Color My World

by Laura Westbrook

  They could now see over most of the trees. She gripped the handles on either side of her harness, which didn’t do anything. If it snapped open midway down, holding onto the handles of a failed harness wouldn’t help her much. It would just mean she’d flip around a few times before meeting the ground.

  Still, she couldn’t deny the view was nice, if she saw it under different circumstances. Aside from the fair, it was green as far as she could see. The beginning of a sunset was just starting, and orange and magenta colors tinged the horizon. The people walking around looked like floating heads the size of ants.

  Maybe this is what he wanted me to see. There was no end in sight. Paths took you in a variety of directions, but they came back together, or would, off in the horizon or beyond. There were places where you could definitely say a new beginning happened, but you couldn’t say with any certainty where the end really occurred. Everything was alive and changing, flowing, endless and seamless. She looked back at Hank, but his gaze was out on the horizon too.

  Then he looked her way. For a moment, a cloud of concern drifted across his brown eyes, and she smiled. She really was okay. Everything would be fine. Even if this ride came to a quick jolt, it didn’t mean anything was over.

  The Cassie who had always been fiercely independent, happy to travel the world and move towns on a whim to start a whole new life was changing. And she wasn’t the Cassie who worked hard to prove herself and make her own way in the world. This was a different Cassie, one that knew she didn’t have to have everything together right now, in this moment. She could take life as it came and be patient. She could care about the people around her and open up her heart, knowing she mattered to those in her life. Even falling wouldn’t hurt so badly anymore, because she wouldn’t stay down when it happened.

  Hank nodded toward the ground. For a moment, she wondered if he meant the ride was about to drop, but she didn’t know how he’d know that. They had been suspended in the air for a while. Had he been on this ride that many times?

  And then, it dropped.

  Chapter Six

  When Cassie arrived home after her almost-date, she felt like everything was perfect, or as close as it could be. She knew her whole relationship with Hank might be built on nothing but her art. Still, it felt so good, so real, that she was willing to ignore the details and just focus on what was going right.

  Like how she finally had Hank’s phone number—he’d given it to her when they had worked out more of the details for the commissioned painting. He’d also complimented her concept drawing, making a few comments of his own about the placement of windows and how many there were. He’d offered her a cash deposit, which she couldn’t turn down.

  She felt like she was finally doing things right. By the book, slowly and carefully. Hanna would be so happy—she could just picture her friend’s smile. Her thoughts went back to her time at the fair. After the drop tower, he’d held her hand all the way back to the car. It was hard to convince herself it was business only after that.

  It had been a very long time since she’d felt hopeful about a relationship. A long time since she’d experienced any kind of romance, in fact. Hank was different, and she thought they had something amazing together. At least, she hoped they did. There was a chance that he was just flirting with her, but his hand against hers and the way he looked at her felt like more.

  Feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush, right down to the “he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not” feelings, she unlocked the door to her house and walked in. No ants in the walkway, which was a welcome sight. Maybe the traps had finally caught them all. She made her way to her living room, dropped her bag, flicked on the light, and made her way to the sofa. Paintings leaned against both sides, and a stack of mail sat next to her. She began lazily sorting through it, wondering what it would be like to regularly receive completed contracts in the mail from buyers commissioning her artwork. Or inquiries from prospective clients, though she imagined they’d probably use email these days. She probably needed to get a website so people could order her art online.

  Most of the mail was routine stuff. She had a postcard from Hanna that made her smile, as well as plenty of junk mail. Other than that, she had one official-looking letter. She opened it, recognizing the sender. It was her landlord. At first, she thought it was a routine newsletter type thing, then realized it wasn’t that simple.

  She leaned forward. The landlord said demand for properties was increasing and property values had skyrocketed, which, he claimed, affected his insurance and property taxes, to where her rent would go up in thirty days. He apologized for the inconvenience and hoped there would be no difficulty, hence sending her this notice ahead of time. How kind of him.

  She wondered if there were any other requirements he had to follow that he might be neglecting, like dealing with the ants. Maybe she should look for a different place to rent. She sighed as she sank back against the cushion. But moving brought a whole host of problems, not to mention costs. She was still trying to pay off her last move.

  The happiness of the day threatened to melt away, just like paint down a wet canvas. She had the deposit for Hank’s commissioned painting, of course, but that money was already earmarked. She couldn’t afford to move again, not so soon, but she’d have to keep working and saving every penny to manage this new increase in rent and still keep painting, still keep her booth at the farmers’ market.

  She had to become more successful if she wanted this to work. Then, maybe she could afford to move to a better, nicer place, somewhere that would actually let her have a proper studio and not navigate around her paintings every night. Having more space for multiple easels would mean she could increase production and have more of a business on her hands.

  She swallowed and tried to ignore how all the elation and joy was gone. She took a deep breath and tried to settle the ache in her chest, the sharp and insistent feeling that this was bad. Very bad.

  Why did I think I could move to a new town and make this work? Why couldn’t I just be happy with how things were? She brought her palm down on her armrest, making the fibers on the couch cover all shift in one direction. Then she pushed herself to her feet. She needed to take a good, hard look at her finances, and she needed to do it now. No more procrastinating. No more trying to sweep it under the rug, that everything would work out just fine. If she couldn’t manage to pay her rent, she wouldn’t be living near Hank very long…in that case she might not be able to finish the painting before she had to move again.

  She sat down at the kitchen table, the only desk she had, and used her phone to check her bank balance. She scribbled the number on a sheet of paper and added the cash she’d just received.

  Then she started adding up how much money she could realistically expect to make each month, taking extra shifts—but being realistic, as she couldn’t make more hours magically appear just because she needed them. With a sinking feeling, she realized she truly didn’t have much to work with after utilities, food expenses, and monthly bills. She could make it work, but just barely, and that was only if she sold something at the farmers’ market each week. If the booth didn’t keep paying for itself, she’d have to let it go.

  It was a terrifying feeling, making her feel paralyzed, frozen to the wooden chair. She was so close to making her dream real, but this could set her back in a bad way. This is why I should’ve saved up more before moving. She knew it was the responsible route, but she’d been too excited, too eager to put her past behind her and get a fresh start.

  And what would she tell Hank if she had to close her booth down? He’d never believe she was doing it because she couldn’t afford it. If she’d been selling paintings “up north,” she would’ve had enough money saved to rent her horrible, little house and still go to the farmers’ market without any problems. He’ll think I’m financially irresponsible. Reckless. Horrible at planning and a terrible businesswoman.

  Worse, he might cancel his commissioned painting. He probably
only ordered it because of her fake backstory. And what would happen if her car broke down or she needed new clothes? If her paintbrushes needed to be replaced? She could quickly get swallowed up in credit card debt she could never repay.

  A future that had seemed so bright only a moment ago had become rather bleak. If she couldn’t make this work, she’d have to go back home and admit defeat. Her family would probably help her move back, but she’d spend the next year paying everyone back. Worse, she’d be facing everything she’d wanted to leave behind. She’d be no closer to Hank or her goal. Could they handle a long distance relationship after she admitted she’d lied to him from the start?

  Arranging all her papers neatly, she went to bed. The magical date felt like a dream, an old dream, the kind you never got to experience ever again. Painful reality had set in, and all she could do was hope that things would work themselves out—that she’d keep making enough money to keep herself from financially drowning.

  * * *

  The next day, the sun was out in full force. Cassie felt she had to follow its example and shine, no matter how hard things might be or how real her fears were. She wasn’t really in the mood to get up with a smile on her face, but she forced one anyway.

  She was supposed to go have coffee with Heather today, before her shift at work, and she wasn’t about to stand her friend up just because of her finances. This might be one of the last “coffee get-togethers” she could afford. Moving forward, she’d have to bring her coffee with her from home, but after all the pieces of the story she’d given Heather the day before her date, she owed her friend a proper explanation, without the awkwardness of homemade coffee.

  Cassie knew this wasn’t going to be a happy conversation, but at least she could be honest. She wasn’t in any place to sit pretty and talk about life with a smile and a laugh. After all, what did she really have to offer? She could talk about her own bad news and how she was stressing over it. She could explain her hopes for a relationship with Hank and how it probably wouldn’t work out. And she could talk about how her friends all seemed to be doing so much better than she was. No matter what she said, it wouldn’t be light and breezy.

  Still, she made herself go out and meet her friend in a little café close to where they worked. She tried to not drag her feet as they both approached the counter and ordered their drinks. It was hard not to look at the sum and remember just how much make-it-yourself coffee she could have for that amount, but she paid for the drink anyway, promising herself she’d enjoy every drip, even if it tasted bitter in her mouth.

  Heather sat down at the table across from her and leaned forward. “So, tell me what’s been going on? Was the date so horrible? You look like someone poked holes in all your paintings.”

  “I mean, in a manner of speaking,” Cassie said. She described her increased rent notice. Heather sympathized, admitting that her rent had also gone up two months before, which made Cassie feel a little better—at least she wasn’t the only one.

  “But that’s it? I mean, I know it’s tough, and your finances were tight already, but…you can afford it, right?”

  “Just barely.” She lifted the coffee, admiring the logo on the outside of the cup. After today, she wouldn’t get to see many of those, not in her hands, at least.

  Heather frowned. “It feels like it would take more than this to get you down. You’ve gone through a lot in life.”

  “This might be too many challenges, even for me. I like adventure, not…this.”

  Heather chuckled. “What exactly is this? The daily grind of being an adult and budgeting?”

  There was that, but Heather was right. If it weren’t for her lies to Hank, she’d be optimistic about all this, claiming she’d just pay for it with her art and that she’d get more hours a week than her stingy estimate had said the night before.

  “So…it makes me think this must also be about your date,” Heather said.

  Cassie shrugged. “Maybe. Like I told you, it had a mixed purpose. We met and talked about the painting. He paid the deposit…”

  “Well, that’s something. And he’ll pay you more once you finish it, right?”

  Cassie had forgotten about that. Maybe she had a little more cushion, after all. She sat up and took a deep breath. “Yes, he will. And the date wasn’t so bad. It was special,” she said, letting herself smile as she remembered how excited he was to go on the ride.

  “That’s better. I know this isn’t easy starting your own business and all…but I also want you to be happy along the way. You’ll attract more buyers if you believe in what you’re doing, if you aren’t just dragging through life, surviving because it’s all you can do—right?”

  Cassie nodded. It sounded a bit like what Adelaide had told her when she’d first started. She couldn’t let her negative feelings sabotage her attempt to follow her dreams. “Right.”

  “And I know you’ve had a rough couple of months, but I think this guy is really good for you. That’s why I wanted you to meet him in the first place. So why don’t you tell me why everything is so complicated with him, from the beginning. It’ll help you feel better if you lay it all out.”

  Heather leaned over and patted Cassie’s hand. Cassie breathed a deep sigh. Things might be difficult, but friends made it that much easier to get through. It made her feel like maybe, just maybe, Hank would feel the same way and not give up on her just because she’d started out on the wrong foot.

  Chapter Seven

  Despite the stress of her finances, Cassie found that it was impossible to keep her dark cloud for long. Part of it was due to Heather’s encouragement, but the rest was because Hank had started calling her regularly. They’d talk about the painting and soon she started texting him pictures of the progress she was making, the color choices for things like the walls, ceiling, and window trim. She’d never expected him to take such a detailed interest, but he wasn’t second-guessing her decisions. He seemed to be fascinated with her thoughts and eager to offer his comments and encouragement.

  She paid the movers and started saving up for her rent while looking into other local options, just to make sure she wasn’t overpaying. But her little house was still the only place in her budget. The ants were mostly gone, with only a few stragglers showing up, walking the windowsill or along the baseboard. She decided to take it as a good sign.

  And Cassie had started seeing Hank outside the farmers’ market. She’d been worried that their date was only a one-time thing, but it had started becoming a regular event. He was respectful of her work, her time, and personal space, but he often asked her out for coffee or to dinner. He took her to the movies and a cute, little Italian restaurant off the beaten path. He seemed to know all the best places, and the more Cassie got to know him, the more she enjoyed just how fresh and fun his ideas were.

  He continued to be as kind and thoughtful as ever. He was sweet and engaging, talking to her about local history and art, making her feel like she’d lived here forever thanks to how rooted her understanding of the community soon became. And he always insisted on paying, even when she argued with him about it. He was a gentleman, and she felt lucky to have met him, especially just then, when she couldn’t have afforded to go out on dates otherwise. Dating didn’t have to cost money, necessarily, but he was sweet to offer.

  In the back of her mind, though, Cassie knew it was too good to be true. At some point, he’d learn the truth about her, and everything would probably go up in flames. There was nothing she could do to stop it, nothing she could do to prevent that from happening.

  She started telling him more about her life—about her lackluster, little house and how difficult things were, settling into a new area—but she couldn’t talk about her finances with him. It could be that it went against the narrative she’d told him, or maybe it was just ego, but she just couldn’t. But she was starting to share more, and she hoped, when the day came and the truth about her artistic career came to light, he’d know enough about her to be understand
ing.

  It was a sickening feeling, and it almost made her tell him the truth a few times. But while she longed to talk to him and receive his support, she was worried that he’d judge her without meaning to, and that, in the end, she’d be pushed away or rejected.

  She hated the idea of him turning his back on her, and while she doubted he would, it was still a frightening prospect. Sure, she had friends and family, but somehow, she didn’t want to lose his unique perspective, his conversation, and the smile that always seemed so bright in his eyes. She didn’t want to lose any of that, and she thought she wouldn’t have to if she could make her relationship work and become a successful professional at the same time.

  She turned back to the painting. She’d done most of the background colors, and now she was starting to add more details. She’d been able to take a few extra shifts that week, but she was still ahead on the painting, and she almost didn’t want to hurry through it too fast. Once she was done, she wasn’t sure if she and Hank would still be together.

  A phone call jolted her out of her thoughts. She picked it up, glancing at the screen and smiling when she saw Hank’s picture. “Hello.”

  “Hi.” His voice was smooth and soft, and she felt relaxed just from hearing him talk. “I know you’re probably busy, but I was wondering if you had some time later.”

  “Sure. What are you thinking?”

  “Let’s meet up, say later on today?” The way he said it, he sounded like he really hoped to see her. She couldn’t help but smile even more, even as she looked at her painting and tried to decide if there was anything else she had to do today.