I can’t believe it. My girl. An artist. She’s like me. Oh my gosh, I cannot believe she won. She is a reflection of me, after all. A winner. I stand up at my seat and clap. I know that’s not really allowed, but I’m so proud and surprised that I can’t help myself. I love my daughter. Betsy’s onstage now, so I should sit down. I look left and right, taking my bows in front of my adoring fans before sitting back down.

Angelica’s arm is around Betsy’s shoulders, sharing in her spotlight, the place where I should be. Betsy grins.

“Betsy, you don’t even know which of your paintings won this grand prize for you, do you? Ladies and gentlemen, Betsy Harris is a prolific and talented painter. She is the first student ever to earn a perfect five on the AP art subject test. We wanted you all to experience the caliber of her work.” Angelica nods and the curtain behind them opens.

Projected on a huge screen is Betsy’s winning painting. My hands are shaking and I’m having trouble catching my breath.

Angelica says, “Betsy’s painting titled The Hike is oil on canvas and depicts our spectacular Point Park nature preserve on a beautiful Southern California day. A young woman and her dog enjoying nature. It’s simply breathtaking.”

As the audience applauds, I gulp for air. How could she do this? Paint a picture of Mary’s last few moments? Beside me, David is biting his lip. He leans over. “Is that a painting of Mary? Of Mary and Cash on that day?”

“There’s something very wrong with Betsy. I’ve been trying to tell you this all along. She’s sick.” It’s as if she is confessing via canvas, surely I’m not the only one who thinks so.

The applause dies and the auditorium is silent as Betsy makes her way back to her seat. There is no one in this room who doesn’t know how Mary died.

Everyone is wondering if that is a painting depicting that day.

Angelica starts talking again. She’s always talking, justifying, equivocating. Annoying me. She says, “As Betsy makes her way to her seat, I want to thank her for her bravery this year. She’s been through a lot. Using art to express your emotions is the best way to heal. Some of us write our truths to understand ourselves better. Betsy paints them.” Angelica beams. “And with that, our ceremony is concluded. Parents and family members, please meet your graduate outside on the quad. Seniors, are you ready? You’re officially graduated! Enjoy the after-party! You’ve earned it!”

Graduation caps soar into the air as the graduating class celebrates. A cap falls into the aisle next to me with a thud.