Page 4 of Beneath the Midnight Sky
I’d painted everything from dogs, to sunsets, to snow-covered barns, to the naked human form over my twenty-three years on this earth—sixteen of which I’d spent painting and creating art. The first time I picked up a paintbrush, I was seven years old and living in my first foster home. My foster parentsthought art and creating things helped with trauma, so they had built an entire art room for all the kids in their home. It was definitely one of the better homes I’d been in.
Ever since then, painting has been my escape from life—sometimes my way to just cope. The older I’d gotten, the more I’d veered into abstract or expressionism. It had been a way for me to express how I was feeling, without being forced into a box of how Ishouldfeel about life.
Just letting it all out through my brush and having the ability to create art out of my emotional baggage.
However, at the moment, it wasn’t working. The canvas in front of me was a mess of orange and white. It wasn’t what I had seen in my head at all.
I took a deep breath. Maybe it was time for a break.
Getting up, I headed into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee, because caffeine never let me down.
While waiting for the coffee to brew, I glanced down at my now vibrating cell phone, realizing that it was an unknown number. My heart stopped for a moment. There was no way he found me. I’d been gone for almost six months now. My phone plan wasn’t even under my real name.
Taking a shaky breath, I watched as it finally timed out and went to voicemail. I flipped it over, so the screen was flat on my countertop—not going to worry about it. I picked up my mug of freshly brewed coffee and took a slow sip, letting the familiar taste calm my growing nerves.
Walking back over to my canvas, I realized what it needed—indigo.
Standingin front of a floor-length mirror, looking over my outfit, I took a moment to appreciate how far I’d come since leavinghome.I was in a pair of cut-off jean shorts, a black The Ghost Inside band t-shirt that I’d cropped to just under my rib cage, and my black high-top chucks. I’d curled my dark hair into loose waves and put a small amount of black eyeliner around my light blue eyes, at the insistence of my best friend.
Ivy was dragging me out to some little bar in the middle of Raven Creek. I’d done my best not to explore since moving to Colorado. My goal here was to escape. To start over. To…yeah nope. Not going there. I was supposed to be having fun, but the unknown call earlier had thrown me off and left my nerves a bit frazzled.
“Aspen, come on, boo. We’re going to have a great time. We’re going to hit on cute men we’ll hopefully never talk to again, dance to horrible bar music, and drink tequila we won’t have to pay for. It’ll be magical!” Ivy said with her normal bouncy excitement.
She was dressed in a baby blue sundress with thin straps and white cowgirl boots. Her long blonde hair was curled like mine, and she’d donned a little mascara around her stunning round green eyes. She fit into the scene tonight perfectly. Me? Not so much at a local country bar, but I didn’t want to feel uncomfortable dressing in something I wasn’t used to being in. I refused. Not anymore.
I took a deep breath—my fiftieth of the day—and looked at myself in the mirror once more. I was going to go out with Ivy and have a great time. No second-guessing it.
I’d met Ivy as soon as I’d moved to Raven Creek. When I left Vegas almost six months ago, I drove until I had no gas money left in the budget, and I ended up here. Almost eleven hours away from home. Raven Creek, Colorado. It seemed like a nice small town where I could easily hide away. It had just underten thousand people in it, and it gave off that quaint “everyone knows everyone”, without “everyone” only being two-hundred people who thrived off of knowing your life story.
I didn’t need that. Not again.
So I found an apartment for rent, went into a bar and grill—The Roadhouse—down the street, and applied for a waitressing position. Ivy was working, and we’d instantly hit it off.
Ivy was everything I’d wanted to be. Light, bubbly, carefree. The type of girl who’d grown up with loving parents and a secure group of friends. She was someone who knew what she wanted and went after it. I wasn’t resentful—I was envious. I’d never had that life, and I didn’t have that type of family or those friends. I’d never had that kind of security. But that was okay because I was making up for lost time now.
Again, Aspen, we’re going to have a good time. End of anxiety. Pep talk is complete.
“I’m sure Todd will be there patiently waiting for you. So, probably no boys tonight,” I finally replied. Todd was Ivy’ssometimesboyfriend. They’d get serious, and then fight, and he’d bail. Only to come crawling back a week later begging for her back. I honestly couldn’t stand the man, but Ivy loved him. So, I bit my tongue because who was I to judge someone’s taste in men?
Ivy rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah, but we’re off again. Am I ready to forgive him? Maybe. Maybe not! He may need to grovel more.”
I laughed and changed the subject because I knew she’d forgive him way quicker than he deserved.
“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do this,” I said after one more deep breath. I hadn’t been to the bar we were going to yet. Normally, I went to The Roadhouse, worked, hung out with Ivy there for after-work drinks, and then went home to paint.
Ivy rolled her eyes playfully at me and laughed, linking our arms together while walking towards the door. “Come on, beautiful. The world awaits us lovely creatures of the night!”
I smiled, despite my anxiety, shaking my head at her. But I followed her, nonetheless.
The Raven waseverything I’d expected in the small town of Raven Creek—it was clearly named after the town for one.
It was a decently sized country bar with a great deal of wood paneling, tall wooden barrels, and different beer company signs on the walls, along with old photos of different local rodeo teams throughout the years. The bar itself was off to the left side of the room, with wooden bar stools, and on the right side, it had a few small high-top tables with matching chairs around them. But the rest of the room? A wide-open hardwood floor full of people line dancing. This was what had brought Ivy here. Every Thursday night, they had ladies’ night, so the drinks were discounted. However, they also had the line dancing locals out in full force.
I laughed silently to myself as I looked over at my best friend’s face. She was beyond excited. She looked forward to this all week long—literally. She talked about it all the time, trying to persuade me to come along, so like any good best friend, here I was.
“We’re doing drinks first, right?” I wondered how hopeful I sounded because, damn, did I feel hopeful.
She looked over at me with a smile on her face. “Of course we are, Aspen. Don’t be ridiculous. You and I both know I’ll need to pour multiple shots of tequila down your throat before I can drag you out onto that floor.” She winked, and I just stared at her, saying nothing in reply. I’d let her believe whatever she neededto, but there was no way I’d be getting out there on that dance floor.
