by Jonah Black
When I got outside a little later, Posie was waiting for me. She gave me this big hug. And I realized as I hugged her that for the first time I really wasn’t thinking about Sophie anymore. I was thinking about tomorrow, Thanksgiving, and Posie and me, together at last.
On the way home I pulled over at the drugstore and bought more condoms just for the hell of it.
(Still Nov. 21, later)
When I got home, the VW Beetle was parked in front of the house again.
I know who it belongs to now. It doesn’t belong to Thorne, although it’s the same color as Thorne’s. No, this Beetle belongs to someone else: Mr. Bond, the senior class homeroom teacher.
Hello??
When I walked in the door he was sitting on the couch with his arm around Mom. The two of them were watching TV and they looked up at me, totally unconcerned, all smiles.
“Hi, Jonah!” said Mom.
“Hi, Jonah!” said Mr. Bond.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Mr. Bond.” I felt like all the blood was draining out of my body. I couldn’t believe it. Mr. Bond is Mom’s boyfriend, of all people.
Mr. Bond smiled at me. “Oh, you can call me Robere.” He said it like it was this French name that rhymes with Pierre. I have to say it’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.
Honey came in at that moment, and looked at Mom and Mr. Bond. “So, Mom. This your new boyfriend?” she said.
“Well, yes. I hope you’ll be nice!” Mom said, and laughed nervously.
Honey looked like she was thinking it over. “I don’t think so,” she said, and left.
“Robere and I have been dating for over a month now,” said Mom.
“She’s a pretty special lady,” said Mr. Bond.
I just stood there, amazed.
“Good job at the meet today,” said Mr. Bond. “You’re quite an athlete.”
“Oh, yes, you were wonderful, Jonah!” said Mom. She stood up suddenly and threw her arms around me, and hugged me hard. “I’m so proud of you. You’re doing a great job!” Then she went back to the couch and put her arms around Mr. Bond again and relaxed.
I don’t know. Sitting on the couch like that, the two of them kind of looked like teenagers to me. And something in me softened to them. I guess it’s fine that Mom has someone in her life. I just wish it wasn’t Mr. Bond. It’s too weird. I’m already thinking about how awkward it will be when I’m in his homeroom next year.
“Robere is staying overnight tonight,” said Mom. “He’s going to help make the turkey tomorrow.”
“That’s appropriate!” shouted Honey from the next room.
“I have a special recipe,” Mr. Bond said. “I marinate the turkey in Cointreau.”
“What’s Cointreau?” I said.
“Oh, it’s an orange liqueur,” Mr. Bond said, winking at me.
“Ah,” I said.
“Robere is going to be around quite a lot from now on,” said Mom.
“Oh?” I asked. “Is Mr. Bond moving in with us?”
Mom and Mr. Bond looked at each other and giggled. “We’ll see,” Mom said.
I went to my room and lay down on the bed. Sometimes I can’t believe my own life. It’s like this chain of totally bizarre events. I picked up the phone because I was sort of in the mood to talk to someone. First I tried Posie, but Mrs. Hoff said she was out surfing. Then I called Thorne, but there was no answer at his house, and I realized he was probably out on his dad’s boat. So I put the phone back in the cradle and I thought about going on the Web, but the idea of encountering Northgirl again would probably drive me crazy wondering who she is, so I just put on some music. It was a while before I realized that the idea of calling Sophie hadn’t even occurred to me.
I think I’m over her at last.
Nov. 22, Thanksgiving, 6 P.M.
There’s a song that we used to sing on Thanksgiving when we were kids, about It’s a gift to be simple, it’s a gift to be free. I never used to think about it, at least not about how things being simple is actually a gift, because I always used to kind of take simplicity for granted. But I think it’s fair to say I don’t do that anymore. Now I wish that things could be more simple. That would definitely be a gift.
I guess you could say a couple of weird things happened on Thanksgiving.
First of all, the morning and early afternoon were pretty nice. I got up and drank coffee with Honey and the two of us watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on television and it was sort of like we were kids again. I couldn’t remember the last time Honey and I just sat around watching television together. I thought about the fact that she was going to Harvard at the end of this summer and that this was probably one of the last times we’d all sit around like this on a Thanksgiving morning. I thought about some of the funny conversations we’d had recently and I had this real swell of emotion for her. But I knew better than to say anything to her about it, because Honey would punch me in the stomach. Still, it was nice.
Posie came over for Thanksgiving dinner, which was nice, although she wasn’t very hungry because she’d already had Thanksgiving dinner earlier with her grandparents and her little sister, Caitlin. But she came over anyway because I’d asked her to, and it was pretty great having her sit there as part of our family.
Thorne and his mom and dad were there, too. The three of them looked tired and hungry, which was fine because there was tons of food. It was a little weird seeing Mrs. Wood again, though. She looked thin, and a lot older than I remembered. And Thorne’s dad smelled like fish.
Mr. Bond came into the living room wearing an apron and holding this bottle of liqueur. “A little Cointreau, anyone?”
My mom followed him out of the kitchen, and Mr. Bond put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze.
Thorne’s eyes looked like they were going to pop.
“Thorne, you know Mr. Bond,” I said.
Thorne smiled. “Yeah, from school.”
“Hi, Judith,” said Thorne’s dad.
“Hi, Sam. Alice,” said Mom. “Please, make yourselves at home. This is Robere.”
“Robere,” said Mrs. Wood. “Now that’s a name you don’t hear much.”
And Mr. Bond said, “It’s French.”
Honey came in and looked at Mr. Bond and the Woods. She rolled her eyes and said, “Good night, nurse!” and then she left the room.
Mr. Bond frowned, and Mom flapped her hands and said, “Oh, she’s a character!”
Then we all sat down in the living room.
Posie started to say, “Mr. Bond, can I get you a—”
“Robere!” Mr. Bond said.
“Robere, can I get you something? A glass of wine?” Posie offered.
“I think I’ll have an Irish whiskey,” he said.
Posie thought about this for a second.
“Posie, there’s a bottle of Bushmills in the cupboard,” Mom said.
Posie went to get Mr. Bond an Irish whiskey, and Mom said, “My ex-husband used to drink Bushmills,” as if this was a fact that Mr. Bond really wanted to know.
“Bushmills is the Protestant whiskey,” Mr. Bond told us. We all nodded like this was something we wanted to know. Then he added, “Jameson’s is the Catholic whiskey.”
And Mom said, “I think whiskey should be free to be liquid!”
Mr. Bond looked kind of sad. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we lived in a world where that was true,” he said.
Then Posie came out with the Bushmills and gave it to Mr. Bond, and Mom said, “You know, Posie, I think I’ll have a Bushmills, too. On the rocks, with a little water?”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about Posie being ordered around like she was a waitress, but I sort of liked it that Mom considered her part of the family.
“So how do you know Mr. Bond, Mrs. Black?” Thorne said.
“Robere!” Mr. Bond said.
“Robere. How do you know him?” Thorne asked.
“Would you believe Robere and I went to high school together? Back in Ohio? Then he heard me on the rad
io, on the very first edition of Pillow Talk!” Mom said, beaming with delight.
“Uh-huh,” Thorne said.
“He called me up the next day. Didn’t you, Robere?”
“I sure did,” Mr. Bond said.
“We couldn’t believe after all this time we’d both settled down in Pompano!” Mom exclaimed. “It’s such a small world.”
“You knew each other in high school?” I said. I couldn’t believe it.
“Oh, I should say so!” said Mom. And then she actually blushed. This is a woman who talks about sex on the radio. Mom doesn’t blush easily.
“Your mother and I dated,” said Mr. Bond, with a kind of dreamy expression.
“I dumped him for your father! Can you believe it?” Mom said.
“Sure, I can see that,” I said. I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. It was just that if I had to choose between Dad and Mr. Bond, I’d definitely go for Dad.
Mom and Mr. Bond started holding hands. “We’re making up for lost time,” she said.
Honey came in at that moment with a huge plate of cheese. It was the kind of cheese with blue veins in it. She held the plate out to Mr. Bond and Mom.
“Have some stinky cheese, you lovebirds,” she said. As she leaned over with the cheese plate, one of her breasts practically fell out of the black scoop-neck top she was wearing.
“Honey, fix yourself,” said Mom.
Honey looked at Mom like she was speaking a foreign language. Mr. Bond started cutting into the stinky cheese. Mom made a gesture with her hands, indicating that Honey should pull her shirt up, and Honey rolled her eyes.
“Fix myself? Jeez, Mom, you make it sound like I’m broken.”
“I didn’t say you were broken,” Mom said sweetly.
But Honey was off on a tear. It was weird because I hadn’t seen this coming at all. She really laid it into Mom.
“You didn’t have to say it! I know what you think!” Honey screamed.
“Honey, what I think I hear you saying is . . .” Mom stammered, trying like hell to behave like patient Dr. Judith.
“Oh, shut up, Mom! Just once, would you shut up?” Honey yelled.
And then she stomped into her room and slammed the door.
Mom looked after her, clearly embarrassed. Finally she said to Robere, “I think she’s working out some issues.”
“Boys and girls,” sighed Mrs. Wood.
Thorne smiled. “Tell me about it,” he said.
Finally the turkey was done, and we all sat around the dining room table. Honey didn’t come out of her room, and Mom decided not to make her.
I was kind of sad about this, since this was the last Thanksgiving we’d all be together. Still, I was enjoying the meal. I have to say I really love Thanksgiving. I could eat turkey and stuffing and gravy all day. And I felt like I’d finally come to a place of peace, after all the crises of my last year. I know it’s totally stupid and corny, but it’s true. I had lots of things to be grateful for.
I looked at Posie across the table. She was eating mashed sweet potatoes off her fork, and one strand of her hair was falling down from where she’d tied it up on top of her head. The one piece of hanging hair was coming dangerously close to her sweet potatoes. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Then the phone rang and Honey picked it up. A few seconds later she came in and said, “Jonah, it’s for you.” And I said, “Excuse me,” and got up. Honey stayed where she was, and as I went down the hall to get the phone, she sat down in my chair. I heard her say, “May I have some turkey, please?”
And my mother said, “Of course, dear.”
I picked up the phone and I could tell by the static it was long distance.
“Hello? Jonah? Jonah Black?” a girl’s voice said.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s me.”
“It’s Sophie. Sophie O’Brien. From Masthead?”
The second I heard her voice it was like I’d been blown out of a space capsule and I was floating around the moon. All the feelings I’d ever had for her rushed to the surface again, like water bursting through floodgates. That funny Maine accent. Those sad eyes.
“I don’t know if you remember me, but I needed to talk to you.” She pronounced it re-mem-bah.
“I remember you,” I said. “Of course I remember you.”
“I guess I owe you some thanks,” she said. She sounded nervous. “I guess I owe you more than some thanks.”
“For what?” I said.
“For what you did for me last spring.”
“What I did? What did I do?” I said. My legs felt loose and I leaned against the wall for balance.
“Oh, you don’t have to pretend like it’s a secret,” she said. “I found out the truth. I feel so stupid. You saved me. I can’t believe what you did.”
“How did you find out?” I said.
“A friend of yours called me. Thorne Wood? He said you didn’t want anyone to know what you did, but he thought I should know. He was right,” she said.
“Thorne? Thorne called you and told you the story?” My heart was beating wildly in my chest. I couldn’t believe I was talking to Sophie on the phone.
“Yeah,” she said. “You’re lucky to have a friend like him. I wish I had someone like that.” She paused for a second. “I mean, I guess I do have a friend like that. Only I haven’t known it. Why did you do it, Jonah? I mean, we hardly knew each other.”
“I don’t know why I did it,” I told her. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”
“Thorne told me it’s because you’re in love with me,” Sophie said. “Is that true?”
There was a long pause. I tried to think of the right answer. I had this sudden feeling that whatever I said to her right now was going to determine the course of the rest of my life.
“I was,” I said. “I was in love with you.”
“But are you now? Are you in love with me now?” Sophie said. Her voice sounded desperate.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Like you said, we don’t really know each other.”
There was another long pause.
“I was kind of screwed up last spring,” Sophie said. “I was in real trouble.”
“I know,” I said, although I didn’t really know.
“I think I’m better now,” she said.
“I’m glad,” I said.
“You know, I think I might be in love with you, too,” said Sophie. She sounded afraid.
“You are?” I gasped.
“I mean, I don’t know. Maybe I’m in love with the idea of you. With the idea of some guy who’d give up everything to get me out of trouble,” she said quietly.
I thought about this. I liked the idea of her being in love with the idea of me.
“But is that love?” I asked. “Being in love with the idea of somebody? It’s not the same as reality, as really being with them.”
“I know. That’s why I feel so stupid,” Sophie said.
“You’re not stupid,” I said. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Both of us were silent for what seemed like a long time. I heard the static on the line. I thought about all the wires that connected my phone to hers, from Florida all the way to wherever she was calling from.
“Where are you now? Are you in Maine?” I asked her.
“Yeah. I’m at my family’s in Kennebunkport for Thanksgiving.”
“Maine. I’ve never been to Maine,” I said.
“Well, I’ve never been to Florida,” she said. “But I’m coming down over Christmas break. Next month. My father’s taking us all to Orlando. Is that far from Pompano Beach?”
“It’s not very close,” I said.
“But could I drive from there? I mean, it’s possible, right?” she said.
“It’s possible,” I said. I felt sort of seasick at the thought of Sophie driving to Pompano to visit me.
“Jonah, I can’t believe I’m sounding like such an idiot. What I want to say is, I want to see you. I want to mee
t you. Next month when I come to Florida. I want us to be together. Can we do that?” Sophie said.
“Okay,” I said without thinking about it at all.
From the next room I heard Posie laugh. Her laughter sounded like sweet, faraway music. Then I heard Sophie’s voice in my mind. Togethah.
“I’m so happy!” said Sophie. “I’ll call you when I know our plans, okay? I’m really looking forward to seeing you. You’re . . . you’re an amazing person, Jonah Black. But I guess you know that.”
“You’re pretty amazing, too, Sophie,” I said. I couldn’t believe what I was saying. I mean I’d wanted to tell her that very thing for like, two years.
“Okay. I gotta go. Love you. ‘Bye.”
“’Bye,” I said, and I hung up. I stood there next to the phone for a few minutes with the sound of her voice in my head. Love you, she’d said.
Sophie was coming to Florida. She said she loved me. She said she wanted us to be together. And I’d thought she was gone for good.
Only five minutes before she’d called I was sitting with my family—and Robere—thinking about how grateful I was for this great life, and imagining what was going to happen later on tonight, when Posie and I finally sleep together. And then, out of the blue, everything had changed.
I walked back into the dining room, and everybody looked up. Honey raised her wineglass. “Hey, everybody,” she said. “I want to propose a toast!”
“A toast!” said Mr. Bond.
“A toast,” my mother echoed, a little nervously. I think she was afraid Honey was going to whip her shirt off or something.
“I want to propose a toast to my big brother, Jonah,” Honey said.
