Page 19 of Pink and Country

Focused on my art, I didn’t see the hours pass. I emerged from my writing bubble at dinnertime. I patted myself on the back mentally when I realized that in my trance state, I had written over thirty pages. I stood to fix myself a snack, and sitting at the dining table, I reread everything. I fought the urge to cry my release and fist-bumped with my cat when I grasped how good this first draft was. Have I been cured of my writer’s block once and for all? I flopped back in my chair and sighed, a grin pasted to my face. I emailed the pages to my agent and decided to treat myself tonight. I deserved a little fun. I cooked chicken fajitas and opened a bottle of wine. Then I snapped a photo of me with my wineglass in hand and sent it to my best friend.

Me: Getting my groove back (I hope). Cheers

It took almost a minute for the message to go through. The internet connection here was all or nothing. Then when I didn’t expect it to come through, I got a text message from Saunders.

Saunders: You rock. Glad the mountain air is helping. Love you xx

After dinner, still feeling festive, I aimed for the jacuzzi on the back deck. The darkness and absolute silence surrounding me made this night perfect. A bit cold, but nothing the warm water of the hot tub wouldn’t fix.

With the bottle of white wine resting on the little wooden table and a half-full glass in hand, I sank my white string bikini-clad self in the bubbling water.

A whimper escaped my mouth when my cold skin met the warm water. All my muscles relaxed, and I sank deeper.

Mellow country music played on my phone, and I sipped my wine, gazing at the open sky. I’d never seen so many stars in my entire life. The darkness engulfed me, and I became one with the night sky. Nothing else around me existed. Me and the darkness atop a mountain in the middle of nowhere.

I thanked Saunders in my head.

She couldn’t have come up with a better spot for a month-long retreat slash vacation.

My thoughts wandered to my new book that finally got me excited, to my best friend afraid to take the next step with her longtime boyfriend, to the little boy next door who asked me about fairies, and to Travis, whom I imagined staring down at me from a shiny star above.

Raising my glass of wine, I cheered at the sky. “I hope you’re happy and safe over there. I miss you.”

A star twinkled, and I imagined it was Travis telling me to not worry about him. He loved the stars. “We’re just dust particles, part of a bigger plan. Life doesn’t end with death,” he’d said once. I loved believing he was right. More than ever, I loved the idea of him living somewhere out there, watching over me. It somehow lessened some of the pain.

A shooting star, bright and glittery, crossed the sky.

Closing my eyes, I made the wish that everything would fall into place in my life.

I had many things to wish for, and they all fitted under this umbrella wish.

Completing my book.

Finding my true purpose in life.

Getting out of my comfort zone.

Falling in love again. True, head-over-heels, I-am-yours-you-are-mine kind of love.

Health, adventure, fun, friendship, and family.

My ultimate goals.

I’d work hard until I’d checked them all.

I yawned.

Craving my bed, I staggered out the hot tub. My feet slipped on the cold deck, and I held myself steady, thanks to the small table.

The warm water had magnified the effect of the alcohol in my blood. I was tipsier than I thought I’d be. Off-balanced, I put the lid back on the tub. Soon enough, the warmth from the water dissipated, and my teeth chattered from the cold. Looking around, realization hit me. I forgot a towel. Great. The winter night froze my bones under my soaked skin.

I reached for the door. Whatever I did—push, pull, turn—the door didn’t budge. My frozen fingers fought with the doorknob. In vain. Did I lock myself out? Bernice appeared on the other side of the door, stretching against the glass. “Bernice, let me in, I’m freezing.” She purred and sauntered away. “Come on, baby, help me here.” My chest deflated.

My fingers shook, turning into popsicles. With my phone in hand, I staggered down the deck and circled the cabin to unlock the front door. Dying from frostbite was a lame way to go.

As it did on my first night here, the indicator light on the super-sophisticated electronic latch refused to turn green. I placed my hands under my armpits, craving some warmth. I rebooted my phone and tried positioning the device a dozen different ways over the latch. Nothing.

I stood there, half-naked, wet, and cold in the night, darkness swallowing me.