Sophie's Smile: A Novel (31 page)

The next day wasn’t so good. He was in a lot of pain—he seemed to hurt all over. Grandma upped his dosage to help soothe the excruciating pain (Grandpa normally had a high tolerance for pain). The painkillers eventually took over and luckily he was able to sleep for the rest of the day.

The following day was his last. He must’ve sensed it, too, because he requested to see everyone individually. It took almost the entire day. Starting with Mom and ending with Grandma.

With me, he only said a few words, but they were enough. They came out in staccato fashion, “Don’t wait. Marry her. Sorry. I love you.”
Each breath haggard and drawn out from his weary lungs.

“Don’t be sorry. I love you, Grandpa.”

I left before he could see my tears, and I hurriedly locked myself in the blue room to wallow alone. Once the dry heaves settled and the tears stopped flowing I thought about his words:

“Don’t wait.”

“Marry her.”

“Sorry.”

“I love you.”

Don’t wait for what?
For life to pass me by?
He wanted me to marry Sophie, but wasn’t it too early?
Sorry.
Why was he sorry?
Because he didn’t have a chance to meet Sophie, or because he wouldn’t be there for my wedding?
Why was he worrying about these things when he should focus his energy entirely on trying to get better?
Miracles do happen, right?
They must.

When I got out of the room, it was a quarter to nine. Grandpa’s door was ajar and I could hear soft moans and sobs. The noises sounded strange to my ears, as if they weren’t human. My heart stopped; the lump in my throat returned, and so did the knot in my stomach. It happened so fast. He was here one moment and then he was gone.

Grandma was resting her head on his hands, her eyes closed, her heart pried open. There she stayed, still, eyes completely dry and
closed,
as if she was locked in a trance…she was saying her final goodbyes.

After I regained composure, I gave in and called Sophie. I needed her and I wished she had come. Mostly, I wished Grandpa could have met her. A part of me knew this would become one of my biggest regrets.

“I’m coming.”

“What? No,
it’s
okay really, just stay there.”

“No, I’m coming,” she said firmly.

“Okay.” How could I say no when my heart wanted her near? I hesitated. “This isn’t going to be the best time to meet my family for the first time.”

“I know. That’s okay. I want to be there for you. I want to be there to comfort you and hold you.”

“I love you, Sophie.”

“I know you do, because I love you, too.”

49

Everyone was already busy getting the funeral arrangements in order and the invitations sent. Grandma had already made all the necessary arrangements months ago; all we had to do was make the final calls, mail out the pre-posted invites, and wait. The date was set for this Saturday so I wouldn’t have to miss my first week of Spring Quarter. I felt guilty somehow, like I was a burden.

My aunts were slightly annoyed by Sophie coming when we would be in the middle of all the chaos, but they were only worried about their mom, who, by all means seemed thrilled. If she was concerned, she didn’t show it.

In a way it helped her displace her grief. And I think she was more worried about my feelings than hers. She saw me at my lowest point and she would have given anything to make sure I never felt that much pain again. I promised myself that I would never get that low again, and having Sophie with me, I knew I would be able to keep that promise.

According to my watch, Sophie would be stepping out of the building any minute now. Anxiously I
waited,
jumping anytime man, woman, or child exited the doors. Finally, Sophie stepped out into view. A surge of emotions flew through me. She was the love of my life, and I just wanted to get down on one knee right there and ask her to join me for as long as we both shall live.

She smiled her enchanting smile when she caught my eyes, and she ran over to meet me in a long embrace. We kissed, warm and light, but with enough feeling to make the people around us uncomfortable. When we finally parted, I grabbed her carry-on and then her hand.

“How are you?” she asked. Worry lined her soothing eyes.

“I’m
okay,
I guess…it’s hard.”

She nodded, “Yes, I know.”

“I’m glad you’re here though.”

“Me too.
I missed you.”

“I think I’m spoiled from all the time we spent together. The more I spend time with you the more I miss you when we’re apart.”

“I know
,
I feel the same way.”

I looked at the house, and then back at her, “Are you ready?”

“Yes…I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be, they’re all excited to meet you.” I almost convinced myself.

“Okay.”

Grandma must have noticed the car, because she was already standing by the door, regal as ever.

“Grandma, this is my girlfriend, Sophie. Sophie, this is my grandmother.”

“Hello,” Sophie’s shy small voice came out in a whisper.

“Hi, Sophie.
It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

After embracing Sophie with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek, she scooted us inside to the comfort of the hearth-warmed house.

Sophie greeted everyone as the day went on, as people were coming in and out, going every which way, hurriedly planning for the funeral. I wished they would just sit and rest for a bit and get to know Sophie, but I guess that would have to wait for a more opportune time.

“Um, Mrs. Baker?”

“Yes my darling?” Grandma glanced up from scrubbing the tiled kitchen countertop, which she diligently did after preparing a meal.

“I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” Sophie said quietly as she handed her a sealed pink envelope.

“Thank you, my dear,” Grandma tucked the envelope into her apron pocket, “I’ll read this later.”

“Okay.”

Grandma left swiftly, avoiding the tears that seemed to sneak up on her by Sophie’s kind gesture.

Grandma later showed me the card that was sealed in the pink envelope, and the note that was written inside:

Dearest Mrs. Baker, a.k.a. Liam’s Beloved Grandmother,

I offer you all my sympathy and love. Although I have not had the pleasure of meeting your husband, I have been blessed with meeting his grandson and the stories he has shared with me of the two of you.

Stories and spirit live on when the body, itself, passes…and the look in Liam’s eyes, when he recounts
the
 
memories
of his grandfather and grandmother, says it all.

Michael Baker was a great man, loved by many, and respected by all. He knew how to live life and how to love his family. He cherished everything that mattered most in life and looked after and cared for his most valuable and precious treasure…his loving wife.

He shall be truly missed but he shall always be remembered and loved. Although I will never personally have the pleasure of knowing what a great man your husband was, I am glad that I will still have the pleasure of meeting you. From everything that Liam has mentioned, I already knew that you are also one of a kind…an amazing woman and a wonderful grandmother.

You love unconditionally, supportively, and are a perfectionist, just like
Liam
J
.

Liam is very lucky to have such wonderful grandparents.

With love and sympathy,

Sophie Park

50

The funeral was lovely and heartfelt. Flowers lined the inner walls and available openings. The scent was so overpowering that it became sickly sweet rather than pleasant. The constant flow of air from the air conditioner felt eerie against my raised skin, as if spirits were floating past, my grandfather among them.

Silence, the most overpowering factor, created a unified discomfort; at times, I almost burst out in a fit of laughter. It hurt so much I didn’t know what else to do. Unconscious release of hysteria is normal during situations of uncomfortable distress or hardship, only to others it usually sounds like momentary shrills of sadness. But luckily, I was too anxious for that.

The room was filled with many friends, family, ex-co-workers, and my Sophie. She held my hand through it all, sat by me, clung to my side as I wept, from the time
Ave Maria
belted from the speakers to the closing of
Amazing Grace
.

It must have been awkward but she didn’t show any hesitation or discomfort by the situation and setting. Even when I walked her up to the stage where Grandpa rested, introducing her for the first and last time to him, face-to-face, she smiled softly and gripped my hand.

The eerie sense I received from looking down upon the open casket unnerved me. His face and hands seemed flattened and leathery. The makeup created a façade that simulated life, but the body remained lifeless and distant. This wasn’t my grandfather. He was gone.

I realized then that my family was also gone.

The ceremony and reception was lovely and the mood, although somber, was calm and not filled with the normal quiet tension that leaves me drained and disheartened. Not to say that I wasn’t glad to be on a plane with Sophie, headed home.

While we were an hour or so into our flight, I jokingly asked, “Do you like yellow gold or white gold?”

Sophie tilted her head, slightly confused for a moment before playing along, “I like white gold better, but it depends.”

“
Mmm
,” I said jokingly, tapping a finger against my chin. I turned back into my lumpy chair, adjusting my watch.

When I didn’t expand on the subject, she nudged, “Why?”

“Oh,” leaning back against the headrest with my eyes closed, “I was just thinking about getting you a gaudy 18-karat gold necklace…actually, like six of them and a pair of nugget earrings to match.” Taking a sideways glance, my lips were itching to crack.

“
Ewww
,” she squealed in hideous delight, “that sounds awful.”

I chortled, “Are you trying to imagine it?”

She seemed lost in thought, fidgeting with the seat belt.

“Yea,” she grinned, “I was also thinking about getting you a matching set.”