Page 3 of The Nightmare's Kiss

I hear our mothers are conspiring to arrange coffee between us. Should we indulge them before they go through the effort of an elaborate setup?

There’s a little anxious twist in my stomach as I send it off. Still, when I get inside, I fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow.

2

Chapter Two

Waking up in my childhood bedroom is a surreal experience. As I stare up at the textured white paint of the ceiling, dotted with a few glow-in-the-dark stars that somehow never fell off, I feel a strange sense of déjà vu, like I’m reliving a day from years ago. My parents left my room untouched. The walls are still plastered with embarrassing posters of boy bands and Sailor Moon. Above the headboard dangle fairy lights and strung-together Polaroids of friends I haven’t spoken to in years.

Outside my door, the rest of the house is quiet. It’s a Monday, after all, and both of my parents must be at work already—my dad at the local home improvement store, and my mom at the library. I spend a good, lazy half hour in bed on my phone. But my email inbox is empty, scrolling through the news is depressing, and my social media pages even more so. Everywhere I look are pictures of my college friends moving into exciting new apartments in exciting new places for exciting new jobs. Meanwhile, I’m here, stagnating in an old twin bed that’s even more uncomfortable than I remember. I’ve told my parents it’s just a tough market right now, but the truth is that I’ve hardly applied to anything. Every time I look at the requirements for a job or a master’s degree, it makes me feel like I want to puke. The endless requirements, the low pay, the fact that I’m one of hundreds of psychology students who graduated from my university alone… How the hell am I supposed to stand out? What makes me special?

The answer I always settle on is: nothing. Nothing at all. And so I exit the page before I can bring myself to submit my resume or transcript, every time.

Before I can wallow too long in my despair, a text lights up my phone.Free for lunch today if that works?

I rub my still-bleary eyes and sigh. Coffee with an ex who’s more successful than me sounds like the last thing I need on my first day back in town. But I’m the one who offered, and I know that if I don’t use this excuse to drag myself out of bed, I’ll probably spend the rest of the day wallowing. Plus, my mom did mention—several times, pointedly—that my dad would drive them both to work so she could leave her car here for me to use as I wish.

Anyway, in a town this small, it’s inevitable I’ll run into Ethan eventually. Better to get it over with now, in a situation under my control that I can adequately prepare for. Otherwise, it’d probably end up being on a midnight alcohol run in my pajamas and day-old makeup and be even more embarrassing.

I sit up with a groan, shoot off a thumbs-up text, and drag myself out of bed to prepare.

The moment I walk into the cafe and see Ethan waiting at a table in the back, I’m grateful for the time I spent getting ready. I felt foolish applying make-up and pulling on one of my favorite outfits—a wide-leg floral jumpsuit and cute Chelsea boots—for an ex I don’t evenwantto see again. But now, seeing him in a button-up shirt and sporting an admittedly flattering new beard, I’m glad I don’t look like I just dragged myself out of bed…even if it’s true. I still feel half asleep without my morning cup of coffee, but my parents only have one of those nasty fake-coffee pod machines in the house, and I wasn’t desperate enough to stoop to fake coffee when we had plans at my favorite cafe.

Cup o’ Happy does not disappoint. I breathe in the rich, earthy smell of freshly-ground beans, listen to the frothing of the espresso machine and the low chatter of conversations at the tables in the back, and a sense of calm washes over me. I spent so many weekend afternoons here as a teenager, sipping sweet mocha out of handmade mugs or downing shots of electrically bitter espresso. While some things have remained the same—there’s still the usual chalkboard of specials on the wall behind the bar, and a collection of kitschy mugs to choose from if you’re not taking your drink to go—there are also fresh touches that make it feel less stuck in time than the rest of this town. Someone has added playful doodles along the specials list, which also includes several drinks I’ve never had before, and the windows have been updated to allow more buttery sunlight to spill across the pastel flooring.

I’m also relieved, in this case, to see that some things are the same. Eloise is still standing behind the checkered counter, and resident café cat Schadenfreude curled up atop the register. Eloise’s hair has gone completely white, and there are new lines in her brown face, and Schadenfreude looks even mangier than I remember with his matted gray fur and half-missing ear, but they’re still here.

Eloise’s face lights up as she sees me approaching. “Oh, darling, you’reback,” she says, leaning over to take one of my hands. Her hands are dry and papery in the way of the elderly, but her grip is still strong around my fingers, and her eyes are still bright. She’s dressed in her usual bohemian style, in a flowing chiffon dress with chunky, colorful jewelry heaped around her thin neck. She’s seemed vaguely old since I first met her as a young teen and seems older still now, but she still radiates the same exuberance as always. “I’ve missed you, dear.”

I smile, squeezing her hands. “Missed you too. And your coffee.Desperately.”

She scoffs as she pulls her hands back. “Oh, pishposh. I’m sure they had decent coffee somewhere in that big ol’ city.”

“Not like yours,” I say, and I mean it. I eye the selection of mugs and then grab one with a frowning sunflower and present it to her. “Surprise me with one of the new specials?”

She beams. “Oh, yes. I’ve got something I think you’ll love.” Then her expression shifts, and she leans over, lowering her voice to a whisper. “By the way, I should warn you, a certain ex of yours is lurking in the back corner.”

I suppress a laugh. “I’m here to meet him, actually, but I appreciate the heads-up.”

She lifts her eyebrows but doesn’t ask any questions. “Just tug your earlobe if you’d like me to pass by and spill hot coffee on him,” she says, and busies herself preparing my drink.

I lean over to scratch Schadenfreude atop his head. He opens one eye to glower at me for disturbing his rest and then shuts it again. I’m pretty sure he’s secretly pleased.

With that done, and Eloise promising to have my drink delivered to the table once it’s ready, I have no further reason to delay. I turn, set my shoulders, and walk to Ethan’s table.

He’s typing on his phone, and only looks up when I stop beside the empty seat across from him. But as he raises his eyes to meet mine, a smile spreads across his face, and he shuts off his phone and stands to greet me.

“Mara,” he says. “Been a while.” Before I can try to guess what the proper greeting is, he extends a hand to shake. It feels oddly formal, but less weird than a hug probably would be, so I lean over to accept. He pulls out my chair for me, too, which is a nice touch, and not at all something I would’ve expected from the version of him I used to know.

“Thanks,” I say, taking a seat. He sits across from me and sips his espresso.

“How long have you been back in town?” he asks.

“Just got in yesterday.”

“And how long are you planning to stay?”

“Uh…” I wince and shrug. “Good question. Ask the job market, I guess?”

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