She crossed her arms and scowled. The lack of vision crushed her. This should have been easy. A piece of yummy cake. After that wonderful first kiss by the lakeshore amid a rain of fireworks in the sky? She should be a fountain of talent. A well-spring of all things beautiful. Her muse should be singing with glee. But no. She felt as empty as her mother’s gas tank a week before bills were due.
She wanted the present to be special. Something that would show him her gratitude for the wonderful experience he had given her. Getting to play dress up and dipping her toe into his world was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime, bucket-list item for a girl with little to no prospects for the future.
The thought sent her spiraling down. Good luck trying to spark any type of inspiration now. But it was the truth. Everyone in Caleb’s world took their future for granted because it was always there waiting for them. The cousins were jetting off to Europe come August. Colleges had practically begged Preston to swim for them, according to Nathan. And Natasha? She had the world in the palm of her hand. Didi? Well, she had until Caleb’s party to finish this damn painting. That was as far as she was willing to let herself think.
Her mind wandered away from what she needed to be doing, so she paced. Three steps to the left, turning on her heel, then six steps to the right, then back again. Each time she passed the canvas she would glance at it, imagining the image that would look best on its surface.
Nothing.
A whole lot of nada.
Her feet ached by the time she stopped pacing.
“To hell with it,” she huffed up at the ceiling, her hands on her hips.
Picking up her wooden palette and sticking her thumb through the hole, she plucked a fine-tipped brush from the assortment dipped in turpentine and studied the canvas again. Then she coated the brush with yellow paint and brought the tip closer to the blank space. But before she could make contact, her hand shook. Badly. Like eight-point-nine on the Richter scale.
A burst of frustration had her dropping the palette and brush and pulling at her hair, transferring some of the paint on her fingers to the messy strands. A growl climbed up her throat. Of all the days to lose her motivation. She covered her face with both hands and sat on her haunches. She wanted to cry, but her eyes remained dry. All the emotion inside her seemed bottled up, but she wasn’t strong enough to unscrew the top.
She had no idea how long she stayed in a seated position with her face covered until the alarm she had set in her room went off. The blaring whine of the digital clock reminded her of one thing: time to take her meds. When she painted, hours could pass without her stopping. Setting the alarm ensured she wouldn’t forget.
With a sigh, she pushed to her feet and stomped out of her happy place into her room. She punched the button on her clock and the hysterics stopped. It had seemed louder since she had the house to herself. Although Didi’s mother should have been on her way home from her shift at the store by now.
Once silence returned, she shuffled into the kitchen toward the counter where she had left the pill organizer that morning. She popped the PM section for that day and took out the pills. She stared at the collection in her palm.
If she didn’t take her pills, she was a hundred percent sure she would finish the painting in time. If she didn’t take the pills, just for a couple of days max, her creativity would return. If she didn’t take them . . . she would fly until there was no sky left. She was sure of it. Closing her fingers around the tablets that were the difference between life and death, she made the decision. Not hard when Caleb’s smile popped into her head. He deserved the best from her.
Light feet carried her into the bathroom. Standing over the toilet bowl, she opened her fist and watched the lifesaving medication plunge one by one into the water. Hand steady, she flushed. The discharge of the water seemed like the loudest sound in the world. It was music to her ears. Around and around the pills went until they were sucked out of her life. She didn’t need them. Not right now. She was fine. Absolutely fine. The boat was steady. The kite was flying. And the anchor wasn’t tugging too hard. Already she could feel her muse coming back.
She had made the right choice.
A smile stretched across her lips when the front door opened. Like a thief caught in the act, she lowered the toilet seat cover.
“Didi?” her mother called. “Did you take your medication?”
Breathing hard to calm her heart, she said, “Yeah.”
The lie came out easily. She could do this. She would have to make sure that her mother wouldn’t see her when she flushed the meds. And she would have to pretend to be sleeping. She could do this. It was just for a couple of days, she told herself as she walked out of the bathroom to meet her mom in the kitchen.
“How does pizza sound for dinner?” her mom said, flipping open the box.
Pizza meant only one thing. “Taking another shift at the diner?”