Sophie's Smile: A Novel (24 page)

Itchy Bonsai (6:19:55 PM): well, I admire that you have stuck with your school. It shows that you are a strong person

Pinkie16 (6:20:09 PM): I guess…

Itchy Bonsai (6:22:16 PM): I wish I wouldn’t have fallen off the turnip truck for 3 years, but at least I gained a lot better understanding of myself and my goals.

Pinkie16 (6:24:32 PM): well I think it’s great that you came back and you have a goal and know what you want to do, and you’re working to reach your goal, because a lot of people have no clue.

Itchy Bonsai (6:24:59 PM): thank you for saying that

33

Finally, it was Friday. I was lucky enough to see Sophie between her
BioChem
lab and my
Chem
lecture. We decided to meet on one of the large, concrete blocks along library walk. I bought two small coffees at one of the carts before heading over.

It was easy to spot her. Even though there are a lot of Asian girls at this school, I could always single out her shining smile and watchful eyes in a crowd—masked by a pair of black-framed sunglasses, those eyes seemed to be always fixed on something. You could always count on her brain to be in the “on” position, always turning, thinking,
contemplating
.

I reached her now. Her sparkling almond eyes met mine, and light creases marked her delicate face around the eyes and lips; bubbling joy filled my soul and lit a fire in my step. The moment we hugged and enveloped each other in a soft embrace, all I saw, all I felt, all I cared about, was Sophie—
my Sophie
.

Climbing onto one of the cement blocks, she tucked her legs under her chin and nursed her coffee as we began to discuss the day.

She sighed, “I’m not sure what I’m going to do next year after I graduate. Everyone is applying for grad school and worrying about acceptance letters, tests, and essays. It gets me thinking you know…about the future.”

She let out a soft laugh, trying to hide her nerves. She was deep in thought.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it now, especially if you’re not planning to go to graduate school next year. You can take next year to think about it more once school is over.”

“Yea,” she mused, “Do you have any plans once you graduate?”

“Well, that won’t be for a while.” I hated feeling behind and incompetent.

“Yea, I know…but you’re planning to go to graduate school after, right?”

I contemplated this briefly, “Yes,” I said carefully, “But, I’m not sure if I’ll go directly once I finish here, or where that would be…right now it can only be hypothetical.”

She quietly sipped her coffee as she brooded over my vague answer. “I was just thinking, you know, hypothetically, if we were still together in three years or so after you graduate, what we would do if you got in somewhere far away.”

Her statement surprised me. “Oh, well if that was the case, I don’t expect you to follow me or anything. We would just have to see what happens, I guess.”

“Yea.”
She was quiet again. Unfortunately, time ran out and I had to get to my next class.

“I’ll see you later tonight, okay?”

“Yes. I’m looking forward to it.”

Sophie smiled now, a smile more forced then sincere. We would have to talk more about her questions later. But at the moment, I had to direct my attention toward my Chemistry professor;
I can’t mess up my chances the second time around.

34

Sophie seemed more at ease tonight. I decided to treat her to some Indian cuisine at the Star of India. I’d been making it my quest to take her to different and interesting places, and to shower her with new and pleasant experiences. Partly to show her what she’d been missing, and partly to show her how much I could offer and provide.

I felt pleased as I watched her carefully examine the vibrant and gaudy room, take in the spicy fragrances, and exasperatingly look over the foreign menu—sending me pleading looks for guidance and suggestion. She sure tickled me.

“Do you like curry?”

“Well, I like Korean curry.” Smiling, she continued, “I would like to taste the curry here, though,” she said with a slight hesitation.

“How spicy do you want it?”

“Medium?”

“That’s probably smart. We can share one if you’d like, the portions are usually large and if you decide you don’t like it we can always go somewhere else. We should also get an order of garlic
naan
.
Naan
is really good. It’s kind of like the Indian version of pita bread”

“
Mmm
. Okay. That sounds yummy.”

Enjoying our savory meal of
Bengan
Bhartha
(eggplant curry) and a side of warm,
pillowy
garlic
naan
, we continued the conversation we had on campus.

I took a sip of my lemon water, cleared my throat, and casually steered the conversation back to our discussion at the blocks.

“I was thinking after we spoke this morning that I may have come across as being against long distance relationships.” Keeping my eyes on hers, I continued, “then I was thinking that I didn’t want you to extrapolate that to OUR future…I’m kind of weird like that, always thinking of hypotheticals.” She continued to stare, slowly absorbing my words, carefully thinking them over, “Anyway, I wanted to make it clear to you that I’m committed to you and in no way wish to hold you back from your life path, and at the same time I want to be there for you, even if sometime in the near future we end up in different schools, or cities.”

With that long-winded speech, she stared, her eyes stunned, her lips pressed into a thin line, and then, after a few seconds to make sense of what I said, she spoke, “Well, I never thought you were against long distance relationships,” she paused when I let out a breath of relief, “but, I guess you should know that I am against long distance relationships.”

“Oh,” my mind raced trying to think of what she meant, and what this meant for us.

She must have noticed the hint of confused sadness in my voice because her voice softened, “What I mean is, I don’t agree with long distance relationships. I don’t think they work and I would never want to be in one…of course, I could see myself trying if it was with you, but even then, I would be hesitant to move forward if that was our only option.”

“Yes, of course I would want to try, too.”

“Yes, well, I don’t see myself going away to grad school, or any extra school for that matter, after UCSD. And,” she blushed, “if we’re still together when the year is over, I’ll most likely look for a job in San Diego so I can stay near you.”

I sat there, staring at her in awe, as her words went straight to my heart. I was glad to be sitting—my bones instantly turned to jelly. And then my joy turned to skepticism.

“Wow, Sophie. But if you got offered a great opportunity or a chance to showcase your talents, I would urge you to go after it, wherever that might be. I would miss you, of course, but I wouldn’t want you sacrificing anything for me,” I insisted, even though I couldn’t help but hope she would never have to leave me.

“Okay, well, we’ll see. This is all just hypothetical anyways.” She didn’t seem willing to agree or disagree with me at the moment.

“Yeah.
We’ll talk about it more seriously if it ever comes around.”

“Okay.”

I was thinking about our conversation as I drove her home and I couldn’t help but smile.
She has been thinking about me, about us, about the future.
I hoped I wasn’t blind, and she actually was falling for me.

We were outside her apartment then; this moment always stung, always came too fast. I pulled her into my arms and held her there for a moment, long enough to smell the sweetness of her shampoo, the scent of powder on her face, and feel the warmth that exuded from her body. Then, tilting her face up, I placed my mouth over hers, lightly so not to frighten her. She startled me by pressing back. For the first time I felt the urgency of her kiss, the heat flew from her mouth to mine, lingering there until I felt the tremor of her body and the burning from mine.

“You can’t kiss me like that and not let me in,” I said, my voice thick with desire.

As if I were in a dream, she cocked her head, smirked, and pulled me toward the door by the hem of my shirt.
It really must be a dream.

I entered her apartment quietly, trying not to wake Tiffany; that is, until Sophie giggled, “Tiff’s not here. She’s at Ethan’s.”

“Oh, is that so,” my eyebrows lifted as I tried to analyze for any hidden meaning in Sophie’s message, but I couldn’t think clearly and decided to just fly from the gut-down on this one. I clicked my brain into standby mode as I followed her down the hall.

Dun-Da-Da-Dah!
The moment had finally arrived…she led me to her room. Her space fascinated me: the posters of art, design, and fashion taped up carefully, methodically, covering the glass panes on her wall; textbooks neatly stacked on her desk; the chair she sat on when she wrote to me on instant messenger; the mirror that hung by the door where she gazed before each date; and then there was the bed—low and small, covered with light pink sheets, blanket, and pillow—where she rested her head each night and dreamed, hopefully of me.

The bed was inviting, and my limbs twitched in response. I turned to her now. She stood a few feet away from me, timid. All the teasing and urgency vanished, and she stood there, carefully watching me. Oh, how I would love to listen to her thoughts.

I decided to test her, moving closer, never taking my eyes off her. She sucked in a breath. I took that as my invitation and reached for her. My shaking hands nurtured the small of her back as I caressed her with my lips. Heat bellowed in my chest and I yearned for more, I wanted more. She
gasped,
her hands trembled as she grabbed my hips for balance. I crushed her lips with mine as I felt her give back. She gave into me, and I was dizzy with the intensity of it.

I led her to the bed, gently. This time I would be more careful, considerate of her naivety, and most of all, I wanted to make her feel everything I was feeling and more. I wanted to fill her with the desire that I felt every time I thought of her. Every time I looked at her. I wanted to show her that she still had the ability to feel good without losing her virginity.

I unclasped her bra and the urgency unraveled inside me. I felt lucky, honored, and even smug, that out of all the guys that crossed her path, I was the only one she allowed into her bed, allowed to touch her, kiss her, and see all of her.

35

It was the day before Valentine’s Day. I laid out everything I purchased on my bed, carefully arranging each item inside a small wicker basket. I winced, remembering all the trouble I had at the mall today. Shaking my head, I thought:
Sophie has me going to Fashion Valley, into a sanctuary of all-things-girly, to shop for her
. I was grinning like a four year old boy whose dad was about to take him to his first Padres game, opening day.

Sophie’s worth it.
Worth everything and anything.

The day was long and tiring. I took a Physics quiz and then headed straight for the mall. I decided to get her some perfume—a scent we’d both enjoy—sort of like my version of a hickie, I mused, showing the world, elegantly, that she belonged to me. Smell is a powerful tool. It captures and provokes memories, good or bad, and can also captivate someone, put them under a spell.