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Authors: Shelly Hickman,Rosa Sophia

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Five

Later
that week, Sophie went to Murphy’s with Lisa and her husband. She had to admit
she was having a pretty good time, watching everyone make fools out of
themselves on stage. And the two drinks she’d had definitely added to the
entertainment value.

Tim, the friend Lisa wanted her to meet,
was surprisingly pleasant. That is, until he tried to convince Sophie to sing
with him. He looked pretty loose himself as he perused the karaoke menu, trying
to make a choice. “How about that Prince song?

You
Got the Look’
?”

“Uh, noooo,” Sophie replied. “If you
want to do a song, you better make it a solo. You’re not getting me up there.”

“Hey, if a paunchy little guy like me is
willing to get up there, then a gorgeous girl like you should have no trouble.”
Sophie turned to Lisa with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Lisa said.
“She’s done karaoke before. She and I sang ‘
Love Will Keep Us
Together’
a
few years ago
.

“That was never to be spoken of again,”
Sophie warned. They all turned to watch the person on stage, who was doing a
soulful rendition of

You Are So Beautiful”
.

“These people who take themselves so
seriously are something else,” Tim said. “You can’t do a song like that in a karaoke
bar. It has to be something fun.” He studied the menu a little longer. “Here.
This is the one.

Don’t
Go Breaking My Heart’
. I’m gonna go put in the request.”

“He’s crazy if he thinks I’m singing
with him,” Sophie said. “Anyway, ya think they have any music from this
century? The poor guy is stuck in the 70s and 80s!”

“Have another drink. You’ll sing it,”
Lisa replied.

“Oh, no I won’t.”

Sure enough, a half hour and two rum and
cokes later, Sophie was on the stage with Tim, completely mutilating the Elton
John tune. The people on the floor were singing along, dancing and having a
great time. When the song was over, the audience clapped and cheered. Tim
motioned toward Sophie as a game show host might show off a brand new car,
encouraging the crowd even more. She gave a quick bow, then sheepishly left the
stage.

Tim headed for the restroom while Sophie
sat down at the end of the very long table that seated their group.

“That was great, Soph!” Lisa said. “You
were so Kiki Dee.”

“What can I say? The music spoke to me.”

“You gotta give Tim a lot of credit for
getting you up there. Isn’t he fun?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Soph, I’ve been trying not to ask you
this all night,” Lisa began, exchanging a look with her husband, Jerry. “But
now that Tim’s gone—what the hell happened to your bangs? You did that on
purpose, didn’t you?”

“Now, why would I chop them on purpose? But
you know I can’t stand it when they get too long.”

“So you decide to butcher them the night
you knew you were going to meet him?” Lisa asked. “Come on! You’re sabotaging
yourself. They’re sticking straight up, and you look like Cameron Diaz in the
bar scene in
Something
About Mary
.” Jerry hooted.

“Okay, maybe I got them a little short.
They’re not that bad, are they?” Sophie pulled a compact from her purse, dipped
her fingers in her water glass and dabbed her hair to try to tame it. Her eyes
eventually wandered to the other end of their table, when she did a
double-take. There he was again. Sitting next to someone in their group was the
man she’d seen in the store.
Two
different
stores. He glanced at her and grinned, then turned back to his conversation.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” Lisa asked.

“Who is that guy talking to Kurt?”

Lisa peeked in his direction. “Oh, he’s
a new teacher at our school. Stan? Sam? I can’t remember. Teaches English. You
haven’t met him yet?”

“Hey, guys,” Tim said when he returned. “I’m
really sorry, Sophie, but my sister just called. She’s stranded with a flat,
and I told her I’d come help her. I gotta go.”

“That’s okay,” Sophie said.

“You got a ride home?”

“Yeah, I came with these guys.” The
question kind of rubbed Sophie the wrong way. Was he just assuming he would be
driving her home?

“I had a lot of fun,” he said.

“Me, too.”

Lisa waited to make sure he had gone, and
then wasted no time grilling Sophie. “So, what do you think? I think it went
pretty well, despite your hair mishap. I give the guy credit for keeping a
straight face.”

Sophie didn’t hear a word Lisa said, but
tried her best to look Sam’s way without him noticing. He gave her a wave.

“Oh my God!” she repeated, having a
horrifying realization. “Was he sitting there while I was singing?”

“I’m not sure. I think he got here about
halfway through. Why do you keep asking about him?”

Sam got up from his seat and started
making his way toward them.

“Shit! He’s coming over here.”

“Sophie, what is your problem?”

Sophie’s heartbeat went into overdrive.
Was she having a cardiac arrest? No, that wasn’t right. That’s when you have no
heartbeat.

“Hi,” he said, standing directly in
front Sophie.

“Hi there,” Lisa replied. “I’m sorry—I
don’t remember your name.”

“It’s Sam,” he answered, introducing
himself to Lisa and her husband. “You put on a pretty good show up there,
Sophie.”

She put her elbow on the table and
covered her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Have a seat.” Lisa motioned to the spot
across from Sophie that Tim had vacated.

“Thanks. Did Sophie tell you how we seem
to keep bumping into each other?”

“No, she didn’t.” Lisa eyed Sophie and
playfully flipped her red hair.

“She probably thinks I’m stalking her,”
he joked.

“No, I don’t think that,” Sophie
replied, but now that he said it, she began to wonder.

“How many times have you guys run into
each other?” Jerry asked.

“This makes three?” Sophie looked at
Sam.

“Must be fate,” was Sam's response.

“Sophie, you’re blushing!” Lisa said.

“No, I’m not! Lisa said you teach at our
school,” Sophie eagerly changed the subject. “She’s not serious, is she?” She
hadn’t intended for her question to sound as rude as it did. “I just meant it’s
hugely weird, is all.”

“No, no . . . it’s true,” he answered.

The upbeat music had stopped and patrons
were slow dancing.

“Hey, come dance with me, kiddo,” Jerry
offered, taking Lisa’s hand to walk her to the floor. Sophie and Sam sat in
silence for a few moments, watching the two of them chatter and laugh.

She felt Sam’s eyes shift to her, yet
didn’t understand why she was hesitant to turn his way. Maybe the alcohol she’d
consumed would only intensify the effect he had on her the times before.  

“Do you . . .” he began.  “Do you want
to dance?”

“. . . Okay.”

She walked ahead of him, tripping over a
chair leg as she went. Really? He probably thought she was sloshed. When they
reached the dance floor, they fumbled with positioning of their hands before
she finally placed hers on his shoulders. Why was that so clumsy? Where else
were their hands supposed to go? But then he took one of her hands and held it
in his. She thought it kind of sweet.

As he pulled her in just a bit, careful
not to be presumptuous, she had to stifle a giggle. A giggle! She was suddenly
back in the sixth grade, dancing with her first real crush, nursing that sweet
commotion going on in her stomach.

For a short while they watched the other
couples, which was all the more awkward because the distance between them
demanded that they look at one another. She couldn’t deny that she was
strangely drawn to him, but she wished she had never agreed to dance. This
whole thing was painfully unsettling, but in a good way.

Finally, she met his eyes. Why did she
feel as if it would be the most natural thing in the world to kiss him?

“I know you, don’t I?” he said, more as
a statement than a question. Before she had a chance to respond, he shook his
head. “
Agh
, I told myself I wasn’t going to say that. The line is so
overplayed.”

“You’re forgiven,” she replied. “But
only because it feels like I know you, too.”

“Really?” He sighed with relief. “I was
trying to think of any words but those. I wanted to say it the second time I
saw you, but, well. . . .”

She said nothing, but instead found
herself preoccupied with the thick, dark hair that curled just above his ear,
staring so long that the world beyond became a blur of motion and light. The
song that played had long been one of her favorites, but tonight the melody
hung hauntingly in her ears. Her gaze wandered to his shoulder, where her hand
seemed to meld into his soft cotton shirt. She no longer beheld him in his
entirety, but instead registered glimpses that were inexplicably calming. His
jawline with just a hint of stubble, the curve of his mouth as he spoke, the
kindness in his eyes.  

She blinked, trying to clear her head.
How
much have I had to drink anyway?
Suddenly realizing that he had stopped
talking, she broke from her fog. “I’m sorry. . . .”

“Maybe we
have
met,
and we just don’t remember,” he continued, unoffended. “Could we have gone to
school together?”

“I don’t think so. I may not remember
names of people I went to school with, but I usually remember faces.” Besides,
it was more of a feeling than a look.

“What high school did you go to?” he
asked.

“Clark.”

“That can’t be it. I went to Vegas. What
about junior high?”

“I don’t think we met at school.” She
found it charming that he seemed equally perplexed by the accord between them.

“At any rate, I’m glad we finally met,
someplace other than a store,” he added. “So what do you teach, and how come I
haven’t seen you at school?”

“Probably because I’m tucked away in one
of the computer labs off the beaten path.”

“Computers. Very cool.”

The discomfort Sophie felt when they
first began dancing disappeared, and she was now oddly at home, even though
they were silent for the rest of the song. They stared at one another, each
with the faintest of smiles. Sam brought Sophie’s hand to his chest and held it
there, as his other hand rested just above the tied bow on the back of her
floral sundress. Sophie rarely wore dresses, if ever, but was glad she did
tonight. She felt very girly, feminine, like she was in some romantic scene of
a movie.

He briefly shifted his view to the top
of her head, then pursed his lips and turned away, trying to be discreet. She’d
forgotten all about it until now. “It’s my bangs, isn’t it?” She lifted her
hand to do something with them. “Oh God, how bad is it?”

“Yeah, they kinda got a mind of their
own,” he admitted. He bent down to get a better look, his expression all
business, as he gently tried to coax the unruly strands with his fingers. With
his face directly in front of hers, she scrunched her mouth and stared at the
ceiling, trying to endure this ridiculous moment. Lisa was absolutely right.
Why
did you have to take the scissors to them today? And you thought the reprimand
from your hair dresser would be bad enough.
Out
of the corner of her eye, she caught Lisa shaking her head and laughing.

Six

“How
is she feeling? Any better?” Sophie asked as Christian let her in.

“She says the pain is starting to let
up, but you know how she is. She won’t let on.”

Christian had phoned Sophie to let her
know that Evelyn had been having chest pains, so bad that she needed him to
pick her up from work the night before. Evelyn was a hostess at a very high-end
restaurant on the Strip. She was once a teacher, like Sophie, but when
Christian stopped working, she needed something that paid better. For the most
part, the position was ideal. It paid very well in the way of tips, and wasn’t
physically strenuous. However, it still required a lot of hours on her feet.

“Has she been to the doctor?” Sophie
headed toward their kitchen with a sack of groceries she picked up at the
health food store.

“Yeah. I took her this morning.” He took
the bag from her and began putting the food into the refrigerator. “It’s the
pleurisy again.” Evelyn had suffered through this inflammation of the lining of
her lungs many times.

“How has she been eating? Is she eating
well?” She realized she was giving him the third degree, but didn’t care.

“No,” he answered. “She just grabs
whatever is convenient. I keep telling her she needs to eat better.”

Sophie’s spirits from the night before
were deflating at a rapid pace. She stepped between him and the refrigerator,
then firmly took him by the shoulders. “Christian,” she said, trying to be as
diplomatic as possible. “Did it ever cross your mind to cook something for her,
so she doesn’t have to grab whatever?”
Or are your stupid
drawings all you care about?

He simply stared at her.

My God, I have got to find her a new
husband!
She
clenched her hands and shook her head. He knew. He knew that stress aggravated
her illness. He knew that lack of rest did the same. All of it!

She took a seat at the kitchen table.
“Why can’t you just
help
her?
Even a little bit?”

“What’s going on?” Evie appeared in the
kitchen, wearing a long silk nightgown. “Soph, what are you doing here?” Christian
stood there with a pained expression on his face, while Sophie tried to calm
herself. Evie studied one, then the other, waiting for a response.

“I just thought I’d bring by some food,”
Sophie replied.

“I called her,” Christian said. “And
told her you’d been sick. I thought you might want to see her.”

Sophie tried to make sense of the
unspoken communication that went on between them. Evie was clearly upset that
he had told Sophie she wasn’t feeling well, but then came the flash of
recognition over her sister’s face. Christian then swiveled his body and stared
at the microwave. Sophie was confused by the whole exchange.

“I’m gonna go out for awhile. Let you
spend some time with Sophie.” As Christian passed Evie, he kissed her.

“Chris. . . .” 

He smiled dismally before closing the
front door behind him.

Evie remained where she was, shoulders
drooping, and brought her hand to her forehead. “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing. I just told him he needs to
help you more,” Sophie answered gingerly. “How are you feeling?”

Evie couldn’t contain her tears any
longer and fled to the living room. Sophie jumped up to follow her.

Her sister was hunched over on the
couch, elbows on her knees, when Sophie sat down and ran her fingers through
her hair to soothe her. “What is it? What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“What’s wrong is that I need to be able
to vent! I need to be able to talk to my own sister without her judging me, or
telling me what to do!”

Sophie sat upright, taken aback. “What? What
do you mean?”

“Do you know why he called you over
here?” Evie asked. Sophie shrugged. Evie slumped back into the couch with her
arms lifeless at her sides. “He thinks I should leave him.” She paused, waiting
for some sort of reaction from Sophie.

Sophie took a deep breath, because she
was dying to say,
Then do it!
She
stopped herself. “What has that got to do with him calling me?”

Evie pushed her hair from her face and
stared up at the ceiling. “Because he knows that you don’t like him, and—”

“It’s not that I—”

“Let me finish. Please!”

Sophie complied.

“He knows that you don’t like him, and since
he hasn’t been able to convince me to leave him, he hopes you’ll come over,
point out every single thing he’s doing wrong, and that I’ll listen to you.”

Sophie lowered her eyes.

“Like I’m some ignoramus who can’t think
for myself!” Evie gave her a pointed stare.

Sophie fumbled for words. “I’m sorry. I
wasn’t meaning to.”

The last thing she wanted to do was
create more stress for her sister, but that’s exactly what she was doing.
Clearly, Evie was far more annoyed with Sophie right now than Christian.  Truthfully,
she wasn’t even sure if Evie was annoyed with Christian at all. How could that
be?

She rested her head on Evie’s fragile
chest, her way of admitting she’d crossed a line. She wished that they were as
close as they used to be, but her distaste for Christian these past few years
had taken its toll on their relationship. As much as Sophie tried to be
supportive, or at the very least, keep her mouth shut where he was concerned,
she just couldn’t seem to do it.

Evie put her arm around her. “This is
why I don’t share things with you,” she explained. “I want to, but you can’t
try to fix things. I’m a big girl.” She patted Sophie on the knee. “I’m your
big sister.”

Sophie sat up, considering her words. “I
don’t like seeing you sick, and I want you to be happy.”

“I know. But nobody’s happy all the
time, Sophie. Just be here for me.”

Sophie wasn’t sure she could pull it
off. Being there for Evie always meant offering her two cents.

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