Pulling into the parking lot of a motel, I parked in front of the room I was staying in. At a cheap rate, staying there had been my best bet for the last three weeks. With the kind of money Carter paid me, I easily pocketed more than enough to cover the cost of living costs and had extra to take home with me.
Abandoning my car and letting myself into the room, I wondered if I even needed to stay. I didn’t really need to stick around in this part of the state. I could go back to the house I was renting with my other roommates.
While two of them were out enjoying their vacations, Grace had stuck around for dancing lessons. If I returned to her, I wouldn’t have to spend my vacation alone. Plus, I’m sure there could be some type of job over there. Sure, it would be low-paying and hard work, but if I didn’t have much of a choice, it didn’t matter.
Because I prepaid for the rest of this month, I had another week to decide. At least for a few days, I could relax like I dreamed of doing at the very beginning. This caused another sigh to form deep inside of my chest.
Stepping inside the motel, the smell of dried acrylic paint hit my nose. Immediately, my shoulders sagged in relief. After such a long day, it felt like I had entered tranquility. My own safe space with my paintbrushes and paints.
In the middle of the room, an easel rested with my newest work of art. Normally painting with my emotions, the painting was bright and filled with pastel colors. Right now, I didn’t feel as bright and happy as I normally would after I worked under Carter.
Approaching the easel, I took off the canvas and placed it against the wall, flipping it around so I wouldn’t have to see it. I’d continue it another day.
Right now, I wanted to start a new painting. One that would allow me to express my feelings without having to voice them. Getting out a blank canvas, I set myself up to begin a new piece. Firstly, I needed to get out of my cleaning uniform.
I wouldn’t need the bland outfit any longer. Stripping away and kicking it in a corner, I dressed into something more comfortable. Something that wouldn’t remind me about Carter. I needed to get in my own headspace.
Pulling out some dark color paint, I pulled the chair from the small desk that rested in the corner. Taking a seat, I stared at the white surface until I got a vision of what I wanted to paint. Without wasting another second, I got started.
While each stroke brought peace, my thoughts remained jumbled.
My father had expected me to get into politics. Growing up, he prepared me to his best ability. After all that time and hard work in setting me up to be a successful member of society, I sent his dreams crashing down when I told him about my own dream.
I wanted to be a painter. I enjoyed being able to express myself that way.
In high school, I had to figure out what college I wanted to go to. My father had made it clear which one he planned on shipping me away to with the promise of a paid tuition.
Like the defiant child I was, I found Bucknell University and fell in love with the majors offered.
My father wasn’t happy. After growing up with such a lavish lifestyle, I owed him apparently. If I wanted to follow such a reckless and ignorant path, he wasn’t going to support me. So he made my options very clear. Play the part of the perfect daughter and continue living the life he created, or I could go out on my own to the scary world I’d been hidden from growing up.
The choice was obvious and I hadn’t regretted it once since enrolling.
I didn’t plan on regretting it in the future either.
That didn’t mean playing the game of survival had gotten any easier since then.