Eleven

Sofia – Age 23

Gosh, I am tired! I'm standing behind the bar I work at in a small town called Marfa. I've been working here since the second day I arrived. The bar owner of Gloria's is, well, Gloria, who I like to call Glory, much to her distaste. She's in her late 40s, only 5’3’, with brown shoulder-length hair, and curvy, but absolutely gorgeous. She’s divorced, and an absolute hoot to work for. I remember when I walked into this bar, thinking I was just passing through. She took one look at me and told me to sit my ass down. I’ve felt right at home since.

I look to my right and see my friend and co-worker Adam staring at me with sad green eyes, his red hair spiked up. I chuckle, which makes him scowl.

"Okay, what's with the long face?" I call out to him.

"You're leaving us; tonight's your last night. Who am I going to get on the bar top with now?" Adam murmurs solemnly, and I burst out in laughter. A boisterous, loud chuckle comes from my left, and I see Adam's partner, Bruce, walk in. Bruce is a large, handsome, bald man, covered in tattoos, and is three inches taller than Adam at 6-ft.

Very dramatically, I shout, "Bruce, quick, he's having another meltdown!"

The whole bar erupts in laughter, making Adam sulk. His pout makes everyone laugh louder. Bruce walks over to his man's side of the bar and leans over to him, smirking before rubbing his finger along his cheek and whispering sweet nothings, making all of us ladies and some men swoon. The people in this town are used to us like this by now; they've all been amazing to me since I arrived.

They all believe I'm Sophie from L.A. Only Glory and April, my next-door neighbor and close friend, know the truth, and have helped keep me hidden from my family and husband. Glory pays me off the books, and April, who I met two days after leaving the cheap motel parking lot I was sleeping in. She cleans the motel rooms, and has been doing it since she was 18. She's now 28.

When I met her, she was wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt, her bob-cut, black hair was pushed back with a headband, gray eyes looking at me with pity. I hated that look at the time, but then she proceeded to tell me about the two-bedroom apartment next door to her on Maple Street, and I jumped at the chance. It's on the second floor, and there's no elevator, but it's perfect and completely paid off the books.

Before meeting Glory, I had traveled for over twenty hours to get here—around 445 miles—only stopping twice—the first stop was in Nashville overnight. The second was to swap my car a day sooner. After April offered me the apartment, Glory offered me a waitressing job when I walked in and sat down, looking sad and pathetic. She pitied me, but I couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and accepted the job, then worked my ass off. A year later, I was promoted to bartender, working with Adam. When I wasn’t working, I was studying.

"I'm going to work at the hospital downtown, not across the border. Stop being dramatic."

"I know, but I love working shifts with you, my bestie. No matter what April says, I found you first," Adam states proudly.

"Actually, Ad, I found her first, fuck you very much," Glory says from behind me, making me twirl around to her and start laughing at her outfit.

"Wha-what the hell are you-you wearing?" Bruce stutters, trying to hold his laughter in while the whole bar, including myself, pisses ourselves laughing, not being able to hold it in.

She's in her usual jeans, but her t-shirt, which is frilly around the sleeves, has a big ass picture of me with the words: “Sophie's best friend, not Adam's,” written beneath it.

Holy shit, I can't with this one; I'm near enough on the floor here!

Adam just scowls at her, then turns to serve people.

"That should keep him quiet for, oh, say, five minutes?" Glory states with a chuckle, and I lose it again when she turns around and I see she has a picture of my jean-clad ass on the back.

Three hours later, my final shift is over, and I can't wait to go home to a nice hot shower.

Bruce and Adam walk me to my Mazda, which I got when I swapped the Ford as a precaution. It might be old, but it is reliable. I give both men a kiss on the cheek and drive home.

Once I arrive at the apartment complex, I head up to the second floor. It's not much, but it's a roof over our heads. I get to my door, unlock it, and walk straight into my small living room. The light in the kitchen to my left is off. It’s a small kitchen; it can only hold a washer and dryer, a couple of cupboards with a sink, and a small fridge and freezer. It's enough for two, though. I look at my black sofa to see April sound asleep, and I smile while walking over to her to gently shake her.

She stretches, kisses me on the cheek, and says she'll see me in the morning for our Saturday breakfast. I lock the front door behind her, turn off the lights, and then head to my room right down the hall. The first door to my left is the bathroom, and I quickly take a shower and get into my pajamas, then head into the hallway. I get to the first door on my right and quietly go in. A soft pink light illuminates the room as I walk over to the princess bed I found at a garage sale and peek at my gorgeous little girl, Mila Maria. She's now two years old, and her dark hair, just like her daddy's, is a mess over her pillow. She also has her daddy's bright blue eyes. She's perfect and reminds me of him every day. It hasn't been easy, but I would do it again for her; she deserves to live a normal, free life, and I'm ensuring she gets it. I lean down and place a soft kiss on her forehead before wrapping her up a little bit more, then head to my room. Leaving my door open a jar, I climb into bed and fall straight to sleep.

Once again, I dream of what could have been if Damian had loved me.