Sweet Sofie

Brandon would be leaving first thing Saturday morning. At least that’s what she heard him tell Alex. The fact it relieved her also gnawed at her. Not a day had gone by since the kiss that she hadn’t thought of it. At first she kept wondering what would have happened if she had let it go on. She knew the moment she left his place she wouldn’t be stepping foot in that walkway again, afraid of what might happen—what he might say. Mostly, she was afraid he might ask her again if she wanted to.

After seeing Eric in Los Angeles, then again this past weekend, the answer to Brandon’s question was clear. Absolutely not, and she wouldn’t hesitate to scream it in his face if he ever asked her again. But the fact still remained—she let him kiss her—hold her, and it riddled her with guilt. Why hadn’t she told him to stop when he gave her the chance?

She lay down on her bed, certain she was in for another night of tossing and turning. Eric had been so sweet when she spoke to him earlier on the phone. The guilt weighed heavier and heavier with every conversation.

*

Even though he was staying with his mom during the summer, they hadn’t really talked a whole lot since he’d been there. His mom was an RN and worked different shifts every week. She worked at two different hospitals and was gone a lot. When she wasn’t gone, she was sleeping since her shifts were usually night shifts.

The few conversations they’d had were as generic as all the conversations he remembered having with her. Work, school, his internship… she asked him about Sofia but he made it pretty clear that was not a subject he would elaborate on, so she hadn’t asked since. Why should he share the most precious thing in his life with her? He didn’t feel she deserved it.

Most of the meals he’d had so far consisted of him slapping a grilled cheese, or throwing cup of noodles in the microwave and eating it alone in front of the television or in the spare bedroom—the room his mother told him was his for the summer, and for as long as he ever needed it. So when he got home Monday night, he was surprised to see the small kitchen table set up and her making dinner.

She smiled when he walked in. “Hey, I hope you like roast! I was in the mood to cook a real dinner.”

Eric glanced around. She’d made mashed potatoes and even had a bowl of fresh baked rolls. He wasn’t sure how he felt about having to sit through an entire meal with her.

“Can you grab that salad and put in on the table for me?” His mom was already putting two plates of dinner together. “Is juice okay or you want milk?”

“Juice is fine.” He placed the salad on the table and walked over to pull out the glasses from the cupboard. “You want juice also?”

“Yes, please.”

Eric poured two glasses and brought them over to the table. With everything set, they sat down to eat. He made a few comments about the quality of the food, especially the dinner rolls which she’d made from scratch. She must’ve had the day off to have time for all this. Eric felt bad now; he’d been this close to passing and heading straight to his room.

After a few more minutes of their usual generic conversation, his mom put her fork down and placed her nd his room.

Growing up, he never dwelled on the fact that he didn’t have a mother. He remembered asking his dad when he was a kid where his mother was, but only out of curiosity. It wasn’t until he was ten that his dad tried to explain to him about his mom having “issues” and her reasons for not sticking around, but he always assured him that she loved him.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, “that I didn’t feel strong enough or mature enough to handle a child. I’m just so glad that your father has been there for you and obviously has done an excellent job of raising you. But I want you to know, I’ve always loved you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away. Eric didn’t know what to say—didn’t even understand why hearing her say she loved him moved him so strongly now. He’d never in all of his twenty years, needed her love, never even thought about it, but hearing her say it did something to him. Still, he was without words.

She dabbed her eyes and nose with a napkin and smiled weakly. “I only hope you’ll continue to give me the opportunity to make up for some of the time we lost.”

Eric nodded. “I will.”

It was all he could think of to say. They ate the rest of their dinner in silence. When they finished, he helped her clear the table. After placing the butter back in the fridge, he glanced at her at the sink, getting ready to wash the dishes. Without even thinking about it, something made him walk over and hug her. It took her by surprise, but she hugged him back.

“Thanks for dinner, Mom.”

He’d never called her that—never called her anything. He’d always just answered her questions or spoke to her without any reference to her name or what she was to him. The only time he referred to her as his mom was when he spoke to Sofia about her. It felt good.

She smiled, the tears welling in her eyes again. “You’re welcome, son.”

CHAPTER 12

The truth shall set you free

Lost in thought, Sofia hadn’t even touched her sandwich.

“What’s with you lately?” Naomi crunched into her pretzel.

Sofia came back to earth and glanced at Naomi, who was staring at her. “You’ve been really spaced out the last couple times I’ve seen you. Something wrong?”

Sofia picked up half of her sandwich, but then stopped and put it down again.