“It’s all about perspective. And a little distance I guess. Some things are just better when viewed from afar. Take my face for example. If I sit down on my chair and look at my skin in the mirror without leaning forward, I might not see the pimple that had erupted the night before, or the redness, or the lines, or the pores. But if I move closer to the mirror, letting my nose almost touch the cold surface, I will notice all of it. Things will appear like magic. Only there is no such ting. I obviously know there were always there, but not seeing them makes me feel better, makes me believe I am beautiful.
It’s the same thing with love. If you analyse it too much, if you start looking at all the details and small things, you might find out that your significant other isn’t the perfect human, the one that made you laugh, the one that made you feel safe and protected. The one you fell in love with. Even the smallest things will chance your perspective.
When I first saw him, he looked perfect. Blue eyes, black hair, smooth complexity. The way he smiled when I handed him the coffee was out of the best romantic books. It was the stuff of dreams. My dreams. As cheesy as this sounds, he made me melt in front of him. And I was so relieved he took the cup out of my hands fast, because I don’t know how long I could have gone without dropping it and making myself look like fool.
He sat at the table and looked back at me and smiled.
He came back for more coffee after that first encounter. Day after day, he visited me. He always asked for a flat white and sat at one of the tables near the window. He always smiled. And I smiled back at him. And I made sure his coffee was perfect every time.
He was there for me. I knew he was the one, even though we weren’t a couple yet. But all his attention, all his goodness or the way he spoke to me – these was all relevant. These showed me the truth.
Then one day he was joined at the table by another man. At first, I didn’t pay any attention to the newcomer. I was too busy looking at him while making other coffees for other not so important people that came to the cafe.
But when that brute reached for his hand and held it a little too long, I was thunderstruck! How could he do this to me? Why didn’t he tell me he was in a relationship? Thankfully, my nasty thoughts lasted just for a second. My love looked uncomfortable. He was smiling, but it looked forced. It wasn’t the smile he was always giving me every day. He wanted to pull back his hand! But for some reason he was fighting with himself to keep it there. He was being abused! I couldn’t know what the other man did to him, but I knew in that moment I needed to save him. I wasn’t sure how, so I needed time to investigate the whole situation.
Day after day he came back. Sometimes he was alone, other times that brute was with him. He looked sad everytime and I wish I could have just gone to him and hug him and tell the other one to go fuck himself. But I was afraid I’ll make it worse for him. I couldn’t know all the details.
So I took courage and spoke to him one day when he was alone. I found out his name is Rob. How beautiful that sounds! Rob. Rob. Rob. I found out he really liked my coffee and he thanked me for being nice to him everyday. He said I am lovely.
Lovely.
Day after day I chatted with him, but I made sure to give him space when the abuser was in the picture. The other man looked bad. I took time to study him. His face was grey, his eyes bloodshot. He was skinny and he stank. He made me puke.
He was still holding Rob’s hand but he didn’t have any coffee anymore. I think he must have known I was into him.
Then one day, both of them stopped coming. One week passed, then a month.
I was starting to panic, thinking the disgusting man did something to my love. I was ready to go to the police, when one sunny morning Rob opened the door and came to the till.
I felt relieved. I felt loved. I felt complete. He was back. He was ok. He couldn’t stay away from me. He got rid of that asshole and he was finally back to tell me about what I meant for him. How I was the girl of his dreams.
He looked tired and older. But it was probably from all the exhaustion that engulfed him after fighting to get out of the grip of that nasty man.
I smiled but he did not smile back. He ordered his flat white and went to his table. I watched him cry and I didn’t know what to do.
I went to him.
‘Hi’
He wiped his beautiful eyes and looked up at me.
‘Hello’
‘How are you today?’
The question must have taken him by surprise because he didn’t answer for a couple of minutes, while tears kept pouring down his cheeks. Then, after an excruciating wait, he said:
‘Excuse me, this probably looks bad.’
‘It looks sad, not bad’
That made him cry some more.
‘It’s just…my husband passed away a month ago and this is the first time I came to our favourite coffee shop since he…’
And he started crying again.
I was speechless.
He was not.
‘I am so sorry. I cannot stop. I think this was a bad idea. I will leave now and maybe I will come back one day when I gather more courage’
He stand up.
He was so close to me. I could smell him. He was all a girl could have wished for. Tall, handsome, sensitive, smell like flowers.
And gay.
NO. That was surely a misunderstanding. He was in love with me! All the smiles, the chats, the barely touched your fingers when you handed me the coffee. Why was he lying? Why was he hurting me so much? What we had was perfect! What we had few people in this life have it! WHY WAS HE RUINING IT?
‘My love, you are clearly distraught.’ I said, giving him another chance to readdress the whole situation.
He looked thunderstruck again.
‘The…umm…what?’
I took one step closer to him. Tried to touch his face.
That’s when he pushed my hand away and I saw the ring.
Love is all about perspective. And some distance. The closer I got, the more unpleasant things I found out.
I needed to feel him. Just one touch.
I grabbed him by the collar and kissed him hard. If this was to be our goodbye, it had to be a sweet and remarkable one!”
“And is that when you stabbed Mr. Patrick?”
