as he wanted, so he settled for a led Lightloop.

He wanted it to looks as the womb was still a safe haven for the child to crawl back into for safety and love.

He scoffed.

Love and safety from this horrible woman?

He had to remind himself that this wasn't about her, this was about his own mother and the baby.

They deserved his love and attention.

He had carefully wrapped the baby in the finest linnen he could find.

He rested (yes, it was a boy) on a bed of roses from his own garden.

First he wanted to have the umbilical cord still attatched but that hadn't worked as well as he would like so instead he had replaced it with a chain made of silver.

He adjusted the chain just so.

And now it was finnished.

He remembered his mothers dying words.

-Remember I'll always Love you. You will always be my finest work of art.

And then she smiled as she died, still protecting him with her body.

He would call this..... Mother

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