Sophie's Smile: A Novel (32 page)

“That’s cool,” I said nonchalantly, “I’ll love anything you got me. But, a man like me needs at least twelve chains.”

With that, we started to crack up. I could feel disgruntled eyes poke me from all directions, but for the first time it didn’t bother me. It felt good, revitalizing the spirit. With Sophie’s hand entwined in mine, it was easy to succumb to a state of relaxation.

I drifted off to sleep, thinking about the gold band that was safely stored in my suitcase, as we were thousands of feet up in the air.

51

After a few hours of walking in (and summarily out) of door after door of some of the finest jewelers in the city, looking at, what seemed like hundreds of sparkling gems, hassling with men in snazzy suits of varying quality and fit, and then speaking relentlessly to their managers, I was angry and fed-up.

The diamonds they brought out—I won’t name any names, but the big-name stores that you generally hear ads for on the drive over to work—were crap. The cut was standard or subpar, the color was off—unless it was under the special lighting they conveniently and strategically placed around the store—and the clarity was dull. It wasn’t until I stepped into the small diamond boutique in Old Town—I remembered noticing it on our date there, since it was conveniently located across from Café Cristobal—that I felt understood and confident.

The area was small but inviting; their display was impressive and slightly understated. The assistant was hassle-free and helpful. The woman who helped me was probably in her late 30s, business-like with her hair slicked back into a secure bun, a rich navy blue suit with gray lapel, and gray heels to match. She was well put together and eyed me eagerly, not ready to pounce, but hopeful and prepared.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, I’m in search of the perfect diamond for this gold band,” I pulled out the tiny box to show the band.

“That’s lovely, is it an heirloom?”

“Yes, my
great-grandmother’s
.” Good, she seemed intelligent enough.

“I’m sure we can find you something.”

“Thanks, and just so you are aware,” the lady halted before continuing her stride toward the back room, “I just came from a few different jewelers and am a bit peeved and frustrated, so I’m sorry in advance if I’m a little irritated and impatient.”

Her smile was slow and wide, a bit smug, when she replied, “I understand completely. Don’t
worry,
you came to the right place.”

And apparently I did, because the five diamonds she selected had a higher degree of clarity and superior color over any of the other ones I saw. I took my time scrutinizing each one. Going back and forth, looking for any flaws that I could see with the naked eye. She even let me view my final selection outside, in the natural light, so I could confirm its clarity and fire.

I finally picked the third one—it sparkled even in the dark, the color was so clear and white—it was perfect. It mesmerized me.
Just like my Sophie does
.

52

Although the ring, which carved out three-quarters of my credit card limit, was securely stowed in my fireproof safe, I felt uneasy. I contemplated opening up a safe deposit box at the bank but even that was unnerving. The only solution was to get the ring on Sophie’s finger as soon as possible.
But first things first.

I paced back and forth across the wooden floorboards, thinking, planning, hyperventilating, and trying desperately to acquire enough courage to pick up the dang phone.

Last night, when I got home from the jewelers, Dad was cooking dinner. I waited until after Dad plated the crispy corn shells stuffed with fried fish and coleslaw to show him the ring. Eying the ring and then me and then looking back at the ring, he panicked. Before speaking, he rose from his chair, opened the fridge, removed a can of beer, and came back to the table. After chugging a good amount, he started to shake his head (not the reaction I had hoped for).

“Dad, I love Sophie, you know that.”

“I know,” he sighed, “but isn’t it too soon? You haven’t even experienced your first fight yet.”

Obviously, the sting from his own experience was clouding his judgment. He picked up the cooled taco and was about to take a bite, paused, and then set it back onto the plate, opting for another swig of beer instead. This conversation hindered his appetite.

“Not everyone fights.” Dad glanced at me skeptically. “Sophie and I are different. We talk through things. We don’t hold anything back.”

Dad sighed and headed back to the kitchen to throw away the uneaten fish taco. Washing the dirty dishes, he was avoiding continuing the conversation. He was avoiding me.

He wasn’t giving in. His experience was still too vivid, too painful. He loved Sophie, but his inability to trust women was hindering him from providing me with the support I needed. I knew he had issues with women in the past, but he needed to understand that Sophie was the only one for me; it didn’t matter how long we waited; it was forever with her. So what was the point of delaying the inevitable?

Without thinking it through, I picked up the phone and punched in the numbers scrawled on a torn page of O-
Chem
notes. After two rings, a man picked up, his voice—once familiar—seemed threatening somehow, and I froze.

“Hello? Liam? Is that you?”

Damn caller ID
. I cleared my voice a couple times before I could speak, “Yes, sir. Hello Mr. Park, this is Liam.”

“Hi Liam,” there was a pause, “is something wrong?” his voice thick with concern.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong.” In the distance I heard a sigh of relief. “I—I just have something important that I would like to discuss with you and your wife…and I was wondering if you both were free sometime soon to meet me for breakfast or lunch. I could drive up to see you both whenever and wherever
is
most convenient.”

I let out a deep breath.

“Liam, is there something you just want to tell us over the phone?”

“No, I would much rather talk about it in person. It’s important.”

“Okay. Then we’ll come down to see you…say Tuesday?”

“Are you sure, I don’t mind driving up.”

“No, you have school to worry about. Just email me the time and place and we’ll be there.”

Before I had a chance to thank him he added, “You know
,
it would just save us both a lot of time if we just talked about it over the phone.”

“No, please, Mr. Park. This is important to me.”

He chuckled, “Okay.”

~ Sophie ~

53

Spring quarter was a bit of a blur. Spending every available moment with Liam—studying, walking to our spot at Lake Murray, sleeping in, cuddling, discussing life and our future—we became inseparable, especially now that we lived together. Tiff still occupied the master bedroom upstairs, which was fine since she spent most of her time over at Ethan's while trying to land various modeling gigs that caught her fancy.

When Liam moved, I moved. When I was quiet, he offered his undivided attention so that he could mend my woes and discomfort. When he held my hand, I held his. If my hand wasn't held, my body was.

Friends and family all looked to us in awe, as well as annoyance. If they asked for one, they received both. Our relationship came easy—no hardships or unpleasant discourse, no petty fights or jealous outbreaks—it just worked. It was simple and it was beautiful, like a sunrise that glows above the clear horizon, overlooking a calm and
crystal lake
, rising slow and steady without fail each and every morning.

Some people climb mountains—walk over rough terrain, cross a choppy river, trudge through dense brush and over unsteady boulders—just to catch a glimpse of this natural and daily occurrence. But for us, we saw it each and every day in the comfort of our own home, entwined in each other, restful, and happy.

It was no wonder that on this glorious day, when the sun rose steady and sure, the question arose.

After a long and delightful night, we awoke in bed. Smiles planted on our faces, groggy from sleep. A thin layer of sweat gluing us together, crammed in the center of the bed as if we had to share amongst a family of six. We were rested and happy.

Liam turned to his side so he could kiss me. I kissed him back five, six, ten times. I couldn’t get enough of his sweet kisses.

“How many do you think that is?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled, “How many kisses?”

“Yeah, do you think we made it to a million yet?”

I grinned, replying, “It must be a million.” I collapsed onto him, continuing to shower him with a few more kisses, just to make sure.

If breakfast at Seaport Village was offered past ten o’clock, and their Hawaiian French toast was on par with that of Denny’s, we would’ve slept until the sun began to set. Scrambling to get dressed, we arrived at a quarter to ten, barely making it for the French toast—Hawaiian bread covered in gooey batter and grilled to perfection, layered with toasted coconut, bananas, powdered sugar and doused with a heavy spoonful of mango papaya syrup—and a steaming cup of their house Kona coffee.

The setting was perfect: sail boats lining the docks, light glimmering onto the never-ending blue water, and birds singing overhead. We sipped our coffee, ate in bliss, and were enrapt in each other's presence.

It seemed like any other glorious Sunday morning. Liam making sure I was fed and happy.
Me
, stealing sweet kisses every chance I got.
The two of us deep in thought, relaxed in bliss, and enjoying today, enjoying now.

Leaving now, to where I assumed would be the comforts of our place—specifically the privacy of the bathroom (the coffee was kicking in for its morning ritual)—I leaned back to enjoy the drive. To my surprise, we weren't heading toward the apartment but Liam turned his Volvo toward the lake instead.

“Where are we going?” I asked, nervous, feeling the slight shift of my stomach contents.

“Oh, I thought it would be a nice day for a walk. Don’t you agree?”

“Um, yes it is a nice morning.”

I sighed, it was a beautiful morning and I would love to go on a walk, if only, the urgency to use the restroom wasn’t so dire. I would hold it. I had to—the thought of using the public outhouses left me in chills. Could there be anything more unsavory than being enclosed in that blue rectangular box?

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” I don't know why I fibbed. It wasn’t like I was ashamed, it was only natural. Plus, we’d already experienced each other’s unsightly behaviors and smelled the gas that passed late in the night.

Looking at him now, his smiling face, carefully watching the road and the light morning traffic before him, my heart fluttered. Subconsciously I knew that he would be disappointed if we wasted this beautiful morning by not taking a stroll along our lake. What’s a little discomfort when I could give him this moment?

We walked to our normal spot—off the beaten path, slightly out of view, and private. Liam pulled me into the warmth of his body, effortlessly, and held me there, enjoying the beauty of our surroundings and the smell of the water, trees, and fresh air.