Sophie's Smile: A Novel (18 page)

I just wanted to tell you again that I had a wonderful time with you tonight.

Also, I’m already thinking that if you don’t have any plans this weekend, maybe we could squeeze in seeing each other one more time before school starts (maybe Sunday morning, go for a walk or something?).

Give me a call if this sounds good; otherwise, no biggie, I’ll just call you sometime this week and we can chat then!

Liam

P.S. You are beautiful

My heart stopped. I had to catch my breath on those last three words…
You—are—beautiful
. My mind was racing and I lost feeling in my limbs. If I wasn’t already sitting down, I probably would have stumbled over.
He said I’m beautiful.
I didn’t realize how much I craved to hear those words, to have them directed at me.

I smiled.
He’s good.
Really good.
He strings along one new gesture, one new look, one new phrase, just enough to surprise me, hold me, the spell increasing its power each time, making me spellbound. Yes, I was wavering, but I was beginning to think he was worth it.

22

I started getting ready for our date, humming to myself while putting the finishing touches to my makeup and hair. Mid-twirl, I caught Tiff eyeing me from the doorway and lost my balance, blushing hot with embarrassment.

“So,” Tiff said with a smirk, “Is someone falling in
love
?” Drawing out the last word, she eagerly sat on my bed writhing with excitement for some juicy details.

“Hmm?
No, I’m just getting ready to go out.”

“With Liam.”

“Yes.”

“Sunday morning.”

“Yes.”

Frustrated, she pushed on, “
Soph
, tell me the details already. Is he a good kisser? Have you seen
everything
he has to offer yet?”

“Tiff!”
Now I was frustrated, heat rising to my cheeks. Who did she take me for—another Tiffany? “No, we’ve just been hanging out, getting to know each other.”

“So he’s not a good kisser and he has a small package.”

“Ugh…” Tiff was hopeless. “I don’t know to both accounts.”

“You mean he hasn’t even kissed you yet? Is he gay?”

“Geez, Tiff.”

She held up her hands in defense, “Sorry.”

“If you must know, he’s a gentleman and he doesn’t want to make me feel uncomfortable.”

“Why would kissing make you uncomfortable?”

I was starting to perspire, “Because it would be my
first
kiss.”

“Really?
You never told me that.”

“You never asked.”

“Well, I just assumed you had…at least
once,
and that you weren’t dating right now because you were just…well, picky.”

“Yea, well, that’s the truth. So please let’s not talk about it anymore, okay?” I asked pleadingly.

“Okay.” She seemed dissatisfied but she took her cue and glided out of the room anyway.

Tiff was a great roommate and friend, but like everyone else, she seemed to only know a part of who I was; this was probably my fault, as I never let anyone completely in, never let myself be completely open and vulnerable, so I couldn’t blame her for not understanding my reasons for taking things slow. But somehow Liam understood.

Well, I can’t let her get under my skin now.
I needed to get excited for the date. Worry and dread started to ease their way back into my head.
Why can’t I just feel overwhelmed with excitement?

23

“How was yesterday?” Liam asked.

“It was fine. Did laundry and cleaned a little.” I didn’t tell him about the part where I agonized about wanting to see him, touch his hand again, and smell his clean scent.
Sigh…
he looked good. His hair was combed back, set in a soft hold. I wanted to run my fingers through each strand and feel the texture against my skin.

When he greeted me I noticed his smile, as he looked me over, sending goose bumps across my skin. I couldn’t help but feel pleased.

“So, where are we going for the walk?” I was curious if it would be another new place, or if maybe he finally ran out of new places to take me.

“I’m going to take you to a place that I go to when I want to escape and get away.
A place that I run.
I think you’ll like it.”

I noticed the sign first—
Lake Murray
—it was painted in faded blue on a worn piece of wood. The clear blue water sparkled, like millions of tiny diamonds shimmering under the morning light, and I was breathless. The air was crisp. The last of the morning dew had faded, and some early-risers had already staked out a place to cast their fishing rods from the shoreline. People ranging all fitness levels and ages were jogging, biking, walking, and strolling along the wide, even track encircling the lake.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

He grinned, “Yeah, but not as beautiful as you.” His eyes were sincere and heavy with warmth. I believed him but I still felt doubtful.

“Thanks,” I said softly.

Thankfully he changed the subject. “I thought you’d like it here. It’s a nice place to go for a run, but don’t worry—we’re just going to take a little stroll today.” He winked as he glanced toward my flip-flops. I invariably wore the wrong type of shoe.

“Well, I don’t think I’d be able to run anyways.”

“Oh?” His eyes lit up. He seemed to crave learning new facts about me.

“Yea, I’m not much of a runner. Actually, I wish I was good at it, it seems very rewarding. But I get worn out and tired easily, especially after a short run or jog.

“Hmm.
I see.” He seemed to be contemplating this for a while and then noted, “Do you think it has anything to do with your VSD?”

I was surprised he remembered. I told him about the defect briefly on our coffee date. “Huh. I’ve never thought about that. I guess that’s possible.”

“Well, then we’ll just keep it at a gentle walk. Sound good?”

“Okay.”

As we walked, I noticed the ducks swimming in the lake and the birds singing in the trees. Liam knew, by name, all the types of trees, ducks, and birds that inhabited the area. Most of all he loved the trees.

As we passed by he pointed and exclaimed, “There’s
Eucalyptus camaldulensis
. Oh and there’s
Tamarix ramosissima
,
Salix gooddingii
, and more
Eucalyptus citriodora
.” He told me that the reason why all the Eucalyptus here were so tall and wispy was because they were growing too close together and were often flooded by the lake when the water rose in the winter.

I found out that
Populus fremontii
(Western Cottonwood) made his favorite sound in the world. That made me smile.
Who has a favorite sound?
He said he liked the way the leaves rustled in the wind due to their flat petioles. He went on to describe their unique side-to-side waver—making a “so-so” gesture with his hand to demonstrate.

Throughout my unexpected botany lesson, I quickly observed his passion for the environment. For being open to the public, the area was clean and well maintained but of course there was the occasional candy wrapper or plastic bottle thrown carelessly, a few feet from the bright blue trashcan. I watched, amazed, as Liam casually bent over to pick them up, dumping them in the next available trashcan. He had a large heart, filled with more compassion than most have in their little finger.

We stopped at a stone bench a couple miles in, which was marked by generations of hearts, initials, and love notes. We sat for a while, taking it all in: the calmness, the exquisite natural beauty, the soft chirps of the birds, and the fluttering of ducks’ wings as they
dove
down below. The water’s edge lapped near our feet as we sat there, inches apart. The breeze cooled the prickling sweat from our backs. Liam’s hand met mine, first awkward and stiff but as he entwined his fingers through mine, the awkwardness faded; then he slowly, passionately, moved his thumb inward to have contact with my palm and gingerly rubbed it like he did during the movie. The small movement frightened me, not because it hurt—no it didn’t hurt, it felt nice, good—but because it felt
too
good. We didn’t speak, we just absorbed.

After a while, we rose and continued our loop around the lake. While walking, our conversation picked back up. I learned that he used to play baseball and was good enough to contemplate trying out for the pros (he probably would look good in the uniform). I learned that he used to be depressed, so much so that everyone he loved was worried about him. I learned that his parents’ divorce crippled him into an even more depressed state. I learned that his favorite color was green, that he dreamed of traveling around the world, wanted to learn more languages, wanted to own a house by the time he turned twenty-eight (a random age, most people would choose a round number like thirty), and above all, he looked forward to becoming a wonderful grandfather. (
Wait, doesn’t he have to be a father first?
)

In just a few weeks, I learned so much about him and he about me; wanting to know more, craving to know everything. I even started noticing his tiny inflections when he looked at me, the way I made him nervous each time I caught him looking my way, and the way he lit up, eyes softening, when he talked about his grandfather.

My feet were throbbing by the time we got back to the car. Feeling the tender spots where my skin was rubbed raw. We took a moment, overlooking the lake—we were up the hill now, the entire lake spread out below our feet—soaking up the beauty. I sighed and he made his next move.

He let go of my sweaty hand and abruptly placed his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to his side. The move was so fast that he pinned my right arm. His hold was strong and the position uncomfortable—I felt myself tipping slightly forward. I decided he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon; if I wanted to make this more pleasant, I would have to wiggle out from his hold and place my arm around his waist, like a drawn out sideways hug. After much contemplation I made my move. It felt more comfortable. It just felt right. I could feel his breath quicken and his heart thud with each beat. My stomach tightened in response and I could feel myself longing for more, to stay there forever.

“I guess we should head back,” Liam said.

I forgot about the dreaded winter quarter, which was starting tomorrow. He definitely would want to be prepared for it. I understood. But at that moment I was feeling selfish and I wanted to hold him there, make him stay with me longer. I was sure if I asked he would have stayed, but that would be wrong of me to do so. I kept quiet and just nodded.

After he dropped me off, I turned on my computer and waited, like a loyal dog that painstakingly waits for its owner to return, to hear from Liam.

Half an hour later I happily read Liam’s new message:

January 8, 2006 2:54 PM

Subject:
Hey