Evelyn wiped the tears from her eyes and snatched a menu from a nearby table. She flipped it over, then back again, searching for the wine list. After several moments, she dropped the menu on the ground and rubbed her temples. This was a breakfast and lunch café. In a dry county. In Kentucky. The nearest bottle of wine was twenty miles away, and she didn’t have a ride.
She patted down her pockets in search of her phone and swore so loudly that an elderly couple told her to watch her language. Her phone was in her purse, which was in the Maserati, which was probably speeding down the Interstate at Mach Three.
Okay, maybe this date wasn’t in the top five, but it was definitely in the top ten. With streaked makeup beneath her bloodshot eyes, she stood and walked toward the counter inside the cafe. The employees didn’t ask her if she was alright; they stared at her with panicked expressions, as if she had carried a severed limb into the building.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but…do you have a phone I can use?”
No one moved for several seconds, and the employees turned pink with shame. Of course, they had phones. Everyone carried a phone, which made Evelyn’s request seem either suspicious or insane.
Sensing their reluctance, Evelyn placed a hand on her phoneless pocket and said, “My battery died.”
These were the magic words. A teenage girl dug into her purse, retrieved a bulky smartphone, held her thumb against the fingerprint scanner, and handed the device to Evelyn.
“Thank you,” Evelyn said, holding the phone with both hands. She brought up the keypad and stared at it for a long moment. Her mouth went dry as she realized she didn’t actually know any of her friends’ phone numbers. She could feel the employees watching her, and sweat began to bead in the small of her back. Tapping the screen, she entered a string of numbers. Then she held down the delete button until they all disappeared. She typed in the area code, then the next three digits, but the last four numbers for anyone she knew were hidden in an impenetrable fog.
She couldn’t take it any longer. “On second thoughts, I think I’ll walk.” She returned the phone to the teenager then hurried outside.
It’s okay, she thought, I just won’t come back here for the rest of my life. Clicking along the sidewalk in her brand-new heels, she estimated the distance of her trek. When reality sank in, she stopped and removed her heels. Candace, who had arranged this date, lived about three miles from the café. And Evelyn’s own apartment was even farther.
As Evelyn marched the longest walk of shame in her life, she decided to bump the chocolate cake disaster to number five.
The door to the second-floor apartment swung open. Candace Priestly studied her unfortunate friend for a moment, then grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. Evelyn dropped her shoes by the door and let Candace lead her to the warm embrace of a tweed couch. Diving into the sofa, she buried her face between two pillows.
Candace sat on the coffee table and ran her fingers through Evelyn’s hair. “So…it didn’t go well?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“But Tobias was low-hanging fruit. What happened?”
Evelyn spoke a few words, but they were muffled by the pillows.
“I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t understand you.”
Turning away from the pillow and leaving a streak of dark makeup on the white fabric, Evelyn said, “I dropped cake on his shoes.”
Candace rested her hands on her knees and shook her head. “And he left you because of that? Maybe it’s a good thing it’s over. Better to rip a Band-Aid off than to peel it.”
“That’s not the worst part. I left my phone and my purse in his car. Which means I have to see him again. And I couldn’t remember your number, so I had to walk all the way here.”
Leaning over, Candace examined her friend’s blackened feet and grimaced. “Maybe you should take a shower. It’ll make you feel better, and I’ll have a bucket of ice cream waiting for you when you get done.”
Evelyn buried her face once more and mumbled, “Not chocolate.”
Candace hesitated. “I’ll head to the store and grab a tub. Then you can tell me everything.”
Pushing herself up, Evelyn stared at the throw-pillow and frowned. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll buy you a new one.”
Candace helped her to her feet. “Nonsense. It’ll come out in the wash.”
Exhausted by the long walk in the August sun, Evelyn plodded toward the bathroom. She avoided making eye contact with her reflection as she passed the mirror, turned the water on, and sat on the toilet lid as she waited for the shower to warm up. When fog began to rise above the shower curtain, she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the stream. She didn’t wash herself or shampoo her hair; she stood in the pummeling rain and tried not to think. When the hot water dwindled and the water began to cool, she spun the valve closed and dried off.
When she returned to the living room, Candace was waiting for her with a quart of strawberry ice cream in each hand and a scary movie on the television.
“What’s this?” Evelyn asked.
Candace gave her a tub of ice cream and a spoon. “A horror-flick. From my experience, they’re the best way to take your mind off a terrible day.”
Evelyn snuggled in, resting her head on Candace’s shoulder. She watched the opening scene, then sighed. “I’m going to be single until I die.”
Candace wrapped an arm around her and squeezed tight. “Cheer up; we don’t know what the future holds. For all we know, you might die tomorrow.”
Evelyn shoveled a scoop of ice cream into her mouth and shrugged. “If I do, I hope it’s from ice-cream induced shock.”
The television flickered, covering them both with blue light. Evelyn stared at the screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere. After a long moment, she said, “Twenty-seven years old, and Mr. Perfect is nowhere in sight.”
“What’s wrong with that? I’m twenty-eight and just as single as you are.”
Evelyn scowled. “By choice. You told me you didn’t want to settle down with anyone until you finished your residency.”
“That’s beside the point. I’m telling you, being single isn’t the end of the world.”
“Easy for you to say. I’ve been trying to find someone since I was sixteen. That’s eleven years, Candace.” She waved her spoon in the air. “I’m cursed—doomed to become a crazy cat-lady.”