“Venti macchiato made with soy milk and no foam, extra shot of espresso, extra drizzle, and extra hot, order up,” Julianna calls out theatrically. We both laugh at the ridiculous coffee order I collect daily for Sylvia. “Oh, and here’s a little something-something for you.” She gives me a dramatic wink like she’s letting an audience full of people in on a plot twist coming up in a Shakespeare in the Park play. “On the house, of course.” She pushes a cup with a double shot of espresso toward me, looking over her shoulders like the chain owner could come creeping out of the shadows at any moment to give her shit for her kindness.

“Thank you.” I smile. The fact that she makes me my cup of ‘something special’ every day doesn’t take away my gratitude. Julianna doesn’t have to go out of her way to make me anything, especially not for free. Yet, she always does. It’s little moments like this, these small and seemingly insignificant instances of kindness that keep my faith in humanity. I might be grasping onto threads, but after the life I’ve led, I’ll take all the threads I can cling onto.

“Don’t mention it.” She grins and takes my cash for the elaborate latte, or the ‘bitch special’ as she likes to call it. “Sooo, I’m having a party this weekend and it’s going to be completely legendary.” She leans on the counter, resting her chin in her hands as she threads her fingers through her punky, electric blue hair.

I open my mouth to politely decline, but Julianna holds up her hand, shushing me. My gaze falls to her silver skull ring she wears over one of many brightly-colored knuckle tattoos and wait for her to finish talking.

“Before you even think of saying no, just listen, okay?” She doesn’t wait, steamrolling onward, “When I say it’s going to be legendary, I mean it. My band, The Blazing Pocket Rockets, is going to be doing a set near the end of the night, so you can’t miss this one, Ella.” What started out as a strong pitch turns into a pathetic whine. Her shoulders hunch over in defeat as she reads my face.

“I’m sorry.” I wince at her disappointment. “I can’t go. It’s not that I don’t want to.” I try to soften the blow.

“Then go. If you want to go, go!” She tries another feeble attempt. There’s just no way I can say yes, though.

Julianna is probably the closest thing to a real friend I have in this entire world. For years, she’s been taking my order at this coffee shop. At first we just had very casual conversations. She was trying to learn Spanish and my English was about as broken as a child’s back then. Somehow, we managed to communicate. I doubt she even knows how much those early conversations meant to me. After losing my family and being shipped off to America like a piece of freight, the few minutes of kindness and compassion she showed me were enough to keep me going. Enough to give me hope.

Over the years, we’ve developed a real bond. Although I’ve never confessed to her that I’m an illegal, she knows my situation isn’t normal. However, Julianna has never pried into that side of my life. The only time she’s made much mention of it is to try to inspire me to rebel against Sylvia like I’m some kind of overprotected teen who needs to lash out at their parents.

“I just can’t,” I confess and gulp back the rest of the strong, flavorful espresso she gave me.

“I just wish we could hang out sometime, you know? Like, for longer than it takes to fill a bitch special.” She laughs and taps her painted orange fingernail against the coffee order for Sylvia.

“I would like that,” I answer honestly.

Inside, my stomach sinks as I realize this is probably the way our entire friendship will go. Something begins to stir up in my chest at the realization that in six years I’ve never had a single minute outside that wasn’t to run errands for Sylvia. She’s kept me almost under lock and key all this time and I’ve never even thought to protest against it.

Sylvia has even left me alone before, like she will be this weekend, and the biggest rule I broke in her absence was that I sat on the furniture. An anger I’ve never felt before billows up inside me. Any moment that I’ve been awake for over half a decade has been in service of her. Well, I’m tired of living like her slave.

“Wait a minute,” I think out loud and Julianna leans in toward me, her eyes sparkling bright under the florescent lights. “My boss is going out of town on Sunday,” I say the words slowly, like they’re completely scandalous thoughts I’m spilling. “I’m going to have the house to myself for a couple nights, so why don’t you come over?” I bite down on my lip, uncertain if I should have even spoken the words.

Julianna smiles broadly, her lip piercing pushing out prominently as her lips pull tight. “Now that sounds like a plan I can get behind.” She nods. “How about I bring some wine and we have a girl’s night?”

Before I have a chance to overthink it, I find myself agreeing. I know it’s probably the worst idea I’ve ever had, but right now, I don’t care. Since Sylvia took me in, I’ve done nothing but toe her hard lines like a prisoner trying to get out early for good behavior. It’s time I realized this isn’t something I can walk away from. This is a life sentence. So, I can start learning to have some fun despite my circumstances, or I can live a life that makes me wonder if I might as well have died back in Colombia.

I choose freedom. Sure, they might be sporadic moments of freedom that only exist when she goes out of town. But to me, it’s still freedom.