Page 54 of Rivals
Chapter 35
Revna
Revnaseemstogosomewhere else. Her eyes glaze over to some faraway place, and I don’t think I can reach her. The win is a lot to process, and I’m utterly stunned. I look around the room as others mill around. We can’t pack up and go home yet. There are still patrons and potential buyers. We may be able to sell this, and then we will have some cash to work with.
One of the judges hands me a piece of paper with the rules and more information about Italy. I can’t believe we’re going to Italy. I don’t have the money for it, so let’s hope they recognize that we are all poor college students and give us some assistance.
I wouldn’t be here without her. I know I wouldn’t have stood a chance at this on my own, and I want to make this happen for her, for us. I slip the letter from the envelope to read it. Revna is still not here, and I’m a little worried that she’s high again or something else. I stare at her a little longer, and she takes a deep breath and nods to herself. “Are you ok?” I ask her.
She nods, digging her teeth into her already chapped lips, and looks at the paper in my hand. “What does it say?”
I take a minute and scan through it. My eyes land on ‘…housing and transportation provided. Meal plans and other incidentals are not. You will receive a discount for your plane ticket, but the remainder is the artists’ responsibility. Customs will not allow the transport of materials such as paint. As part of the rules for competing, all materials such as, paint brushes, cameras, lighting equipment, pottery tools, and software will be allowed.’
My heart sinks. I don’t know where we can get that kind of cash that fast. We don’t leave for another three months. By then, we will have graduated, and I’ll be able to work more, but I don’t know if that will bridge the gap while still paying the bills. “We’ll have to pay for a lot of it,” I say and explain what I read. Revna sinks into herself like she wishes she could disappear. I pull her into my arms for a tight hug. “We need this, Revna. I know you know that. We have a real shot here. We will figure it out.” She nods in my arms and takes a shaky breath.
We made it.We’re close, and our lives could be completely changed by the end of the year. I could even gain the respect my father refuses to give. A woman wearing a cocktail dress and diamonds dripping from her ears approaches the triptych.Money.I let go of Revna and gently turn her so we can greet the woman.
She smiles softly to acknowledge us and looks at our paintings. Revna glances at me over her shoulder and starts to fidget again. To give the woman a moment, I spin Revna back to face me, taking her hands in mine. “We did good, little bird. I have some ideas, but I don’t know if you’re going to like it,” I say quietly. I spare a glance at the woman who is studying the painting closely.
Please buy it.
“What does that mean?” Revna asks, her tone cold.
“When are you going to really trust me, little bird? I’ve got you,” I say, the corner of my mouth tipped up. She glares at me, and the woman clears her voice. Revna spins around to face her.
“This is a stunning piece. I can see why it placed. What was your inspiration for it?” she asks. I start to answer, but I look at Revna. She wants me to do the talking, but I think she should.
“Why don’t you tell her, Revna?” Her head spins so hard I wince. Her eyes are wide, and her chest rises and falls a little too quickly.
I nod and smile encouragingly. She glares at me and turns back to the woman, knowing I won’t say anything, forcing her to answer. “We had a few ideas in mind, but the majority of our inspiration came from the greats, Michelangelo, Gaulli, Carracci, Bernini, and Borromini. The frescos that were done during the High Renaissance and the architecture gave us the idea to make our own, but with a more modern take,” Revna says. The woman nods.
“It’s beautiful. I respect your nod to the greats. I haven’t seen something like this in a long time. Thank you both, you can expect a bid from me,” she says regally.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I say. All Revna can manage is to dip her head. The woman turns and walks away.
“See, if we can get the money from this, then we will be good.” Revna nods.
“That’s assuming it’s more than ten bucks.” I roll my eyes and squeeze her shoulder.
“I know it will go for more than that, Revna,” I say. It has to.
“I guess we will see,” she grumbles.
I know she’s worried. It feels like we were so close. This could be a setback, but it’s not. I won’t let it be. I will schedule myself for sessions every single day for the next three months if I have to. We will go to Italy and be that much closer to being in the MoMA. I have to have confidence for both of us right now, and I will make sure that Revna feels all of it.
I plan on asking her to break her lease or sublet her place. We will move her out and into mine. She could save on her rent and bills, which might be enough to get us there. Plus, I don’t know how much it will cost altogether. I take a deep breath, trying to keep myself from overthinking all of it. I will do what it takes to get there. She might not like it, but it’s what will happen. We’re going. It’s that simple.
The night finally comes to a close. Everyone has gathered towards the end of the room where the patrons and artists are listed. They are about to announce the winning bids of the pieces. They start with a few that didn’t place but were still purchased. Then, our names are announced. “The winning bid closed at fifteen thousand dollars.” My heart beats so hard it feels like a drum echoing in my chest. We’ll be ok. We can pay for Italy. “That’s everything. Thank you for coming, and a special thank you to our patrons and bidders. The amount will be collected at the end of the MoMA showing. If it is a winning artist, it will ensure transportation of the pieces.”
My bubble bursts, and I want to punch the wall as panic and anger surge through me. We can’t seem to catch a break. Revna and I are silent as we gather our things. The competition will collect and store the winning works for us to keep them safe.
Revna and I grab the subway, and she’s silent as the tunnel lights flash over her face. The whole car is quiet and smells like dirt and pee. I want to scream. I want to rage. We should be happy about this. We should be excited. Important people in the art world have noticed us, yet it doesn’t seem to matter.
Recognition has a twofold consequence. It ups the pressure for you to perform. Now, we are expected to outdo ourselves from this last triptych, and that feeling is heavy. I can only hope something will come to us. But there is always the chance the pressure will outweigh the creativity and crush it.
Recognition also gives you a spotlight, and it means people are watching. I spent most of my childhood being recognized because of who my family is. I don’t live on the Upper East Side anymore, and I’ve faded into obscurity, I’m sure, which is fine because I never liked it. It sent me into spiraling depression. It’s hard to figure yourself out as a teen while others decide that you need to know their opinion of how you should live your life and why.
It’s not something I want to go back to, but it may be inevitable. I’ve seen other artists hit it big at a well-known gallery or through social media. It’s incredible that they sell all the art that was stacking up. But then, when it’s time to create something new, they get stuck. Then they fade into obscurity, yet again. Or they end it, unable to win the fight against the beast that roars in us.
