by N. K. Smith
“It’s o-okay.”
She turned away from me to look out the window. “Do you know where you’re going? The movie should be starting soon.”
I had to smile. She obviously didn’t know what an over-thinker I was. I had Googled the film festival and the theater, and had it programmed into my GPS.
The theater was almost empty. We watched the first movie, Prisoner of the Mountains, which I had no real feelings about. I was sure it was a perfectly fine movie, but I was preoccupied because I was sitting next to Sophie, and I was much more interested in her. I’d read the story before, but she was entirely new to me.
I tried to pay attention. I really, really did, but since we were sharing an armrest, at times we’d go to put our arms there at the same time. I’d never believed it before when I read it in books, but I swore there was some kind of chemical exchange between us. It wasn’t like the sedatives from Stephen’s syringe; a sharp whip of pain followed by heavy lethargy. It was more like a constant flow of oxymoronic calming excitement traveling through my veins.
When the movie was over, we had about two hours until the next one started. “Do you mind if we go get something to eat?” Sophie asked. It was lunchtime and I was hungry too. I was about to tell her that it was fine and ask her what kind of food she liked when she continued. “It’s just that I can’t…I have to eat on a semi-regular schedule or my blood sugar goes all wonky. I must have too much insulin or something. I’m sorry.”
She looked almost nervous when she said it. “T-th-that’s f-f-f-fine, S-Sophie. Ther-there’s f-f-food all u-up and d-down this r-r-road.” She smiled at me and to my complete and utter amazement, grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the exit.
I barely had time to rid myself of the shock when I found myself out on the sidewalk, still being yanked behind her. She pulled me into a small pizzeria. “I hope you don’t mind. Pizza’s quick, cheap, and easy.”
She let go of my hand as she slid into a booth near the front window and I sat across from her. There were a million things I wanted to say, but stutter or not, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to say any of them.
I wanted to know why she looked nervous when she told me she had to eat. I wanted to know if she felt the chemical surge between us too. I wanted to ask how she got the little scar on the top of her forehead that was mostly disguised by her hairline. I wanted to ask why, out of everyone, she asked me to go to the movies with her.
But I didn’t ask any of those things. Instead, I just watched as she pulled a small black pouch out of her bag and unzipped it, then sanitized her hands and looked up, giving me a little shrug. “Sorry, I have to.” I had no clue what she was apologizing for, or what she had to do, so I just sat, watching her.
The pouch held a little plastic container, a digital monitor, and some flat thing with a button. Finally, I realized she was going to test her blood sugar. She put the lancet in the little stabbing device and pushed a test strip into the monitor. I winced with her as she depressed the button on the device and pricked her finger.
A small drop of blood formed and she held it to the testing strip. It beeped five times as she took her napkin and pressed it to her bleeding finger. A number appeared and she shrugged. “Good thing pizza’s full of carbs.”
“I-i-is it o-okay?”
Again, she shrugged as she removed the lancet from the device, closing up the pouch and sanitizing her hands again. “It’s okay. A little low, but…”
“D-do you h-haaaave t-to take in-insulin?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I just took too much or didn’t eat enough...I should’ve had popcorn at the theater, but it seemed too early.”
The waitress arrived and Sophie and I decided on a pizza. When she left, I continued asking questions, but not the ones I really wanted to know the answers to. “S-ssssso, w-w-w-what’s the w-w-worst thing a-about h-h-having di-di-diabetes?”
She took a sip of water and thought for a moment. “Knowing that it won’t just go away. Not being able to eat everything I want. Making myself bleed at least four times a day. Jabbing myself with needles. Knowing my life will probably be shorter than everyone else’s because of it. Yeah, basically everything.” She was quiet for a moment before adding, “I hate needles and blood.”
I just nodded. I wouldn’t like any of that either. I didn’t have a blood phobia or anything, but I’d seen enough of it gushing from various parts of my body that I wouldn’t want to stab my finger every day.
“So what’s the worst part about having a stutter?”
My breath caught. I hadn’t been prepared for that. I should have expected some kind of reciprocal question, but for whatever reason, I hadn’t given it a thought. She was looking at me now, her eyes questioning as she stirred the ice around her glass with a straw. I took several deep breaths. I wasn’t going to freak out. If I wanted to be normal, I would have to talk to people, even beautiful people like Sophie.
“Uh...” I began smoothly. There were so many things that I hated about having a stutter, it was hard to know where to begin. “I-I-I c-can’t ssssay everyth-thing I w-w-want to say. N-n-no matter h-how h-h-hard I t-try, I c-c-c-can’t c-control it.” I shrugged. “B-b-basically everything.” I’d looked away from her, but then forced myself to turn back. “P-p-people think I-I’m s-s-stupid.”
I mentally kicked myself for saying all that, even if I was proud that I’d gotten through it. Sophie was looking at me with what had to be pity in her eyes. I hated pity. I looked down at my hands as I fiddled with the edge of my napkin.
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Elliott.”
I looked up at her and I was sure my expression reflected my shock. While I knew she didn’t think of me the way Chris Anderson and the other kids did, I still operated under the assumption she thought I was somehow mentally deficient. She gave me a small smile and I returned it. “Th-thank you.”
She shrugged. “I’ve seen your room. I don’t think stupid people read the books you read, or know anything about art, and I’m sure some stupid people play music, but they’re probably not all that good.”
I allowed myself a chuckle over that. “Y-you h-haven’t heard me p-play.”
“Doesn’t matter; I already know you’re awesome at it.”
Wow. That was such a nice compliment.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” I gave her a questioning look. “When I asked about your mom. It wasn’t…”
Sighing, I dropped my head and looked at my hands again. “I-it w-was a long t-time ago, S-Sophie.” While it was true that it was a long time ago, I could still see the scene before me when I closed my eyes. There weren’t any words to describe the lifeless body of your heroin-addicted mother slumped on the floor in front of you, while her blood and brains slid down your door.
I could still remember the smell.
She had done it in front of my door, so I couldn’t get out without stepping over her. The doorknob was red with blood. The only thing I could do was back away. No one else had been home at the time. I had no idea how long it took for my father to come back, but I remember shivering as I sat in the dark corner of my closet. I had never been so happy to see him in all my life. That feeling was short-lived.
“So ask me something.”
I looked up, blinking, willing myself to come back to the present. “W-what?”
“It’s only fair, right?”
“W-why did y-you m-move to D-D-Damascus?”
She shrugged. “I stole a car. The judge said I had to come here.”
My eyes widened. “W-w-why d-did you steal a c-c-car?”
Her smirk faded quickly. “Um, I had to go someplace.”
“W-was it y-your m-m-mom’s c-c-car?”
“No. Helen’s piece of shit wasn’t worth stealing. It was our neighbor’s.” She rubbed her hand over her face like she was
tired. “But it wasn’t like I was out joyriding, you know.”
“W-where d-did you h-have t-to go?”
She took a deep breath and shifted her eyes away. When a bell dinged behind her, she turned toward the sound, and then turned back. “Look, it’s our pizza.”
We ate very quietly and I was amazed that I’d thought asking her a few questions would clear things up, because in reality, all it did was add more questions to the list.
I tried to pay for the pizza, but Sophie took out her own money. I didn’t want it. I even tried to give it back to her but she wouldn’t take it, telling me once again that it wasn’t a date and so she could and should pay for half the pizza. I felt bad. It was fine that it wasn’t a date, but Stephen had been giving me money since he first took me in and I rarely ever spent any of it. Sophie’s dad was a civil servant and I knew he couldn’t be making that much. Not wanting to offend her, I folded up the bills and stuck them back in my pocket.
When we got outside, I turned to head back to the theater since it was nearing the time for the next movie, but Sophie stopped me by putting her hand on my arm. “Do you want to skip Anna Karenina?” She tilted her head as she looked up at me, and her big blue eyes locked with mine. “I mean, we both already know the story or whatever and there’s a cool-ass bookstore over there,” she said, jabbing her thumb up the road.
“S-sure.”
She looked happy and I was glad that my agreeing with her made her smile. “Great.” Then it faded as her brow creased. “So, um, would you mind if I smoked?”
It took me a moment to process her question. It’s not like I was asked every day if I cared if someone used an illegal substance. “Uh…n-n-no.”
She let out a relieved breath before smiling again. Once more she took my wrist and tugged me toward the bookstore. Before we got there, she ducked into a small alleyway. It was filthy-looking and made me feel quite uncomfortable. “You stay here,” she said as she let go of me. “I’ll only be a second. Just…just cough really loud if you see someone coming.”
Now I was Sophie’s lookout. That made me uncomfortable, but to be perfectly honest, she probably could’ve talked me into robbing a bank. So there I stood, facing the street, watching for any signs of someone headed our way.
It wasn’t long before she emerged. The odor clung to her, faint, but definitely there, and probably just like Jason, she didn’t think anyone could smell it. Her eyes were a bit glassier than at lunch and she had a certain kind of lazy look on her face.
I wished she didn’t get high.
“Ready for the bookstore?”
I just nodded and she turned, taking off up the street. Of course, I followed, my long legs making it too easy to catch up with her. The bookstore was old and dusty, and nothing like the new chain bookstores. There was a small café attached to it and plush armchairs scattered throughout. It was easy to see how much Sophie liked it from the moment she stepped in. She even turned around to look at the tinkling bells on the door as it closed behind us.
Personally, I didn’t care what kind of books were in this little shop, as long as they made her happy. I followed her through the weaving stacks until she found a section that interested her and ran her hand lightly over the spines of the hardback books.
I couldn’t help but smile. She was lost inside her head and from the look on her face, she was enjoying it. “I love this place. They should get one just like it in Damascus.” I silently agreed; then I could take her every day and see her happy like this all the time.
I watched Sophie closely as she pulled books halfway off the shelf and studied the covers, and I suddenly wished I owned more books that interested her.
“I couldn’t bring all my books from Tampa.” She turned to me, her cheeks reddening for some reason. “Not that I had that many, but I could only bring a few paperbacks.” She grabbed a couple and then went over to an armchair before stopping and looking back at me. “I promise I’m not going to make you stay here until I read all of these. I’m just going to skim through them and remember the best parts.”
I smiled at her again. “I-it’s okay, S-Sophie. W-we can ssstay as l-long as you w-w-want.”
My body felt weak when she smiled at me again, excitement shining in her eyes. I followed her, thinking she was going to sit down, but instead she went to a different section. After moments of scanning, she reached out and grabbed a book, shoving it at me. “You don’t have this, but you’d like it.”
I read the title: Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham. I must have looked shocked, because she laughed. “It’s not crazy-kinky or anything like that. It’s kinda dark and tortured.”
With that, she turned and I followed her to the armchairs. We sat in adjacent chairs and I couldn’t help but steal glances at her out of the corner of my eye. She was so enthralled by the books she’d chosen. It was interesting the way her face shifted expressions as she read different excerpts and how her lips moved as she read each word. I wondered how many times she’d read each one.
I read the introduction to the book she’d handed me and I knew I’d probably enjoy it. Of course, the minute she said I’d like it my mind was made up. I was going to buy it. I was also going to buy those books for her. I was sure that she would refuse or try to keep me from doing it, but I was going to find a way.
After awhile, my cell phone rang, startling me out of my plotting. I dug it hastily out of my pocket and checked the caller ID. It was Stephen. I’d forgotten to check in with him.
Without even saying hello, I said, “I-I’m s-sssorry. I-I f-f-forgot. I-I’m f-f-fine.”
“How are the movies? Are you in one now?”
“Uh...” I didn’t know how to respond. Did I tell him the truth? Was that okay? I was a horrible liar, even over the phone, so I just went for it. “We-we’re in a b-b-bookstore n-now.”
“Oh. Did you get something to eat?”
“Y-yes.”
“Do you know when you’ll be heading back?”
“N-no, b-but p-p-probably sssssometime ssoon.”
“And you’re having fun?”
“Y-yes, S-SSSStephen.” Sophie smiled down at the open book
“Then I won’t keep you. Just make sure you call me.”
After I told him that I would call him again soon, I looked at Sophie. She was still engrossed in one of her books. It wasn’t until I snapped the phone closed that she looked up at me.
“He always keep such close tabs on you?” I nodded, not feeling the need to tell her that typically I never did anything but go to school and come home, so there wasn’t much of a need to keep tabs. “That’s gotta suck.”
I just shrugged and we went back to reading. After awhile, I knew we had to leave because I feared her father would send out a search party for us. Stephen would be his second-in-command. “W-w-we should p-probably go now.”
She looked at her wrist, even though she wasn’t wearing a watch, and sighed. “Wouldn’t want Tom to think I ran off.” She stood and I did the same, taking the books from her hands and walking toward the front of the shop until I felt her hand on my arm. “Those books go back there.”
I turned to find her pointing toward the stacks. “I-I-I know. I’m b-buying them.”
She looked suspicious. “Not for me, I hope.” I shrugged. “You can’t buy them for me, Elliott.”
“W-why not?”
“I’m not a charity case, that’s why. If I really wanted them, I could buy them myself.”
I frowned. It was just as I had anticipated, but I shook my head. “N-no. I-I’m buying them f-for you. Ch-Ch-Christmas p-presents.”
She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Christmas is months away and I’m not getting you anything, so I can’t accept the presents.”
At least she was being honest. I sighed. “F-fine. I’m b-buying them f-f-f
or mmmmme, a-and you can b-b-borrow them an-an-any…w-whenever you’d like.”
She glared at me and I could tell she was trying to figure out a way to talk me out of buying the books again, but how could she do that when I’d made it clear I was buying them for myself? She exhaled loudly. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be quite annoying?”
I smiled, hoping that I wasn’t really annoying her, and then I proceeded to the register.
The ride back to Damascus was pretty chill. I’d smoked a little before we left and Elliott’s choice of music amused me. I’d liked just about everything I’d heard on the ride to D.C., but for the ride home, the music was just so perfectly suited for a nice toasty buzz. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he planned it that way.
Elliott was an incredibly nice guy. Not just a nice guy, but a real gentleman or whatever. He hadn’t looked at my tits once. He didn’t smack my ass or make raunchy comments. That was a new thing for me.
Basically it meant he made me really nervous. I mean, he’d even brought me coffee this morning. I knew it wasn’t a big deal or anything, but it was thoughtful and considerate, and who in my world did that?
He called me out about smoking pot. I loved that. He didn’t make me feel bad about it, and just said that I didn’t have to hide it from him. Now that was a notion that made me nearly piss in my pants with fear. Not hide? Jesus. What would that be like?
I realized that smoking pot in front of him wasn’t exactly sensitive. Even if he said it was fine, I knew he probably hated it. But weed wasn’t smack and I wasn’t his mother. If he really wasn’t okay with it, he should say so instead of waiting for me to read between the lines.
I’d truly enjoyed my time with him. He didn’t pressure me and things felt natural between us. Plus, his stutter kept him from saying all the unnecessary shit that people felt compelled to say.
The shit we did talk about was intense, but crazy-cool too. I’d never met anyone who could talk about Johnny Cash and then tell me some screwed-up story about his mother all in the same day. And he didn’t freak out about it; I did. If his mother wasn’t dead already, I’d kick her in her teeth for doing that to him.
