Sophie and Jake (Passports and Promises)

by Abigail Drake

  “Duh,” I said. His kisses, even though they were light and ever so brief, made me dizzy and hot and hungry for more. “Of course, I love you. That’s a really stupid question.”

  He brushed his finger across my cheek. “My mom won’t scare you away?” he asked, his dark eyes worried.

  “I’m not easily scared. Except for when it comes to spiders. Or snakes. Or clowns. But moms? No problem. They don’t bother me at all.”

  “So you’ll come again in two weeks and we’ll go to the dance together? As long as there are no clowns, snakes, or spiders?”

  “Of course, I will. Kristy and I are buds now. We’re tight. I promised her I wouldn’t miss it. She and I are going to be besties soon. Eventually, your mom and I will be besties, too. I promise.”

  He kissed me again, his lips warm, and his arms wrapped tightly around me, solid and strong. He picked me up, swinging me around and around, and we laughed as the stars sparkled above us and snowflakes slowly danced in the night sky. I didn’t feel the cold, or even the pain over his mother’s lack of acceptance. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was Jake.

  We talked as I drove home. I had my phone on Bluetooth and chatting with him made the two-hour drive seem more like twenty minutes. I hung up as I pulled into my driveway, surprised to see my mother at the door, waiting for me.

  “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

  She pulled me into a hug. “Jake’s mom called. She told me about what happened. Are you okay?”

  “What did she say?”

  I hung my coat on the hook by the front door, and followed my mom into the kitchen. She’d prepared hot cocoa, the rich, delicious, homemade kind, and handed it to me in a steaming mug. She must have been tracking my phone, and knew exactly when I’d arrive, because she made cookies, too. Snickerdoodles, my favorite. I picked one up and nibbled on it as I waited for her to speak.

  “She said she wasn’t kind to you, and she feels terrible about it.”

  “She does?”

  Mom nodded. “This is so hard for her, Sophie.”

  “I know. I get it. Trust me.”

  “You do?” she asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

  “Of course. She’s been through a lot.”

  She reached for my hand. “She has, and you’re a good kid for understanding. She needs some time. She feels…well, we both feel…” She hesitated. “We think it might be better if you and Jake ease off for a while.”

  I froze, putting my cookie down. Not where I thought this was going at all. “This is what the two of you decided together on the phone this evening?”

  She winced. “Don’t say it like that. It’s only until Dylan gets better. To be honest, I worry about how this might affect your sister as well.”

  “Which is why I haven’t told Sam about it yet. Which is why we decided to keep it on the down low for now.”

  “I know, but she’s trying to do what’s best for her child.”

  I pushed away the untouched cup of cocoa and stood up. “No. She’s trying to do what’s best for one of her children. For Dylan. Not for Jake.”

  “But Dylan is the sick one…” she said. I stopped her.

  “Dylan has been the sick one for nearly half of Jake’s life. How do you think it makes him feel? You don’t know what it’s like, Mom. Jake doesn’t complain about it, I’ve only heard bits and pieces, but I know what I saw with my own eyes. She’s upset about Dylan, which I understand, but she takes out her anger on Jake, and on me. It’s not fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair, sweetie, but we have to respect her wishes.”

  “And her wishes are for me never to see Jake again?”

  She bit her lip. “Well, she didn’t say so…not exactly…”

  “But it’s what you inferred from your conversation?”

  “For the time being. Until things are resolved, and Dylan is better again. Would a few months matter? Is it so important?”

  I stared at her, unable to believe she took Mrs. Hunter’s side on this. “Are you forbidding me from seeing Jake?”

  She reached for my hand. “No. I’m asking you to do this as a favor for his mother. To make things easier for her. What do you say? Will you do it?”

  I pulled my hand away. “No, I won’t. He needs me, Mom, and the last thing I would ever do is hurt him.”

  “So you’re going to the dance with him in two weeks?” she asked, and I nodded. “We’ll need to get you a dress. A pretty one. And I think it would be best if your father and I drove you there. It’ll be more comfortable, and it’ll ensure everyone is on their best behavior.”

  I threw my arms around her and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She kissed my cheek. “Of course. I didn’t want to take sides, Sophie. I had to ask, though, as a favor from a mother to a mother.”

  “I get it,” I said. “But, tell Mrs. Hunter, as a favor to her, I’ll pretend this conversation never happened. Because, if Jake found out, it would damage their relationship even more.”

  I walked out of the kitchen and shut the door, pausing in the hallway to take a deep breath. The last thing I wanted was to go to war with anyone, especially Jake’s mother, but she’d left me with no other choice. The way she’d acted when I visited her house had been terrible, but calling my mom and trying to get her to agree to this stupid plan to keep Jake and me apart took top prize. She crossed a line with that one, a big one, and I didn’t even know how to react.

  Forgiving would be hard. Forgetting impossible. And as far as her request about putting things on hold with Jake…no way. Not going to happen.

  I picked up my phone, dying to talk to Jake about it but knowing I couldn’t. Mrs. Hunter felt like it was her job to protect Dylan, and I understood. What she didn’t realize was that it was my job to protect Jake. Against anyone.

  Even his own mother.

  Chapter 18

  ~Jake~

  I did a final check in the mirror, straightening my tie once again, before looking at my watch. Sophie should have been here by now. What was the hold up? To make things worse, I called her twice and it went straight to voicemail. Something was not right.

  I picked up my phone, about to call her again, when I glanced out my window and saw the now familiar mini-van pulling into our driveway. “She’s here,” I said, calling out to my parents as joy and relief washed over me at the thought of her being nearby.

  I ran outside to meet her. She’d already exited the car and stood in my driveway, looking beautiful in a simple, elegant, burgundy velvet dress with matching heels. It hit her above the knee and she wore a long, black wool coat over it. She had on more makeup than she usually wore, and did her hair differently, too, swept up on both sides and falling down her back in a cascade of curls. She was, as always, perfect.

  I gathered her into my arms. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you.”

  “You, too,” she said. “My phone died. I’m so sorry. And I forgot my charger, so I couldn’t call to tell you I was running a little late. Something came up.” She pointed behind her to the mini-van. Mrs. Barnes stepped out, giving me a friendly wave as Mr. Barnes held the door open for her. As they walked up the path, they both stared at the house, taking it all in. It was a lot to process, I guess. Although I’d lived here most of my life, I understood the house took a little getting used to since it was kind of a cross between a McMansion and an English castle.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. How nice to see you.”

  Mr. Barnes gave my shoulder a pat. “We’re not here to crash your party. We didn’t like Sophie driving this far so late at night.”

  “And the outlet mall nearby has special holiday hours,” said Mrs. Barnes. “We thought we could get our shopping done. Kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Sorry I didn’t warn you ahead of time,” Sophie said softly as we walked toward the house hand in hand. “My phone died, and my father took my charger out when he cleaned the car this morning. Can I use yours?”

 
“Sure,” I said. “I have mine in the car already. Let’s get this photo thing over with, and then we’ll go.”

  My parents stood in the foyer, waiting. We’d had another rough week with Dylan, and Mom was on edge. I felt nervous about what she might say or do, and so did my dad. We walked on eggshells around her, but she finally agreed she needed to see a therapist. She made an appointment for the following Monday, so, hopefully, it would help, but we still had to get through this weekend, and avoiding triggers was key. Unfortunately, Sophie seemed to be a trigger.

  Mom had a frozen sort of smile on her face when Sophie greeted her, one that didn’t meet her eyes, but at least she played nice. She even allowed Sophie to give her an awkward hug, and made admiring noises about her dress. Everything changed, however, when Mrs. Barnes entered. The fake smiled morphed into one of genuine pleasure and delight.

  “Karen?” she asked, giving Mrs. Barnes a warm hug, one that was not awkward at all.

  “Joan,” said Mrs. Barnes. “So nice to finally meet you in person.”

  They chatted until I looked at my watch and told them we should take photos soon or Sophie and I would be late. They posed us by the fireplace in our great room, taking photo after photo until our mouths hurt from smiling, but at least they seemed happy. With only her presence, Mrs. Barnes had diffused the tension of the whole situation and made it so much more pleasant. As we got into the car, Sophie remarked on it.

  “That went surprisingly well,” she said.

  I took her hand in mine, twining my fingers with hers as we drove to the school. The sun had set, and the houses in our neighborhood sparkled with Christmas lights. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said.

  She grinned. “Me, too. I hope you like to dance, mister, because I sure do, and I’m in the mood to boogie.”

  It turned out Sophie was not kidding. She loved to dance, and insisted I join her. It was more fun than I expected, and part of my joy came from being around her, watching her. She was a naturally good dancer, which came as a surprise to me. When a slow song came on, I pulled her close.

  “How is it you are such a great dancer when you are also the clumsiest person I’ve ever met?”

  She smiled up at me, her arms wrapped around my neck. I had my hands on her narrow waist, my thumbs caressing the curve of her rib cage. “An interesting question. I have no idea. I’ve always been like this. Ask me to walk down the street, and I’ll trip over nothing. Ask me to dance, and I’m totally fine. It’s weird, isn’t it?” She went up on her tiptoes to nuzzle my neck. “And you’re quite the dancer yourself. You have some moves, buddy. But I think I like slow dancing best. It gives me the chance to do this.”

  She pulled my head down and kissed me sweetly on the lips. She tasted like strawberries, and as soon as her mouth met mine, my body hummed with desire. I lowered my hands, gripping her by the hips, as our kisses grew more heated and passionate. When the song ended, and the lights came back on in the gym, signaling the end of the dance, we stared at each other, bemused.

  I lowered my forehead to hers. “Sophie,” I said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life as much as I want you.”

  “Same here,” she said, her voice a little breathless. Could she be as aroused as me? Hard to imagine, but it seemed to be the case.

  As we drove home, Sophie seemed oddly silent. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Of course. I was thinking about something,” she said, pulling up my hand to kiss each finger one by one. When she got to the last one, my pointer finger, she touched it delicately with her tongue, making me gasp in surprise. She took it into her mouth, sucking on it gently before giving it another kiss. “When are we going to sleep together, Jake? I think it’s time, dude.”

  I nearly crashed my car. “Do you mean tonight? Like right now?”

  She laughed. “Uh, no. My parents are probably already at your house, waiting for us. I mean I could text them and see if they’d be okay with it. What do you think? Hi, Mom and Dad. Jake and I will be a few minutes late. We have to take care of business before we head home.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Did you seriously refer to making passionate love to me as ‘taking care of business’? It sounds super romantic, Soph.”

  “It will be super romantic, no matter what we call it. No matter where it happens. It’ll be perfect.” And with that, once again, she managed to make my heart nearly burst with joy with a few simple words.

  Our parents were not hovering by the doorway waiting for us. They sat by the fireplace, empty wine bottles everywhere. As our fathers watched a hockey game, our mothers were curled up on the couch together, deep in conversation. For a few minutes, they didn’t even realize we were back.

  “I have a feeling my parents never made it to the outlet mall,” said Sophie, a smiled tugging at the corner of her lips.

  “Uh, judging by the number of wine bottles, I doubt it.”

  “You’re back,” said my mom, her face lighting up. She and Mrs. Barnes rose to their feet, stumbling a bit and giggling.

  “How was the dance?” asked Mrs. Barnes. “Did you have fun?”

  She seemed to have to focus hard to formulate her words. Mr. Barnes rolled his eyes. “The ladies have been enjoying a few glasses of wine this evening,” he said, indicating the empty bottles. “As you can see.”

  “The dance was great,” said Sophie. “Jake’s friends are all nice, and he’s an awesome dancer.”

  “Jake is an awesome dancer?” asked my dad. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. I have moves. Right, Sophie?”

  She nodded, her expression serious. “He does.”

  Mr. Barnes looked at his watch. “I hate to end the fun, but I have to pick up your sister from school tomorrow, so we’d better get going.”

  “Wait,” said Sophie. “I have Jake’s gift in the car. Do you mind if I give it to him first?”

  “No problem,” said Mrs. Barnes, slurring her words.

  “No problem,” my mom repeated, equally slurry.

  I grabbed Sophie’s gift from my room, and met her outside, next to the ugly, green mini-van. Her face glowed in the light from our Christmas decorations. My mom hadn’t wanted to put any up this year, but I insisted.

  “What if Dylan makes it home for Christmas?” I’d asked. “He’ll be disappointed if we don’t decorate.”

  She grudgingly agreed, but we both knew Dylan would not be home in time for Christmas. It was horribly obvious at this point. I couldn’t help hoping, however, and neither could she. Now I was glad I’d done it, just to see the lights shining on Sophie’s pretty face.

  “Okay. Here is your gift. I hope you don’t think it’s stupid.”

  She got me a Star Trek t-shirt with Kirk and Spock on it that said, “Chicks dig men in uniform,” and an R2-D2 charger for my car. She also knitted me a scarf, which was a little uneven, but in my favorite shade of blue. Immediately, I wrapped it around my neck.

  “Thank you. I love all my gifts,” I said, kissing her cold cheek. I pulled out a small box from the pocket of my coat. She gasped when she saw it.

  “Tiffany? Really?” I handed her the small blue box, and she accepted it almost warily. “You shouldn’t have, Jake. It’s too expensive.”

  I shrugged. “Just open it. I saw it and thought of you.”

  She opened it up and pulled out the silver key on a delicate chain. “Oh. It’s so pretty. But—”

  I kissed her, silencing her protest, and turned her so I could put the chain around her neck. She lifted her hair, and I couldn’t resist stroking her nape after I attached the clasp. She sighed and leaned back against me.

  “Thank you, Jake,” she said, fingering the slim silver key with a single, tiny diamond winking from the center of it. “I love it.”

  I wrapped my arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. “It’s symbolic,” I said. “Since you already have the key to my heart.”

  She turned and kissed me over and over again until the d
oor to my house opened and our parents came out. I stopped kissing her, but I didn’t let go of her. I wanted to keep her close as long as possible. With Sam coming home, and soon leaving on her study abroad trip to Japan, it would be weeks before I saw Sophie again, and I would miss her terribly.

  Our mothers seemed to have trouble with goodbyes as well. “I love you, Karen,” said my mom. “You are the nicest, best person. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I love you, too, Joan,” said Mrs. Barnes, getting teary. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”

  “Oh, brother,” said Mr. Barnes, and my father laughed. “There is nothing like middle-aged women who’ve had too much wine. Yes, we all love each other. Time to get you into the car, Karen. Goodnight. Thank you, Joan and Bob.”

  I kissed Sophie again as her father helped her mother into the car. “Goodbye, Jake,” said Sophie softly, right before she left. “And, just so you know, you hold the key to my heart, too.”

  As my parents walked back into the house, my father leading my mother to make sure she didn’t slip and fall on the icy steps, I looked up at the Christmas lights I’d hung only a few days ago. They seemed dimmer already without Sophie here. Everything seemed that way.

  I tucked my scarf tightly around my neck and followed my parents back into our quiet, dark house.

  Chapter 19

  ~Sophie~

  Is that a Tiffany necklace?” asked Sam as we sat down to dinner the next evening.

  Crap. I’d meant to tuck it into my sweater, but I couldn’t seem to stop touching it, and I accidentally left it out.

  “Uh, no,” I lied. “Of course not. But it’s pretty, isn’t it?”

  She narrowed her eyes, trying to get a closer look, but my mother deftly distracted her. “Have some more potatoes, Sam. You look so thin.”

  She did look thin, and pale. Also, a strange sadness lurked in her eyes that hadn’t been there before Dylan. It had shocked me to see her like this at Thanksgiving, and it was equally shocking to see her like this now. Would she ever be back to being the old Sam again? I had to wonder at this point. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d heard her laugh. It may have been months ago.