“I’m gone!” her father ran, shutting the door firmly behind him.
“Thank you.” Sophie gripped her mother’s hand gratefully. “He’s probably panicking. If I said I loved him and he didn’t say anything, I’d be losing it.”
“Tell him thank you. Thank you is polite and it won’t hurt his feelings.”
Sophie said nothing.
“Do you want to tell him something else?” her mother asked, eyes flickering curiously.
“Don’t you think it’s too soon? Our first real ‘date’ was November 1st and it was more as friends.”
“It’ll be December 1st on Sunday. You’ve dated for close to a month.”
Sophie bit her lip. Her mother was very good at this when she wanted to be. She was pointing things out by stating them as facts without any hint of approval or disapproval.
The phone on the bed chirped.
Jesse:I’m sorry.
Instinctively, she grabbed her phone and held it tight, fingers hovering over the digital buttons under the glass. “When did you know you loved Dad?”
Her mother’s eyes went far away for a minute. “When he tried to speak Armenian on our third date. He tried to tell me I was beautiful and that he was honored to be in my company. It didn’t come out right.”
“Jesse is different. But he’s the same as me. I don’t know how to describe it to you.”
“He looks like you.”
Sophie nodded in the waiting silence that followed. She didn’t know what else to say about that without dragging up years of anxiety. So much of it vanished around Jesse.
“Is that all it is?”
“No! He’s smart and he’s funny. He’s easy to talk to. We drove down to Hershey to see a hockey game.” Her mother made a muted yelp. “I know, it’s hours away and yes, he drove, and no, he didn’t try anything. He bought me a Lumberjacks jersey and a bar of chocolate as big as my head. He sings along to the radio. The cello is his second favorite instrument. See??That’swhy I like him, if he were just trying to impress me, he would have said it was his favorite. But it isn’t. He likes acoustic guitar the best, but he doesn’t know how to play. He works hard. He thinks I’m funny.” A deep breath. “He’s a junior and he already found out he has a genetic disorder that makes him infertile. Maybe I have it, too. And do you know what he did?”
Her mother shook her head, lips clamped shut.
“He told me right away, as soon as we went from being casual acquaintances on the same campus to being people who ‘date.’ Just in case it mattered. He says I’m gorgeous and I deserve better and he doesn’t believe in getting too physically serious. I think Dad would like that.”
The phone lit up in her hand. Jesse:I’m sorry if I ruined it. I just wanted to tell you, because I do.
Sophie wordlessly held out the phone.
“Love can lead to mistakes. Love itself is not a mistake.” Her mother rose, her short frame moving with a grace that made her seem much taller and more regal. “I think you love this boy, at least as a friend. Maybe he is not your future, but he is your present.”
“Gift,” Sophie whispered. It might sound trite, but meeting him had been a gift. She hadn’t felt alone. It was better than just being accepted, better than forcing herself to fit in. Natural.
“I have to go, sweetheart. That pie crust won’t make itself. Come help me in a few minutes?”
“Sure. In a few minutes.” Sophie smiled up as her mother squeezed her shoulder. The second she left the room, the phone flipped screen-side up into her eager fingers. She punched the phone symbol next to Jesse’s number.
He answered on the first ring and began speaking at full speed. “Sophie! Oh, God. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. That was stupid and confusing. I'm sure that counts as a mixed signal after the other things I've told you. Wait, wait, hear me out.” Jesse’s voice rose as if he expected to speak over her. “It's just something I wanted to say. You can take it for whatever you like and if you're done, or whenever we're done— you'll know that that's how I felt about you. Feel about you.”
Sophie waited to make sure the torrent of words had been stemmed. “Can I talk now?”
“Yes. Sure. Sorry.” Jesse spat out words like nervous bullets.
“Okay, first off, Happy Thanksgiving Eve.”
He laughed softly, a short, feeble sound. “Happy Thanksgiving Eve to you.”
