Sophie's Smile: A Novel (20 page)

 
I never heard of a girl feeling nothing when she was about to start a relationship, especially after experiencing a night like last night.

In his next message, he explained the modification:

January 16, 2006 11:19 AM

Subject: RE: RE:
Good Morning :)

Body:

Hi Sophie,

(…)
So, about the profile change.
Well, yeah, I was thinking that I really like you, and I want you to know that I’d like to be your boyfriend. That is, if you’d like to be my girlfriend. I mean, there doesn’t have to be a “definitive point” in which we are “now officially together”, but I want you to know that I’ve found what I’m looking for in you. I’m more of the school of thought that relationships evolve incrementally, and don’t need to be forced or rushed. Me, changing my profile, is just a way of communicating to you that I would be honored (and happy!) to continue seeing you, and to have the chance to enrich your life in every way I am able…I guess I’d rather see you in person to explain this further. But, for now, just know that I like you A LOT! :)

-Liam

27

The week that followed flowed by easily. Liam and I started meeting up between classes; we would study together in the gray, spaceship-like building known as Geisel Library, and he walked me to class if time permitted. We were starting to become inseparable.

We even started talking via instant messenger each night and every moment we were apart. We learned a lot more about each other using this means of communication; we were so often planted in front of a computer, and relished the study breaks:

Itchy Bonsai (6:14:32 PM): how are you doing over there?

Pinkie16 (6:14:51 PM):
do’n
okay

Itchy Bonsai (6:15:06 PM): awesome! (
just
checking in, since you popped in my head)

Pinkie16 (6:16:05 PM):
awww
u
think’n
of me?

Itchy Bonsai (6:16:19 PM): I sure am…only always, GOSH!
Haha

Pinkie16 (6:15:52 PM):
haha
k…
don’t
lie now

Itchy Bonsai (6:17:10 PM): okay, well I do sleep sometimes

Itchy Bonsai (6:40:02 PM): have you seen the movie “
Amelie
”?

Pinkie16 (6:40:16 PM): nope

Itchy Bonsai (6:41:21 PM): oh, okay…because I was thinking of things to do on Saturday, and I thought maybe we could watch a movie over at my house. I think you would like that one.

Pinkie16 (6:41:57 PM): I heard it was a good movie

Itchy Bonsai (6:42:05 PM): It’s in French (subtitles), but it’s cute as long as you don’t mind subtitles

Pinkie16 (6:42:30 PM): no, I don’t mind them

Itchy Bonsai (6:43:28 PM): good…oh yeah, and you still haven’t been down to India Street!

Pinkie16 (6:43:53 PM):
wut’s
india
street?

Itchy Bonsai (6:44:07 PM): It’s “Little Italy” in SD with all sorts of delicious restaurants

Pinkie (6:44:23 PM):
Mmmm

The next day I received a message from Liam. We weren’t sending messages to each other as often since we started talking more through online chat, so this was a nice surprise:

January 20, 2006 5:00 PM

Subject:
Just Because

Body:

Hi Sophie,

I haven’t checked MySpace in a while, so I thought I’d send you a message “just because.” :)

You know, I also wanted to tell you that you are a very thoughtful person; you are as kind as you are beautiful (I really mean that). When I get your text messages, or see you, or think about seeing you, it just makes me feel so calm and happy inside. (Okay, I’ll stop before your ego gets too big…
haha
). But really, Sophie…you are a wonderful person and I appreciate it SO much.

I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!

Liam

My heart fluttered in response to his honest and heartfelt words—any girl would be crazy not to be affected by them—but, I was
petrified
. I thought back to that night on the beach. I felt his heart throbbing with raw emotion, an uncontrollable hunger surging through him, and I felt his need for more. More than I felt capable of giving him.

28

Little Italy was a charming neighborhood along India Street, near the heart of downtown San Diego. The street was lined with Italian restaurants, cafés, bars, shops, and apartments. Colorful awnings, hanging flower baskets, potted plants, strings of lights, historic lamp posts, dogs being walked, people laughing and chatting, smells of tomato sauce, garlic, oregano, and freshly-baked bread wafted in the wind.

The line for
Filippi’s
Pizza Grotto was long but moved steadily along. Wrapped in my thick jacket, I shivered amidst the cold January night air, my stomach grumbling as it anticipated the delicious Italian cuisine. We neared the entrance, watching customers leave in overwhelming satisfaction (and guilt) as they lugged their leftovers happily along with them.

Inside now, the cold at our backs, we squeezed closer together down the narrow pathway, through the market—shelved with cans of tomato paste, sauce, anchovies, olives, olive oil, wine, handmade noodles and gnocchi, cookies, candy, meats, cheeses, and bread. The obtrusive, fishy odor of salt-cured
baccalà
overpowered our senses as we entered, even before we could make out the open barrels of dried and salted fish fillets in the far corner. For a moment we were in Italy, and I took it all in.

“This is wonderful,” I exclaimed, marveling the cluttered yet clearly structured store. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Liam grinned, “I’m glad I brought you here.”

“Me too.”
I was so absorbed in my
surroundings,
I fell behind as the line continued moving forward.

The people behind us were slightly annoyed—clearly hungry and impatient—as Liam gave me a slight nudge to help ease the tension that was forming.

“Oops.”

Liam suddenly pulled me closer. I turned and it seemed this time I had been blocking the path to the exit—a large Italian family was about to stampede through me, and filed past with slight annoyance, tempered by satiety.

“It’s a little crowded in here.”

“Yeah, it’s always this busy.” Liam continued to hold his grip on me so I wasn’t more than an inch away. His hands were strong and ice cold. I shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“No,” he replied, “I’m actually warm now that we’re inside. Why, are you?”

“No I’m fine…it’s just, well, your hands are like ice.”

“Really?”
He put his hands to his cheek. “Oh, you’re right. I haven’t noticed.”

“Table for two?”

I turned, to find a middle-aged lady with a hard face, stocky build, and careworn eyes impatiently waiting for us.

“Yes,” Liam answered.

“Follow me.” She turned and briskly walked, heavily on her right leg, toward a side table. We sat down across from each other on lacquered wooden chairs with vinyl seat cushions. The square table was covered with a red and white checkered cloth. A candle flickered in the center of the table from within a bulbous jar. The hostess handed us each a large laminated menu and left. Her hard presence left me slightly perturbed.

The menu was simple in its bold red headings and easy-to-follow structure, but complex in its newness.

“The pizza is really good here,” Liam said.
He must’ve heard my soft sigh as I scanned the menu
, I thought. He recognized my hesitation, noticing my little inflections when I couldn’t make a decision.

“Really?
Hmmm, how big is it?”

“They only have one size, medium, so if you’d like we can split a pizza.”

“Okay.” I looked back at the pizza section of the menu and frowned. “Which one should we get?”

“Well, I’m partial to the Vegetarian, but we can get something else if you’d like.”

“No, the Vegetarian sounds good.” I was just relieved I didn’t have to sit and painstakingly try to choose between all the delicious toppings.

“Would you like anything to drink besides water?”

I glanced at the price for the Vegetarian pizza and answered, “No, I’m fine with just the water.” I wanted a diet coke but I didn’t want Liam to pay for it.

He looked at me questioningly, but didn’t push it.

He decided we should get the half carafe of Chianti to share.

After he placed our order, we sat, drowning out the chaos around us—drunken laughter, slurps of pasta, babies crying, and our stomachs grumbling—with our own chatter. My hands were comfortably folded on the table when he carefully reached over, enveloping one of my hands in his. There our hands stayed until our bubbling pizza arrived.

My mouth watered as Liam cut the pieces and placed one large slice on my plate. The cheese was slightly browned and the crust crackled underneath, indicating a perfectly cooked pizza. I doused it in red pepper flakes and used a knife and fork to cut into the thick-crust pizza topped with bell peppers, onions, black olives, mushrooms, and oozing with cheese that bubbled from the intense heat of the wood fired oven. Each bite filled my mouth with intense flavor, calming my nerves, and filling my stomach with satisfaction.

Liam’s mouth curved into a wide and satisfied grin as he happily watched my growing enjoyment with each bite.

“I love to watch you eat.”

“Huh?” Liam caught me mid-bite. “Oh,” I said as I realized how absorbed I was in my meal.

“No, don’t be self-conscious. You enjoy your food so much; it makes me feel good to watch you eat. I’m glad you aren’t like most girls who pick at their food and just order a side salad with no dressing.”