21. Sophie
CHAPTER 21
Sophie
“ H e said that?” Becks gasped, smacking her palms to her cheeks. She resembled none other than Van Gogh’s Scream , minus the bald head and sickly white complexion. “Really?”
I nodded, remembering how I had wriggled out from under Alex, leaped up like some crazed animal, and argued with him. How I’d told him that his feelings weren’t real, that he couldn’t possibly be in love with me—not so soon—, and that his feelings grew out of his sense of responsibility more than anything else.
Which was all extremely ironic since I had the exact same feelings for him. I was in love with Alex. I could easily imagine a life with him, where spontaneous picnics on the grass outside became a summer ritual, where lazy afternoons were spent tangled up in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing. Where we watched our future kids run amok, their giggles echoing in the house. Where we did everything together: have dinner, raise our children, go to sleep, wake up, laugh, fight, and everything in between. And not just as co-parents, but as two people who loved each other.
But instead of telling Alex all that, I turned him down, snuffing out even the smallest spark of what could have been.
“Yes,” I sighed, sinking onto the plinth. I folded over and sat with my head between my legs, staring at the linoleum floor—it needed a good sweep. “But it doesn’t matter because I fucked it up.”
“How?” asked Becks. There was a soft clatter followed by a faint squeak of wheels on the floor. When I looked up, Becks was rolling toward me in a wheelchair. “I thought you had feelings for him too. I saw it on your face at dinner the other night. The way you looked at him, the way he looked at you . . . It can’t get any more obvious, Soph. You two are meant for each other.”
I dragged my fingers down my cheeks and moaned. “You don’t know that.”
"I do," she said matter-of-factly. "It's as obvious as the fact that the wall is white. Call it fate. Serendipity. Maybe there was a reason Vicki got sick before the seminar, sent you, and you ended up sleeping with Mr. Heartthrob when you're not exactly the type of person who has one-night stands."
“Or there’s no such thing as fate,” I said, resting my chin on my fisted hands. “And this whole pregnancy was just bad luck. Like, walking-under-a-ladder kind of bad luck.”
I tried to think deeply for something that could back my theory. Spotting a black cat perhaps, or stepping on a few too many cracks, or even accidentally spilling some salt, but nothing came to mind. Maybe the whole fender bender was the start of a chain of calamities. Or maybe Becks was right, and that first encounter was the very beginning of a story that had to happen, two paths entwined by fate’s naughty hand.
“Nope, not the case. You two were meant to find each other,” she said, wheeling herself back and forth. “For the last six months, you’ve been glowing, Soph, and it’s not just the hormones. It’s that blissful look of love in your eyes. It’s so glaringly obvious even a blind person could see it.”
I smoothed my palms, which were weirdly clammy, over my thighs and took a breath in.
On the exhale, I spoke from the heart. “But what if Alex only feels this way because he thinks he should? Because it’s the right thing? What if we’re like those parents who just stay together for the sake of their children . . . What if we end up resenting each other?”
My heart was racing. Becks' blank face didn’t help the angst growing in my chest. I suddenly remembered something my dad had said to me when I was ten and in the midst of a two-day-long silent treatment of Danny. “Resentment is like a thorn in your heart, Soph,” he had said. “It grows sharper every day until it finally tears you apart.” Ten-year-old Sophie had taken it quite literally and made up with Danny before her poor heart was torn into pieces.
“Do you really believe that?” Becks asked, now doing a wheelie, the chair balancing on its rear, teetering slightly. She managed four seconds before the front wheels thudded against the floor.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I said resignedly. I leaned back on my outstretched arms and gazed down at my belly. The babies had grown from the size of a small bell pepper to roughly the size of an ear of corn. Since I was carrying two, my bump was just above average-sized. I ran my hand along the curve, a daily habit that had become almost automatic. “Alex didn’t even text back this morning when I told him about the prenatal class next week.”
“He’s upset. That’s fine. But you have to remember that your situation isn’t exactly the norm. Alex is going to be in your life whether you like it or not. And there’s going to come a time when he finds someone else if you’re not honest with him. Another woman. Do you really want that?”
Just thinking about Alex meeting another woman, smiling at her as he smiled at me, kissing her like he kissed me, made me sick to my stomach—not the kind of sick that made a person nauseous, but the kind that hits you with a mix of heat and cold, panic and flush, as if you could fight a bear and run from it too.
I concentrated on my belly and imagined there was a flutter or a kick. Even though it was still a bit early to feel a distinct jab, it always helped to calm my nerves.
“Since when did you become some relationship expert?” I asked, though without much effervescence. It was unusual for Becks to give this much relationship advice; usually, she just listened, laughed, and joked about my fairly boring love life.
“Since I’ve been married for almost four years. Very happily, for your information.” She blew out a breath, a strand of brown hair lifting off her face and landing just on the side of her eye. “I should write a fricking book.”
“You’ve missed your calling,” I joked, hoping this conversation was at an end.
But alas, Becks had other ideas. She wheeled herself closer to me—since the plinth was on the same level as the wheelchair, our knees touched. I wanted to push her away and make a run for it, but she placed her palms on my kneecaps. “You need to tell him how you really feel about him, Soph, and blame the baby hormones for your idiocy yesterday. He’ll forgive you.”
“How do you know that?”
She dropped her jaw, shook her head, and rolled her eyes like she couldn’t believe what I had just asked. “ Because ," Becks said as if I had massively disrespected her. "The man looks at you like he'd fetch you the moon if he could—"
The gym doors swung open, shaking the entire space like an earthquake. Vicki stormed in, heading straight for the hallway that led to the treatment rooms. Her hands were clenched in fists by her side, and it felt like steam was wafting off her skin. She snapped her head toward me, her blue eyes stormy, and changed the course of her direction. She was the arrow, and I was the bullseye.
“Sophie,” she said through gritted teeth. “I can’t approve an afternoon off just for a prenatal class. You know Wednesdays are group sessions. You’ll have to reschedule.” “It’s the only time I could get into the class,” I replied, standing up. “They’re fully booked for the next month—”
“I don’t care ,” Vicki shot back, her eyes narrowing, her body tense like a leopard ready to pounce. “You’ll have to find a way to schedule it after work.” Her voice rose in pitch. “That’s just how things work around here, you’ve been here long enough to know that. You’re not above everyone else.”
I knew that Vicki would never have gotten this worked up if it wasn’t for the circumstances—especially when it came to group sessions, which she preferred to lead anyway.
Her reaction was exaggerated, and I was getting sick of it. I had had enough.
Squaring my shoulders, I felt an inexplicable rush of adrenaline sweep over me like a rushing waterfall. “This needs to stop,” I said, loudly and clearly and far too confidently for my own good. “ You need to stop with this bullshit.”
Vicki curled her lips and crossed her arms. As short as she was, she couldn’t look any taller, as if she was towering over me, Goliath facing off against David. But didn’t David win?
“You’re hurt, I get that,” I continued, feeling rather delirious. What the hell am I doing? “But it’s enough. I’m sick of you constantly breathing down my neck, Vicki. It’s getting embarrassing. You’re embarrassing yourself. If you don’t move on, accept what Alex and I did— which frankly has nothing to do with you since you’d already broken up with him—you’re going to shrivel up with bitterness . . . This is childish. You’re being childish, and I can’t stand it anymore.”
My shoulders rose and fell with sharp, jittery breaths. I wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline charging through my veins or the sheer nerve it took to say all that—I’d wanted to speak my mind for ages now—but my entire body was humming.
Vicki’s face smoothed, looking even more dangerous, and I braced myself for impact, for the bomb ready to explode. But there was no bomb, just a forlorn-looking Vicki with lips parted and nothing to say.
She walked over to the plinth I had sat on moments ago and covered her face with her hands, as if trying to block out the world. I glanced at Becks and mouthed, “What the fuck?”, to which Becks responded, “You’ve broken her.”
A few tense moments later, Vicki dropped her hands and sighed. She was slouching instead of sitting ramrod straight—another sign that Becks was right, I had in fact broken Vicki.
Shit.
She glanced up and looked my way, holding onto my gaze so fiercely I forgot how to blink. Vicki parted her lips to say something else, but whatever it was, it got stuck in her throat.
Instead, she got up and walked off to the treatment room.
“Did that just happen?” gasped Becks, her jaw slack, her eyes wide like dinner plates. “What did just happen?" I asked, equally gobsmacked.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. I couldn’t stop thinking about Vicki, how pained she’d looked, how sorrow had seeped into her face like ink spreading in water. It was disturbing to see, one of those things that was hard to wrap your head around.
But even with Vicki’s apparent sadness lingering in my mind, I couldn’t shake the many thoughts of Alex. Becks was right. Giving up on something before it even started just because of a few doubts was silly and idiotic. What better way to get rid of those doubts than to face them head-on?
When the workday ended, I climbed into my car and headed over to Alex’s house.
His silver Mercedes was parked in the driveway.
I got out and had barely made it halfway along the stone path when the door opened.
“Sophie,” said Alex. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m in love with you too,” I blurted before I’d even stepped onto the half-moon porch.