Sophie's Smile: A Novel (14 page)

13

I paced back and forth across my room. When that didn’t help, I landed face-up on my bed and tossed a baseball toward the ceiling. I focused on the ball, trying to throw it up to the same yellow speck on the ceiling (never try juggling Hi-Liter markers without making sure the caps are on tight). I was stalling. I wanted to call Sophie right when I got home, but I didn’t want to seem creepy. So I bided my time.

I actually asked Justin for his opinion. He was thrilled when I told him that I liked Sophie. He also told me that I should wait a few days before calling her—probably something he picked up on an episode of
The Simpsons
or found in one of those dating for dummies handbooks.
Play it cool.
At the time I thought he was right, but it just wasn’t me. So, I called.

“Sophie? Hey. It’s Liam.”

“Hi, Liam.”
Surprise and enthusiasm infused her voice.

“I just wanted to call and let you know I had a great time yesterday.”

“Me, too.
I can’t believe we talked for that long,” she giggled.

“Yeah, I know,” I didn’t giggle; I was too nervous to giggle. “Um, I was also calling because there is this White Elephant Christmas Party this coming Thursday. My friend, Justin and his girlfriend, Rachel are throwing one this year and I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“Oh,” she hesitated, “sure…but…what is a White Elephant Party?”

“It’s where you bring a wrapped gift, something stupid or off-the-wall funny, and there’s a game out of it. It should be fun.”

“Oh, okay.”

I cleared my throat. “And it’ll probably be better if I drive you there, because there isn’t much parking over at their place.”

“Sure. I can drive over to your place if you want, and we can go from there.”

“That works. I’ll message you all the info later today.”

“Okay.
Sounds good.”

14

Today was the big event. I was going to see Sophie and I was hoping for a kiss this time. I’d been thinking about kissing her since I dropped her off the other night.

I woke up before my alarm rang. The sun hadn’t even poked through my window yet. I decided to run off my nervous energy before I got ready for the evening.

The run was just what I needed. The air was brisk and cold. My body lurched forward in response and I pumped my arms and legs as hard as I could. I brushed past the bare trees and soaked in the biting, cold air. I greeted the passersby with a friendly “Hello,” noting how many people actually acknowledged me and reciprocated…an astounding one out of five. (
What’s wrong with the world these days? Where is the hospitality and good-natured warmth of human interaction?
)

Two hours later, I submitted to the soreness of my legs and aches from the arches of my feet, retreating back to the house. I resigned myself to living with the nervous energy that remained.

The rich aroma of coffee beans and vanilla flooded my nostrils and the crackling of turkey bacon tickled my ears.

“Hey, Bud. Want breakfast?”

My stomach growled in response.
“Definitely.”

The benefits of living without women—I could be dripping with sweat, covered in a thick aroma of sour gym socks, and wouldn’t have to wash up and change my clothes before plopping down at the table to eat.

Dad poured me a mug of hot coffee, dished some eggs and bacon, with a side of toast and orange marmalade and placed all the deliciousness on the table while I washed my hands.
Can’t be too careful of those pesky germs.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Sure. Hey, Bud—”

He hesitated, choosing to go for a slow sip of coffee instead of finishing his sentence. I felt Dad eyeing me curiously. I knew he’d been worried about me for the past few days…well, technically years, but he never talked to me about it. I was startled when he actually continued.

“What have you been up to recently?”

“Uh.
What do you mean?”

“Well, you seem…different lately…good different…and I just wanted to know the reason. Did you meet someone?” He bit hard into a piece of marmalade-slathered toast.

Wow, he was more perceptive than I gave him credit for.

“Actually, I think so. Her name is Sophie. Hey, I’m taking her to Justin’s Christmas party tonight—if you’re home, you’ll probably get to meet her. She’ll be over around five-thirty to meet up.”

“Okay. That’s great, Bud.” Worry still marked his voice. It didn’t surprise me that he was concerned or hesitant. Dad did not have much luck in this department. He pretty much blamed women for his current,
Eeyore
-like state.

Wiping.
Sweeping.
Laundry.
Dishes.
Scrubbing.
I spent the rest of the day getting ready for Sophie. I heard Dad’s quiet laughter as he, not so discreetly, observed from his recliner. He decided to go to the market to give me some space.

Satisfied with my cleaning job, I returned to the kitchen and started preparing the banana bread. I recalled mentioning to Sophie that I was going to bake her some of my “special” banana bread. Really, it wasn’t that special, but I thought it tasted good and I was trying to perfect the recipe—any excuse to make another trial batch was a good one in my book. I slid the two pans into the oven, cleaned the kitchen a second time (
Should have waited
, I thought to myself), showered, shaved, dressed, and moved to the living room to try and relax.

Instead of relaxing, I flitted around the room, adjusting the angles of things, picking small pieces of lint from the furniture, and reevaluating the décor. I lit a pumpkin spice candle. Then I started the fireplace. Dad had already decorated the living room for Christmas; a lighted mini-tree brightened the corner table, and a fragrant wreath of freshly-cut greens, tied with a red velvet bow, hung over the fireplace. I decided the room looked cozy enough.

I heard a car crunching up the gravel driveway. Glancing at the clock, it read 5:20 P.M. I smiled.
Always a little early.

I waved to Sophie as I guided her to a spot where she could park her silver Civic. When she stepped out, my breath caught in my throat. Her striking beauty, making me numb, making me lost for words.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Liam.”

Dad was out in the garage. I brought her over to see him.

“Dad, this is Sophie. Sophie, this is my dad, Jack.”

“Hi, Sophie.
It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, too.” Relief set in when I caught the approving glint in his eye. It surprised me how much his approval affected me.

“Please, come in.” I led her through the kitchen door. Perfect. The sweet aroma of banana bread filled the kitchen.
The warmth surrounding us now, calming my nerves.
I carefully watched her as she slowly, cautiously, glided through the kitchen to the living room; her movements were as graceful as a ballerina. Her eyes seemed to catch everything, take it all in, like she was a detective searching for clues to crack an open case. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I let out a harsh exhale. She jumped, turned, and smiled. I had a strong urge to take her to the couch, wrap her in my arms and hold her. Of course, I didn’t…that would be like committing suicide. Instead, I headed toward my guitar and started mindlessly tuning it.

“Would you like to hear a song?”

Her eyes brightened, “Sure.”

She sat back on the couch and eagerly watched as I showed her another piece of myself. I played her James
Taylor’s,
You’ve Got a Friend
, since I was sure I could play that piece flawlessly.

“Just so you’re forewarned…I don’t have the best singing voice.”

She nodded.

As I played, I took quick glances her way—I didn’t want to distract myself too much and mess up, of course. I noticed recognition in her eyes as I played. She perked up and held a soft smile, her eyes never straying from me, mouthing the words in a silent duet. Happiness and confidence flowed through me.

Sophie’s smile widened as she clapped.

“Wow. You were so good!”

“Thanks.” I felt a little smug, but also a little sheepish.

“You know, that’s my dad’s favorite song.”

“Really?”
Now I recognized meaning behind her smile. It was the same one she had the other day when she mentioned her family. It was filled with love.

Buzzzzzzz
.
The oven prevented any encores.

“The banana bread must be ready. Just give me a minute.” I jumped up to check on the bread, hardily noticing her quiet footsteps behind me.

“
Mmm
, that looks delicious.”

“It came out perfectly. I decided to bake a loaf to bring to the party tonight. I made the second for my dad. It’ll make him happy. He has cravings for banana bread during this time of the year. You can take some home, if you’d like.”

Sophie nodded silently, smiling.

I smiled.
She’s so cute.

15

When we arrived, everyone was already there: Tiffany and Ethan, Brian and Ava, Justin and Rachel. I hesitated, stealing a quick look at Sophie. I was sure she’d figure out this was an intimate party of couples. I hoped she didn’t feel uncomfortable.
Who am I kidding, of course she feels awkward. She’s not brainless like some women I know.
Thankfully, falling right into her hostess role, Rachel came over to break the ice and ask Sophie if she wanted anything to drink.

“What do you have?” Sophie asked softly, almost inaudibly.
Yep, she’s nervous.

“Well, I could make you a mixed drink.” She noticed Sophie’s slight cringe. Rachel quickly continued, “We also have wine, Diet Coke, Sprite, orange juice, or water.”

“Diet Coke, please.”

“Coming right up.”

The night seemed to be going better than I expected. Everyone seemed to try their best to make Sophie feel comfortable and included. They also didn’t make any snide remarks or underlying punches and jokes, which was a typical pastime among this group.

There were moments when I held my breath: when the fart jokes started up, when Justin stood on the table and reached for his belt (thankfully aborting the idea of casting a full, hairy moon on the party), and a few choice times when the f-bombs flowed like wine.

We ate pizza, drank, and laughed. Sophie seemed more relaxed, and easily fit right in. But then the White Elephant game started.

The first gag gift was a candy thong. Ethan tried it on over his trousers, and everyone laughed at the horror of it. Brian stole it, tried to be funny by taking a bite out of it, but it just made our stomachs churn. Ethan’s next gift was a book,
100 Ways to Please Your Partner
. Tiffany opened a board game…that you have to play in bed (everyone wanted that one).
See the trend?