Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Rose

My battery is drained by the time Aria and I get home. Deciding to take some time to rest before attempting to tackle my new project, I grab a spoon and fish what's left of my ice cream out of the freezer. Not the healthiest choice, but entirely necessary after realising I'm going to be stuck working with Phillip for weeks . While the meeting went surprisingly well, all things considered, that doesn't mean I wasn't freaking out for most of it.

I swap out my jeans for a pair of leggings and tug on a pair of fluffy socks, completing my transformation into someone who will not be leaving the house again today. I quietly munch my way through the minty deliciousness while listening to a playlist on my phone, when Taylor starts to sing about why we can't have nice things. Seems a little on the nose right now.

Tub empty, I drift off into an ice cream induced sleep only to wake up two hours later, starving and with a crick in my neck because I didn't lay out my pillows right before nodding off. Since I can't live on ice cream alone (more's the pity) I disentangle myself from my nest of blankets and head back to the kitchen in search of real sustenance.

Hunger satisfied thanks to last night's leftovers, I head back to my room refreshed and ready to get to work. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, propped up by several pillows, I open up Aria's inspiration board, eager to come up with a design she'll be proud of.

A few hours later I'm feeling considerably less eager and a lot more stressed. I've come up with a few rough options to expand on but none of them feel quite right. With a frustrated groan, I toss my tablet to the end of my bed and bury my face in my pillows. I can't let Aria down and I need to reconnect with my creativity. If I'm not an artist I don't know what I am.

The bright grey light of early autumn shines across my bed where I lie snuggled under my duvet and an extra blanket. The blackout curtains I failed to close the night before do nothing to stop the outside world infiltrating my cosy sanctuary. Eyes gritty thanks to a restless night, I blink against the harsh morning light, wriggling free of my duvet cocoon to check the time on my phone. It's still early and I don't have to be anywhere, but my full bladder chases away any thoughts of rolling over and trying to get more sleep.

Thanks to my condition, I experience non-restorative sleep and need more sleep than the average person. Under the advice of pain management professionals, I practice mindfulness exercises and make sure to take a half-hour nap around eleven-thirty in the morning whenever possible, finding it does make a small difference to my energy levels. Still doesn't mean I ever wake up feeling fully refreshed, but I'll happily take this groggy re-entry into consciousness over the days I can barely keep my eyes open for more than ten minutes at a time.

Last night's sleep only conjured up nightmares of all the ways I could potentially screw up the set project, so, after taking care of business in the bathroom, I decide to give myself a little confidence boost to start the day. Opening my emails, I move to the folder I created just for customer feedback—specifically happy customer feedback. Reading through messages from past clients thanking me and sharing how happy they are with their new paintings has become part of my routine since the break-up. My confidence might be low right now, but seeing how happy my art made people in the past helps nudge me along the road to believing I can create something that will do that again in the future.

Dressed in a wool loungewear set, my shower-damp hair swept up into a messy bun, and fuelled by a healthy breakfast, I settle on top of my freshly made bed with a mug of coffee and a renewed sense of determination. Taking a calming breath, I open up my tablet, trying to objectively look at the designs I started last night. Fresh eyes have me feeling considerably better about the previous evening's attempts. Some are clearly destined for the slush pile—the one with snarled and twisted trees that looks more like it belongs in a horror film is a goner for sure, but a couple of others have potential.

Aria wants a set with four moveable pieces that will make the kids in the audience feel like they've been transported into a magical forest. The show is about safety when walking home—look before crossing the road, don't wander off with strangers, that kind of stuff. She doesn't want it to feel too real and potentially scare the younger children, hence the fairytale theme.

Tapping on the thumbnail displaying a soft and whimsical design, I open one of the more promising options. My initial sketch leaves a lot to be desired but coupled with the roughly indicated colour palate of soft lilacs, periwinkle blues, sage greens, and dusky pinks, it hints at the magical forest it could become. Deciding the pastel design holds potential, I set to work neatening up my original sketch of intricately swirling branches, then layering on more and more detail. Once the black and white outline of flowering trees, chair-sized toadstools, and a flowing river is fleshed out I begin adding a basic indication of colour.

Lost in my work, the hours fly by until my stomach grumbles, pulling my focus. Looking up from my screen I realise the room has darkened around me, the sky outside now a watercolour of burnt orange, pink, and sienna. I've missed lunch altogether and it's close to dinner time. Flipping on my bedside lamp I review my efforts with a critical eye. I don't hate it. I actually kind of… like it? A spark of pride shines in my chest like a distant star as I look over the whimsical fairytale forest glowing up at me. It's something I would have loved as a little girl.

The practical side of my brain makes an appearance and I worry the intricate design will be too complicated for the deadline we're working to. I still want to show it to Phillip but I should probably whip up a simplified version as well. Just in case. One with a cleaner outline and a more realistic forest colouring of greens and browns can't hurt.

My stomach growls again and I decide the second design can wait until tomorrow. For now, it's been a good day and I plan on rewarding myself with a delicious dinner of leftover lasagne from the freezer. No cooking and pasta: the ultimate celebratory meal. Packing up for the day I catch myself smiling. Maybe I can do this.