Chapter 6
SIX
“Baby girl! You— you’re glowing!” Sophie’s mother pulled her into a shockingly fierce hug, warm copper skin and bountiful, bouncing waves enveloping Sophie and her cello at the same time.
“I’m so glad to be home!” Sophie cried. Thanksgiving break was criminally short in her mother’s opinion, only lasting from Wednesday night until Sunday night.
“I’m so glad you’re back! This place felt so lonely without you!”
“Missed your hugs! Oh my gosh, I didn’t even know how bad I missed your hugs!” Sophie let her cello fall with a gentle thunk and swayed in her mother’s embrace. “Where’s Daddy?”
“On his way home now. He was sure he would beat you here. I told him he wasn’t leaving enough time.” Her mother smirked.
“What did you two bet on?” Sophie chuckled, slipping out of her puffy plum-colored coat.
“He has to wash the turkey pan. Ha!”
“When will Uncle Darryl get here?”
“It’s Aunt Izzy’s year to host and they’re taking the meal to the nursing home so her grandma can be present. Are you upset? It’s the dementia ward so they’re keeping it limited to a small number.”
“I’m not upset, believe me.” Her forced interactions with her pseudo-cousins were a painful thrice-yearly activity that she didn't love or hate. Her goofy Uncle Darrell and her sassy, stylish Aunt Izzy were another story. She absolutely loved them. “Aren’t we going to get together at all?”
Her mom grinned. “You know they missed their favorite niece. They’ll be here on Friday for pie and coffee. Where’s your suitcase?”
“Here,” Sophie laughed, poking her bulky black backpack. “You didn’t sell my clothes and the stuff in my room, did you?”
“No, it’s been made into a shrine. Offerings of microwave popcorn and strawberry yogurt are made daily,” rumbled a deep voice behind her.
“Daddy!”
“My Sophie!” The lion roared over his cub, swinging her around as she squealed into his arms. Putting her down after a moment, Samuel Usman tilted his head and gazed at his little girl grown up. “You look different.”
His wife burrowed into his embrace, giving him an armful of family on each side. “She looks happy, Sam.”
“Oh, guys. Stop. Don’t go all Hallmark on me.
” Sophie blushed and pushed gently out of the smothering embrace, but it was too late.
Her mother was tearing up and her father was puffing out his chest and making shushing sounds while trying not to cry himself.
“You two are ridiculous. I need to go to the bathroom. I refused to use the toll plaza pit stops.” Sophie dragged her cello and book bag to the sanctity of her room.
It was untouched. Actually, it was better than untouched, it was hotel-room ready, all of her stuff was still in her semi-organized piles and stacks, but the whole place smelled of lavender laundry soap and fresh vacuuming.
Compared to her dorm in Pettiford, her family’s modest apartment was palatial. The bed was sure a lot better. The bathroom could wait another five minutes.
With a gleeful giggle, Sophie threw herself back onto her bed and made a comforter-angel, reveling in the fact that she actually had space to sprawl.
Although it didn’t have one increasingly important thing....
I made it safe. Her fingers tapped the screen.
Jesse: Good. I didn’t want to call if you were driving.
How’s your mom?
Jesse: Good. Making pie.
She laughed again, typing, I have to go help with that in a minute. It’s traditional that we all stress ourselves out trying to cook the bird and two pies in the same tiny oven in one day.
Jesse: I should have come with you. That’s gotta be a good show.
Her fingers hesitated. You can come if you want.
There was a long delay between her invite and his next massage. She freshened up and retrieved her plushy slippers from under the foot of the bed. Just as she was slipping the phone into her back pocket, she heard the familiar chime.
Jesse: I wish I could.
Jesse: Love you.
Sophie sat down hard on the padded ladder back chair in her room, the one her family referred to as “the cello chair”.
Love you. Love you.
He’d never said that before. She’d never said that before.
More and more, as their kisses intensified and their nights together grew longer, she ached to say it.
Argh! She was leaving him hanging.
“MOM!”
“What? What?” her mother plowed through the door, her apron bunched up over her neck as if she’d been in the act of pulling it on. “What’s wrong?”
“Jesse texted me. He said he loves me. I— What do I say?”
“What’s wrong?” her father was hot on her mother’s heels, still unbuttoning his navy blue uniform shirt.
“Sam... girl issues! Go!”
“I’m gone!” her father ran, shutting the door firmly behind him.
“Thank you.” Sophie gripped her mother’s hand gratefully. “He’s probably panicking. If I said I loved him and he didn’t say anything, I’d be losing it.”
“Tell him thank you. Thank you is polite and it won’t hurt his feelings.”
Sophie said nothing.
“Do you want to tell him something else?” her mother asked, eyes flickering curiously.
“Don’t you think it’s too soon? Our first real ‘date’ was November 1st and it was more as friends.”
“It’ll be December 1st on Sunday. You’ve dated for close to a month.”
Sophie bit her lip. Her mother was very good at this when she wanted to be. She was pointing things out by stating them as facts without any hint of approval or disapproval.
The phone on the bed chirped.
Jesse: I’m sorry.
Instinctively, she grabbed her phone and held it tight, fingers hovering over the digital buttons under the glass. “When did you know you loved Dad?”
Her mother’s eyes went far away for a minute. “When he tried to speak Armenian on our third date. He tried to tell me I was beautiful and that he was honored to be in my company. It didn’t come out right.”
“Jesse is different. But he’s the same as me. I don’t know how to describe it to you.”
“He looks like you.”
Sophie nodded in the waiting silence that followed. She didn’t know what else to say about that without dragging up years of anxiety. So much of it vanished around Jesse.
“Is that all it is?”
“No! He’s smart and he’s funny. He’s easy to talk to.
We drove down to Hershey to see a hockey game.
” Her mother made a muted yelp. “I know, it’s hours away and yes, he drove, and no, he didn’t try anything.
He bought me a Lumberjacks jersey and a bar of chocolate as big as my head.
He sings along to the radio. The cello is his second favorite instrument.
See?? That’s why I like him, if he were just trying to impress me, he would have said it was his favorite.
But it isn’t. He likes acoustic guitar the best, but he doesn’t know how to play.
He works hard. He thinks I’m funny.” A deep breath.
“He’s a junior and he already found out he has a genetic disorder that makes him infertile.
Maybe I have it, too. And do you know what he did? ”
Her mother shook her head, lips clamped shut.
“He told me right away, as soon as we went from being casual acquaintances on the same campus to being people who ‘date.’ Just in case it mattered. He says I’m gorgeous and I deserve better and he doesn’t believe in getting too physically serious. I think Dad would like that.”
The phone lit up in her hand. Jesse: I’m sorry if I ruined it. I just wanted to tell you, because I do.
Sophie wordlessly held out the phone.
“Love can lead to mistakes. Love itself is not a mistake.” Her mother rose, her short frame moving with a grace that made her seem much taller and more regal. “I think you love this boy, at least as a friend. Maybe he is not your future, but he is your present.”
“Gift,” Sophie whispered. It might sound trite, but meeting him had been a gift. She hadn’t felt alone. It was better than just being accepted, better than forcing herself to fit in. Natural.
“I have to go, sweetheart. That pie crust won’t make itself. Come help me in a few minutes?”
“Sure. In a few minutes.” Sophie smiled up as her mother squeezed her shoulder. The second she left the room, the phone flipped screen-side up into her eager fingers. She punched the phone symbol next to Jesse’s number.
He answered on the first ring and began speaking at full speed.
“Sophie! Oh, God. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.
That was stupid and confusing. I'm sure that counts as a mixed signal after the other things I've told you. Wait, wait, hear me out.” Jesse’s voice rose as if he expected to speak over her.
“It's just something I wanted to say. You can take it for whatever you like and if you're done, or whenever we're done— you'll know that that's how I felt about you. Feel about you.”
Sophie waited to make sure the torrent of words had been stemmed. “Can I talk now?”
“Yes. Sure. Sorry.” Jesse spat out words like nervous bullets.
“Okay, first off, Happy Thanksgiving Eve.”
He laughed softly, a short, feeble sound. “Happy Thanksgiving Eve to you.”
“I got your text.”
“Sophie, I—”
“My turn, remember!” Sophie let out a shallow breath, her stomach knotting. She hadn’t known she would ever say these words, let alone say them tonight. “My mother says love is never a mistake.”
“I think I like your mother,” Jesse murmured.
“She's pretty awesome.” Sophie smiled fondly at the framed family photo on her dresser. “Maybe one day you'll get to meet her.”
Jesse’s voice came over the line so softly that even with her freaky hearing, Sophie had to strain to hear the words at first. His incredulous voice was full of relief. “I didn’t blow it. I didn’t blow it, did I? Not completely?”
“Not at all. I don’t know how you meant it, exactly, but... I love you, too.” To her credit, her voice didn’t crack, although she thought the plastic case on her phone might have sustained a bit of damage from her clenching fingers. “I love that I met you. I love when we’re together.”
“Love that, too,” Jesse whispered.
After half a minute’s silence, Sophie asked, “Are you okay?”
“I— This might sound dumb to you—”