Somebody was destined to get hurt: it was just a matter of who. 

The small coffee shop on the corner before main street is busy; packed with a variety of people. Older men who order black coffee and curse at crossword puzzles. 11 year old girl groups who order piping hot chocolate. The smell of cinnamon fills the air from the pumpkin spiced latte being made from behind the counter. I’ve always adored autumn: the burnt orange and blood red leaves, the endless sun setting on the ice cold ocean, and the chilly breeze across my face. 

I casually stroll into the local coffee shop; the one I’ve been going to since I was 6. I’m a regular so I flash a few smiles at the nearby customers while waiting patiently in line. The barista looks overworked as I scan the room. Some people are bundled up as if it’s 20 degrees. It is weird to imagine that all of these individuals have different things going on. I overhear a conversation between the two soccer moms in front of me: them talking highly of their 8 year sons. I catch a glimpse of a teenage boy crying at a table to the far right. I wonder what he has going on. I finally reach the counter after about 5 minutes of waiting. 5 minutes of observing. 

I beam, “How’s your day going?” 

“It’s going okay. You can see we’re really busy today,” replies the barista who’s name tag reads Phoebe. She must be their new employee. I go with my regular: a medium iced caramel latte with a warm croissant from the glass container. I came to the conclusion this morning that I was going to wear my favorite sweater but it’s covered by my big sweatshirt that Daniel made me wear. I’ve got my tight black jeans on, the ones he’ll kill me for wearing out, and my doc marten boots. I tip the barista a $10 bill.

“Keep the change.” As I head to my everyday corner booth, I snatch three pink sugar packets. Daniel says too much sugar will cause me to get fat, and nobody likes a fat girl. I make sure nobody notices. And for the rest of the afternoon, I sit quietly in the corner, alone. As I open “History Is All You Left Me”, I know I’m going to be in trouble before even leaving the cafe. 

Despite the fact that I had convinced myself Daniel would notice not only my jeans but the $10s missing, he didn’t. In fact, when I arrived home, tip-toeing through the front door, he was nowhere to be found. The house smells of pine sol from me scrubbing the wooden floor the day before. The sun is glaring off the polished wood. Hours and hours go by and Dan is nowhere to be seen. Maybe he finally die- I shouldn’t say that. Eventually, 11:00 comes around and I hear his car pulling in the driveway. The list of all my chores spin throughout my head. I’m pretty sure everything is done and I got home before curfew. Okay, I’m good then. I’m safe. I feel myself take a deep breath of relief. Silly me to think I'd ever be safe living in a can of gasoline and being in love with a lit match.

“Why isn’t dinner ready?” Daniel slurs as he bursts through the front door. He comes in storming, bringing terror to all my good work. I can smell the whiskey on him from 10 feet away. The scent is suffocating. It is probably a sign I should leave, but for some unknown reason, I always end up staying. My eyes fill with tears as I watch him destroy our precious belongings. And as the vase is thrown my way, flying across the air towards my face; my life flashes before my eyes. Dark.

Another morning at the coffee shop will hopefully ease the memories from last night. 

But the what-ifs have been suffocating me since 1 am, when I lay beside a beast in a bed we were so eager to share. Young and dumb. The space between us was immense; even though I could feel him breathing on my neck. I wish I could go back. Where would I be without him? What would he say if I tried? Where would I go? Busy being consumed with guilt and the slight hope I might escape, I notice the cold coffee spill. While frantically cleaning it up, I am interrupted.

“You look lonely over here.” I look up and realize there’s tears in my eyes; my hands shaking just enough for her to notice them. Her. She grins as she takes the seat across from me.

 “I loved that book,” her eyes are alluring as the green pops out in the sun. “He’s one of my favorite authors.” I can sense a slight British accent while her smile lights up the room. She must’ve peeped at my book lying in the booth. She’s sitting there, waiting for a response. Oh my god, say something! She must think I’m mute. I try to spit words out; open my mouth to say hello or ask her name.

It comes out as, “You’re extremely beautiful.” Oh my god, I did not just say that. My jaw clenches as I regret all my life decisions that led up to this moment. Her giggle creates a melody: singing into one ear and coming out as a whisper in the other. I realize I have been holding my breath since her voice entered my head; my face now turning red as I let out a pant. 

“Do you speak?” She looks at the name on my cup. “Penelope. That’s pretty. I’m Eve.” It’s like I’m hypnotized. I’m mesmerized by her sleeve of tattoos and the brown, curly hair running down her back. Her lips are plump as they form into, yet again, another smile that lets out a laugh.

“Yes,” I spit out. “I mean, yes, I speak. I’m just- I mean. Um. You’re very pretty. Wait, I didn't mean to say that out loud.” I pause and hold my breath, but Eve stays quiet. “Adam Silvera is one of my favorite authors, aswell. This is my third time reading ‘History Is All You Left Me’, but I’ve also read ‘They Both Die At The End’ and ‘What If It’s Us’. I really liked ‘They Both Die At The End’ but the ending was so upsetting. I know it’s in the title, but you don’t expect it to actually happen.” Suddenly, she’s gone and standing at the cafe counter. Did I scare her away? Why did I just blurt out all of that? Please come back. I’ll be quiet. She didn’t even ask- Oh thank god, she’s coming back! 

“Can’t drink it if it’s spilled all over yourself,” Eve hands me the large coffee cup filled with my iced caramel latte. “What happened to your eye?” I look down, only to see that my coffee not only spilled all over the table, but on my lap. My grey sweats are now soaked with coffee, making it look like I peed myself! And the bruise?! I hadn’t even realized my eye was painted with black and purple. Two strikes in one minute. I take the coffee and dash out of the coffee shop without even saying goodbye. I sprint about a mile without looking back. That was so embarrassing. I can never go back there. Ever. Again. 

I find myself at the small coffee shop again the next morning. Waiting for her face to appear in the crowd as I take a bite of my croissant. When putting on makeup this morning, I made sure to cover my bruised eye with heavy foundation. I must have scared her off. Just when I am about to leave, there's her face. Her lovely face. Eve’s charming smile fits perfectly on her round face.

“Eve,” I whisper. I love the way her name rolls off my tongue. I try to hide in my booth and make it look like I’m busy doing something. She must not have gotten the memo because here she is, again, seating herself in the booth across from me. 

Eve flashes me her award-winning smile as she asks, “How has your morning been? I didn’t mean to spook you yesterday. I wish you didn’t run, haha.” And for some reason, I just can’t lie to her. The truth slips from my blush pink lips, the ones that have held his secrets for years. The secrets of who I thought was my lover are revealed. And suddenly, I find myself ranting to Eve about Daniel and what he said to me this morning. I continue talking; not being able to stop. 

“He’s been hitting me since we were 19, so for about 3 years. He always apologizes, though. He never really means to hit me- I mean. He’s always drunk when he.. you know. I just have to treat him with more respect. I mean, it’s really nothing to worry about haha. We just get into arguments like normal couples do.” Sitting there with her mouth open, she must think I deserve it. I had been speaking with a forked tongue for so long. Why was she the first person that I told?

And when I expect her to blame me, tell me I’m stupid and it’s my fault, she responds, “I’m so sorry. Thank you for trusting me with this. You are not to blame for what’s happening to you. And his behavior shouldn't be excused with alcohol.” Well, I didn’t see that coming. Did she just apologize? I feel my cheeks getting pink, and my heart slowing as I start to feel.. safe. Secure. For the first time in forever. Or maybe for the first time since Daniel and I started dating. I used to feel safe in his arms, like I had a shield against any negativity. Now he is the gloom, the monster in the dark, that I have to protect myself from. 

We talk for hours until 12 pm rolls around. Oh how bad I don’t want to leave. As I get up from my booth, Eve rises as well. She walks me to the door and before opening it, plants a kiss on my left cheek. The softest, and the sweetest kiss I have ever received. Heading back home with a smile on my face, I wish I had known her cherry lipstick was stained on my cheek. It seemed like we were only together for a few minutes. Maybe my mother was right when she said time flies when you’re having fun. I tried so hard to wipe the foolish grin, but I couldn’t shake her face out of my head. I should’ve known he would know something was up.

After missing a few mornings at the coffee shop, I finally convinced Daniel to let me go back out. My bruises had somewhat healed and I promised to stay away from the man I was seeing. It wasn’t completely a lie.. because I’m not seeing a man. Eve’s not a man. I sprint to the cafe, hurrying to see if she’s waiting in our booth. Maybe she didn’t care that I was gone. Maybe she didn’t even notice. But there she is. Eve and her goddess self, sipping tea in the seat across mine. I rush to my side. And a grin appears on her round face from ear to ear. Hours pass and talking to Eve feels as easy as breathing. Breathe in, she makes a joke; breathe out, I’m laughing until my stomach hurts. 12:00.

Days pass. Mornings with Eve seem endless. Deep conversations about past secrets we’ve never shared with anyone. Like how her dad left when she was 6; ran off with another woman and had 3 kids. He even sent her mom a family Christmas card. And guess who wasn’t on it? Eve. I trusted her with the story of my mother: her death by suicide and the voicemails I leave her every night. I know she’ll never recieve them because you cannot reach the dead, but my mind still hasn’t processed that she’s gone for good. 12:00.

Nights on the phone where I’m sitting on the bathroom floor, the cold tiles leave goosebumps on my thighs. I’m about to burst out laughing when she tries to make another “yo mama” joke. 

“He’s sleeping in the room right next to me. We have to be quiet,” I whisper into the phone.

“Why don’t you just leave him already?” she murmurs. 

“Who would I be without him?”

“Penelope.”

“Where would I go?”

“You can come live with me.”

“But he loves me,” we both know this is a lie that I keep telling myself.

“But I love you.”

The silence is smothering. The possibilities grab me by the throat and choke me until I’m breathless. Both of us. Speechless. And when I am just about to say something, maybe tell her how I feel, I hear Daniel move. I swiftly take the phone from my ear and hit the red hang up button. I’m sorry, Eve. Forgive me for not responding. How do I tell you I love you with all my heart when I’m afraid of hurting you? Afraid of him hurting you.

Eve doesn’t show up the next morning. Or the morning after that. I’m left sipping my iced latte alone. A booth that’s made for two, but only accompanied by one. And for the next week, I’m sitting in the corner booth alone, again, reading “History Is All You Left” for the fourth time. 

There’s a faint knock at my front door while I’m washing dishes. My hands: fragile and pink from scrubbing too hard. Another thump. I check that Daniel is still sleeping on the couch, and saunter to the door. Opening it up a crack, it’s Eve. What is she doing here? I’m in panic mode as she pushes the door open. And… her eyes close as she leans in. Her lips are on mine! I repeat, her lips are on mine! And for some unknown reason, I’m not stopping her. I find myself kissing her back, passionately. Oh, how long I’ve been waiting to do this. I’m getting hot under the collar as her hair tickles my face; her hands cradling my cheeks. Daniel. Daniel is right in the other room. In the middle of this awaited, intense kiss, I pull away.

“I didn’t mean to be a no-show. I thought you hung up because you didn’t feel the same, until I found the note you left me in our booth yesterday. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since.” Eve’s breathless as she goes in for another kiss. And before her sweet lips reach mine, I feel a strong, familiar hand wrap around my hair. 

Immediately, I’m being dragged across the living room. Pushed up against the wall and punched. One. Two. Three. Four. My cheeks are burning, but not from the kind of heat Eve brings to them. Pain. The same pain he’s brought down on me every day. I can make out his face as he throws another one. My face is going numb and I can feel my nose bleeding. 

“I knew you were seeing someone, just didn’t expect you to be a f**got,” he spit out. The nasty words choked me, until I realized it was his hands doing it. Lightheaded. Lightheaded. Almost gone. His powerful hands gripping my throat: fingers imprinted on my neck. Until, it stopped. His hands let loose and I hear his body thud on the ground. Breathless and stumbling, I feel warm arms catch me before I fall. Black. 

There is a saying I like that my mother used to tell me. “Never look at the truth through a carnival mirror.” Maybe if I had listened, we wouldn’t have ended up here. Standing over his dead body: the red stains her face as a tear slips from her eye. Eve’s eyes lift from the lifeless body to my face, terror spreading throughout her like a disease. Clink. The bloodied knife drops from her hand. 

Somebody was destined to get hurt: it was just a matter of who.