Andrea appeared in the doorway. “Nova, your artist talk starts in ten minutes. Do you need a moment?”
“Yes,” I said, before Elaine could answer. “We all do.”
***
Outside, cold air hit my face, and I could finally breathe.
Nova stood beside the wall, hugging herself.
I turned to Patrick. “Did you let Elaine box up Lily’s things?”
His mouth opened, then closed.
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” he said. “I thought it would help everyone move on.”
“No. It helped you stop feeling guilty.”
I could finally breathe.
Advertisement
Nova pulled a folded paper from her dress pocket.
“I kept this.”
Elaine went pale. “Nova.”
“Let her speak,” I said.
Nova handed it to me.
There was pink marker on the paper and crooked stars in the corners.
“Supernova, come to my birthday or I’ll be offended forever. Love, Lily.”
My hands shook. “This was Lily’s last birthday.”
Nova nodded. “I never came.”
“I’ll be offended forever.”
Advertisement
I remembered Lily waiting by the window with a paper crown.
“Maybe Nova’s busy,” I’d said.
Lily had shrugged too hard. “It’s fine.”
It hadn’t been fine.
I looked at Elaine. “You hid this?”
Elaine’s voice stayed thin. “Nova and I had plans.”
“No, I didn’t,” Nova said. “You told me Lily didn’t really want me there.”
Patrick turned. “You told me Tanya changed the date.”
“You hid this?”
Advertisement
Elaine looked cornered. “The girls were too attached. Every time Lily came over, Nova forgot where she belonged. And Patrick forgot that Nova was his stepdaughter.”
Nova stepped back.
I moved beside her. “She belonged with people who loved her.”
The side door opened. Andrea leaned out. “Nova? We’re announcing you now.”
Nova wiped her face.
Elaine said, “You don’t have to do this.”
“The girls were too attached.”
Advertisement
Nova looked at the invitation in my hand.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
Elaine turned sharply. “You are not speaking tonight.”
Nova looked at me, then at Patrick. Her hands shook, but her chin lifted.
“Yes, I am.”
We walked back into the gallery as Andrea stepped to the front.
“Our next artist is Nova,” she said carefully.
Nova stood beside the painting. Elaine stayed near the wall, stiff with anger. Patrick stood beside me, pale and silent. Tracy squeezed my hand.
“Our next artist is Nova.”
Advertisement
Nova faced the room.
“My painting is called Self-Portrait,” she began. “I know it doesn’t look like me at all. Lily was my stepsister. She died three years ago.”
The gallery went quiet.
“People told me to be myself again after she died,” Nova said. “But Lily was part of who I was. She called me Supernova when I felt small. She made me brave before I knew how to be.”
Elaine whispered, “Nova, stop.”
Andrea stepped in front of her. “Let her finish.”
“She died three years ago.”
Advertisement
Nova wiped her face. “Some people wanted me to stop saying Lily’s name because it made them uncomfortable. But grief isn’t bad manners. I painted her because loving her changed me. Losing her changed me too. This is the part of me named Lily.”
Elaine moved like she might pull Nova away, but Andrea raised a hand.
“No,” Andrea said calmly. “Nova told us what this piece means. The title stays with her.”
Elaine looked around, waiting for someone to rescue her from the silence.
No one did.
Then the room started clapping.
“I painted her because loving her changed me.”
Advertisement
Nova broke then, and I went to her.
“May I?”
She nodded, and I hugged her.
“I’m sorry I missed her party,” she sobbed.
“You were a child,” I whispered. “The adults were supposed to be braver and smarter. And kinder.”
Patrick’s voice cracked behind me. “I let Elaine make Lily smaller because I was too much of a coward to argue in my own house.”
Nova broke then.
Advertisement
“Yes,” I said. “So start fixing what can still be fixed.”
That night, Andrea changed the label to “The Part of Me Named Lily: Nova, 15.”
***
A week later, Patrick brought Lily’s boxes over. There were drawings, photos, and a bracelet with L + N in tiny beads.
Nova touched one photo. “She laughed right after this.”
“What happened?”
“I slipped in mud.”
“Lily laughed?”
“Then she fell on purpose so I wouldn’t feel dumb.”
“She laughed right after this.”
Advertisement
I smiled through tears. “That sounds like her.”
***
The following Sunday, I took Nova to Lily’s grave.
“I’m scared I’ll forget her voice,” Nova said.
“Then I’ll tell you stories until neither of us forgets.”
“Can I tell you mine too?”
I nodded.
I’d walked into that gallery thinking someone had stolen my daughter’s face. Instead, I found the girl who had been carrying Lily’s name in silence.
“That sounds like her.”
Leave a Comment