Infant Paintings

"Madam Albright, I want my child to be smart—best if it's a boy." A man with a beer belly sat politely across from Grandma.

She replied, her face devoid of emotions, "It's 100,000 dollars per request."

"Of course. That's understood. Don't worry, Madam Albright."

Grandma pulled a piece of paper toward herself after the man agreed to the deal.

…

Grandma and I only had each other. She would paint every day, though her paintings were mediocre, to say the least.

Her subjects were babies, and every one of them looked alike. It baffled me why the rich would spend a fortune to buy Grandma's paintings.

"It's done." Grandma set her brush on the table. I drew closer to take a look. As expected, it was yet another ugly painting.

"Bring her in." She rose and brought the painting into a room without turning on the lights.

The man hurried out and brought back a pretty young woman with him. He comforted her, "Hey, just go in."

The woman was clearly nervous. However, after being shoved by the man, she reluctantly followed Grandma into the dark room.

Usually, Grandma would chase me out of the room at this point. Being thoughtful, I ran out into the courtyard to play with our dog, Toffee.

All of a sudden, the woman's bloodcurdling scream cut through the air. It gave that man a good shock, but I was unfazed. Every woman who entered the dark room with Grandma would scream at some point.

Toffee was barking at the room. Since it wouldn't play with me, I could only entertain myself.

After my tenth round of playing hopscotch, the sounds from the room finally decreased. Once the woman stopped screaming, Toffee stopped barking, too.

Soon, the pretty young woman emerged from the room, sweaty but smiling. She nodded at the man waiting outside.

After that, they both expressed their thanks to Grandma. The man even tipped.

Once they left, I started pestering Grandma for mac and cheese for dinner. I was too young to notice Grandma bleeding from between her legs.

Ten years had since passed. Grandma continued selling her ugly baby paintings through the decade. Even if she increased the price by tenfold, many still lined up for her service.

However, she recently started to look for an apprentice, saying that she wanted to pass on her skills now that she was getting old.

I volunteered, "Grandma, I could learn painting from you!"

"No way!" Grandma adamantly refused to teach me her baby-painting skills, even though I was already an adult.

She'd always turn me down. "You can't paint! Just focus on your studies!"

Her rejection baffled me.

She said to me in her fifth time recruiting an apprentice within the month, "Sweetie, post the job opening again tomorrow."

She had kicked out every one of her apprentices after a few days.