by N. K. Smith
I had wanted her to look at me so I could see her, but now that I understood what she was talking about, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to look at anyone either.
“I was trying to get finished. I had homework, and Helen’s idiot cat had puked all over the floor and I had to clean it up. Usually I knew where she was at all times; it was safer that way, but I must have been thinking about something else, or maybe I was really high or whatever, because I had no idea she was in the kitchen with me.” Sophie stopped speaking for a while, scratching at the wood of my bookshelf, and fingered a small green rock.
She let out a deep breath. “I didn’t know she was there until I felt the pain in my jaw. She hit me from the side and I stumbled. My legs hit the door of the open dishwasher and I couldn’t stop myself from falling. I hit my head on the edge of the counter, but the searing pain in my neck was too much. It was the last time I ever put forks or knives with the pointy sides sticking up.”
“S-SSSSSophie,” I began as I took a step toward her. I stopped when she turned quickly.
“I have to go.”
No. I didn’t want her to leave. “D-don’t.” I took another step forward, but she pressed herself against the bookshelf. Her fingers wouldn’t stop moving: curling, straightening, twisting. She was tapping her foot, but not to the beat of the music, and her shoulders shook a little. She looked like I felt during the onset of a panic attack.
I didn’t want that for her.
“S-Sophie?” I took a step backward, knowing that any forward movement would just make her even more uncomfortable. “W-w-w-will you e-mail m-mm-mmme tomorrow?”
She swallowed hard and took a shaky breath before finally looking me in the eyes. She nodded. “But I have to go now.” It was barely a whisper which let me know that she’d never told anyone this before; the newness of telling someone was probably more frightening for her than the night it actually happened. I knew how scary it was when people learned secrets which were never meant to be revealed.
I returned her nod and went back to my bed. By sitting down, I hoped that I was showing her she was free to leave and that she wasn’t trapped. It took her a moment, but she surprised me by sitting down next to me. Suddenly she was in my arms again, her breath hitting my neck and sending shivers down my body. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like it was vital that I do something.
I should’ve wrapped my arms around her and whispered that it would be okay, even if it wasn’t going to be. I should’ve let her know I cared for her and I understood the pain she felt. I should’ve done a lot of things, but my chances were taken from me as she pulled back and then stood. Quickly, she ran her hands through her long hair and went to the door, muttering a goodbye as she left.
The feeling of her so very close to me was beautiful. Her short hug was an acknowledgement that something deep had now passed between us.
As painful as it was to watch and listen to her tell that story, I’d been right. It did feel like a victory.
I went downstairs as Mr. Young and Sophie were leaving because Stephen and Robin expected it. Sophie was quiet and wouldn’t look at me. I didn’t take it personally. While I’d only known her for a short time, it was easy to see that she wasn’t rejecting me with her silence.
It was her nature to avoid thinking about things. She had just told me about being stabbed in the neck with a fork because her mother hit her. I understood her silence and that she felt helpless and exposed.
I retreated upstairs, to the only sanctuary I knew: My bedroom. I couldn’t help but feel as though we had crossed some kind of invisible line in our relationship. These questions we asked had a purpose. She wouldn’t answer mine if some part of her didn’t want me to know these things about her. Again, that felt like a huge milestone.
Our dance was a dance for those who’d never been granted the right to be innocent. We’d barely moved and it was far too short, but I hadn’t failed in my quest to be close with her. Afterward, she’d finally admitted out loud that something dark and terrible had happened to her.
If I hated Sophie’s mother before based on pure speculation, I loathed her now. There was no funny, but scary story that accompanied the four little marks on her neck. Instead, it was just scary. There was only pain and confusion. It didn’t matter how old Sophie had been when it happened, or what she did to deserve something like that, because no person, at any age, deserved to be hit. Thinking about how she could have died because sharp implements were so dangerously close to major arteries, made it that much more horrific.
For a moment, I felt paralyzed as I realized just how close to death she could have been. It must have been bloody. It must have hurt. Forks, while being sharp, were sort of blunt as well. Thank God there wasn’t a knife to accompany it; otherwise Sophie probably would have died that night. I wondered if her mother took her to a doctor, or if it was just patched up at home to avoid all of the questions that would have surely come up if she’d gone to the Emergency room. I wondered if the dirty fork gave her an infection that her body had to fight off while it tried to heal itself.
I knew that kind of pain. I wanted to give her one of my heavily-guarded secrets like the one she had given me tonight, but my chest seized just thinking about it.
I wondered what the future would bring for us. She had a pattern of saying or doing something that was real, or at least that felt real, and then withdrawing. I wondered how much damage our pseudo-dance and her small but incredibly meaningful confession had caused, and whether she would even talk to me.
The next day I sent her a very short e-mail that was intended to let her know that I knew how scared she was.
Sophie,
I won’t tell anyone. I realize that what you told me last night is a secret. I know that whether you meant to or not, you’ve entrusted me with its keeping. I won’t betray that trust, I promise. I’m your friend, Sophie, and you’re mine and that makes you the best thing in my life.
Thank you for giving that to me. I won’t ever do anything to damage what you’ve given to me. I realize how special it is.
Thank you, Sophie.
Elliott
I typed her name three times and I liked how it felt doing it. I liked typing the word friend because I knew that we were friends. I felt warm and safe because whatever the future brought for the two of us, I would always have the comfort of knowing that she chose me, even if it was just for that brief moment in my room to the rich, soothing voice of Otis Redding.
While my siblings talked about the gym full of streamers and what songs were played, I thought again about my own dance with Sophie. It was short, probably not even a minute, but she’d let me hold her longer than I thought she would have. When she moved away from my arms, I knew that it wasn’t about me. Then she’d given me a hug.
I wanted to hold her again, to feel her body close to mine. I wanted to feel that chemical exchange and the way her skin made mine tingle. I wanted to know if she felt a similar connection. I wanted to know her and I hoped that she still wanted to know me.
I wanted to make her happy; to see her smile like she had by the stream in the woods of flowers of fallen leaves, and in the book store. I wanted to take all those memories away from her that made her so sad.
I wondered if Sophie would ever let me dance with her again. I wanted her in my arms, pressed against me. I wanted to be so close to her that I could smell her. I wanted to be so close to her that she wouldn’t have to share those heavily-guarded secrets, because they would just silently absorb into me.
I didn’t just want to know her secrets. Surprisingly, I wanted her to know mine. There was so much I could tell her. There was so much about my real family that I’d never said to anyone. It would be painful, but at the end of the process, someone would know it all. Someone could help me carry my burden, but before I could allow that to happen, I needed to help her. I was
dedicated to helping her as if it was my new mission in life.
Like speaking more fluently, understanding Sophie Young was a goal of mine.
Sophie was a puzzle, and she purposefully withheld some of the pieces. It was frustrating and baffling, wonderful and exciting.
These new pieces she handed me were bits of her; pieces of all the dark secrets she’d never given up. I understood why they were kept so secure. I understood the need to keep them safe, away from others. People judged. People hurt, and some things were never meant to be spoken of. There were memories locked within me that would take the Jaws of Life to pry the doors open, and yet some part of me desperately wanted to give them up freely to her.
With her admission, I could finally feel that we really were friends. Maybe now that she’d said it out loud, Sophie could learn to deal in another way. Maybe she’d stop spiraling toward self-destruction. If she never did, I was sure I’d still feel this way about her. Always. I was drawn to her. Despite it all, I was in love with Sophie Young and I wanted her to know all of me.
I just wasn’t ready yet.
It was after eleven when I finally opened the two e-mails from Elliott. The first was our usual question and answer. The second one asked just one question. Are you okay?
Why the hell couldn’t he have just not cared like every other person? Why did he have to be so damned concerned and shit? Couldn’t he just want to bang me like everyone else?
Hell, no. Elliott had to be all kind and caring with his puppy eyes and Otis Redding dances.
I probably should have just cut the whole thing off with Elliott, not even answering the questions and not letting him entertain the idea that it was a good idea to be my friend, but I had to acknowledge that there was something about him that made me want to truly be his friend. There was something about Elliott that made me need to be around him.
I was going to need to rein myself in just a little bit. I would allow myself to be his friend, but I wouldn’t keep going the way we were. I had to remember how to keep it together. I certainly didn’t need to continue to let myself get swept up into…
Who the hell was I kidding? I was in pretty deep with him already and I could never take back what I told him. He knew now and he would always know.
