1

It was a bad place to fall in love.

On the property called Hidden Beach, a wooden castle stood on a monstrous cliff. It was a place of

barbecues, sunblock, acoustic guitars, and midnight swims.

Oil paint, intrusive briars. Hungry dogs.

Drawings on skin, terrible lies, and

long afternoons at the edge of the sea.

The three boys who lived in the castle followed strange rules, fended for themselves, and became the whole world to each other, keeping their secrets locked in a tower. They were prisoners in an endless idyll.

There was something rotten there, like a bowl of beautiful berries gone putrid in the heat.

I was eighteen, a cold cup of tea, unwanted.

I had an arsenal of weapons.

I was the bringer of madness.

When he first began building the castle on the cliff, my father’s friends traveled to see him. People slept in half-­constructed towers and outbuildings. They even slept in tents on the lawn. They cooked clams in bonfires on the beach and threw themselves into the ocean waves on hungover mornings. The idea was that they’d live apart from the rest of the world, free of obligations and conventional beliefs.

Some of those friends didn’t leave for years. They took up lives in the towers and the pool house. They played guitar, wrote poetry, took photographs, and wove tapestries. They took drugs and raised children.

And they modeled for my father. He spent his days with paintbrush in hand, capturing the faces and bodies of his friends, the frenzy of the sea at his feet.

That’s all over now.

2

My name is Matilda Avalon Klein. I am the only child of Isadora Hirschel Klein.

My mother escaped her parents pretty young. They told her she was worthless and she disagreed. She spoke to them as little as possible when they were alive. It was better to keep away, and now they’re gone.

She and I have always been a family of two.

If I asked about a dad, Isadora told me we were better off without him and left it at that. The details never seemed important.

Then, midway through the summer after I graduated high school, my father introduces himself by email:

Matilda,

This is Kingsley Cello. I am an artist. I am your father.

I know I have never been in your life, but I’d like to change that.

There is a painting I want to give you. Please come see me at Hidden Beach for a visit.

I never even knew my father’s name until today. And maybe I should hate this guy Kingsley for never being around, for whatever he did to Isadora. But instead, his stilted note makes the world begin to hum.

Think of it like: You unlock a secret level you never even imagined was in a game. It’s an invitation to go in an unexpected direction. Today, I am invited to a hidden beach. Waiting there for me is the father I never thought I’d meet.

When I search for him online, I realize the level I’ve unlocked is massive. Kingsley Cello is just about as famous as a living painter gets. There are hundreds of hits: articles in fancy-­sounding art magazines and reviews of solo exhibits at major museums.

Here are questions the search engine pops up when I look for his name:

What is Kingsley Cello best known for? Controversial neoclassical paintings. (I have no clue what that even means.)

What is important about Kingsley Cello? The artist’s dark vision and fairy tale interpretations have influenced many other artists.

What was the scandal about Kingsley Cello? In his 2012 Whitney Museum show, Cello’s extremely violent painting, Prince of Denmark, enraged critics.

Where does Kingsley Cello live? The reclusive artist does not disclose his place of residence.

I search dollar value of Kingsley Cello paintings.

They average two million dollars.