To her surprise, he nodded. “I understand. I don’t drink either.”
“No?”
“Nah. My parents are Muslim.”
Her eyes widened. She couldn’t wait until Ava heard that. “Muslim? I wouldn’t have guessed. So, you don’t eat pork? And you pray throughout the day?” That threw a wrench in her plans. Could they still be married by a minister? Would he expect her to fast during Ramadan? Why didn’t she know this before?
But he was shaking his head. “I don’t practice like I should, but I keep some of the tenets, and keepin’ my body pure is one of ’em. So, no alcohol for me.”
“I see,” she said slowly, processing the news. The fact that Jabari didn’t drink actually fit quite well into the life she had imagined for them. “So what do you think about us? I mean, this is the critical development time of our relationship—the time to set the stage for where we want to go.”
Jabari leaned in for a kiss, and his hand wandered as she kissed him back. Every time she brought up the topic of their relationship, he tried to distract her. She knew he’d rather kiss her and rub her booty, but tonight they were going to talk.
“Stop.” She giggled and pulled his hand from beneath her t-shirt. “I’m serious.”
“Me too.” He tried a different distraction. This time it worked.
Ten minutes later he was dressed and on the veranda talking on his cell. It had been kind of anticlimactic for their first time, but Sophie wasn’t opposed to trying again another day. He had been gentle and passionate, so she didn’t regret it. Wearing only her t-shirt, Sophie went into the kitchen to put the uneaten take-out in her fridge. There wasn’t much space next to the food she had prepared for brunch with the girls the next day.
“I said no!” she heard Jabari hiss. “I’m on shift!” She stood close to the kitchen door so she was within earshot of his conversation, but the wind and passing cars stopped her from hearing more than a few unintelligible whispers before he returned. She moved to the sink, pretending to be washing a glass.
He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. “Thanks for a cool time,” he said, and his expression softened as he looked at her. “I wasn’t expectin’ that.”
“Wait. Are you leaving?” Sophie asked, her mouth dropping open in surprise. What the hell kind of hit-it-and-quit-it game was he playing?
“I told you I had to go help my aunt.”
“But it’s almost eleven.” And we just had sex.
“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “My aunt be buggin’. You don’t wanna get on her bad side.”
Sophie frowned as Jabari kissed her softly again and left the apartment, closing the door quietly behind him. She didn’t care about his aunt’s bad side. She wanted to know why all of a sudden, he couldn’t spend the night. She wasn’t the suspicious type, but something was up, and she intended to find out what it was.
FIVE
Sophie put a platter of fruit and some gourmet cookies on the table in preparation for Anaya and Catie’s arrival. After Catie’s clothing store had taken off, the trio had gone from hanging out most nights to Sunday brunches and group texts. Anaya’s new work project meant they spent even less time together.
After last night’s shenanigans with Jabari, Sophie was happy to hang out with her girls. Her newly remodeled Rockridge townhouse looked zen with triple-hued accent walls, Middle Eastern tapestries, and mandala wallpaper. She preferred cushions to chairs, and her new rug pulled it all together perfectly.
Sophia Inez Mondrágon Beat had ninety-nine problems, but money wasn’t one.
As she stepped out of the kitchen with some glasses, Catie walked in the front door. Her short bob was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wasn’t wearing makeup. She was a glowing mix of hormonal fluctuations and expensive facials.
Without even looking around, Catie said, “Your place looks great. But you need to keep your front door locked. There are crazy people out there.”
“Yeah, one just walked in,” Sophie joked. “It’s nice to see you too.” Sophie closed the door behind her and pecked Catie on the cheek. “And you should smile more, it’s good for the baby.”
“Smiling is useless. Can you put this CD in?” Catie waved a disc in Sophie’s face, and Sophie popped it into her stereo.
“What is this?” Sophie asked at the first strum of a cello.
“Expand your horizons and give Kendrick Lamar a break, will you?” Catie said. “It’s Bach. I read that it’s good for the baby’s brain development. This baby’s going to Yale.” She rubbed her stomach.
“Do you actually believe that?” Sophie asked.
“Sure do,” Catie said. “Just like you believe you can find lasting love on the World Wide Web.” She picked up a cushion from the chaise, then looked around the room as if seeing the newly decorated space for the first time. “Dang, Sophie, it looks amazing in here.”
Sophie brought out the appetizers while Catie took photos of the new decor. While taking photos, she started scrolling through her phone. “Oh my goodness. Have you seen Janet Jackson’s baby? He’s getting so big!”
“You know I haven’t seen anybody’s baby.”
Catie rolled her eyes. “Will you puh-leeze get an Instagram account? Step into the new century, Sophia.”
“Nope. Not interested.” After growing up beneath the watchful cameras of the paparazzi, Sophie had no desire to electronically embalm every facet of her life.
“Oh, you’re interested. You’re just interested in those dang-blasted sites that have men plastered all over them.”
“Sad, but true.” Sophie laughed and carefully arranged the cucumbers on a deep blue ceramic plate before looking up at Catie. “And it might have paid off.”
Catie’s reaction was predictable. “The one? Again?”
The last time Sophie found the one it was Luke the math teacher, who was double jointed and chain-smoked. Then the one had been Tyrone, the saxophone player with double chins. And who could forget Adrian, the real estate agent with four kids by four different women? And finally, there was Brian who was born Brenda and didn’t wear shoes. All four of them had been the one, and none of them had lasted longer than a week. That’s why Sophie promised herself not to tell the girls about the next man until they had sex, and, well . . .
“For real, for real,” Sophie said. She decided not to say anything about the differences between real-life Jabari and online Jabari. Online Jabari quoted E. E. Cummings and preferred soft jazz. Real-life Jabari favored underground rap. Online Jabari was cerebral, and real-life Jabari thought cerebral was something you ate with milk.
Catie dramatically put her hand over her heart. “Where did you get this rug?”
“India.” Sophie loved collecting art pieces from her travels, and it was fairly easy to do since her dad bought whatever she wanted.
“It’s beautiful. And how was that trip with your dad? I know we texted about it, but I need details. But first, spill on Uncle Terry’s new girlfriend. Is she nice? Is she a gold digger? Is she ugly in person?”
Sophie shrugged and poured Catie a glass of ginger ale. “She looks the same in person as she does on television.” She decided not to comment further.
“Well, Terry seems happy, so good for him,” Catie said. She snapped another picture of the wallpaper. “Sophia, you have to decorate the baby’s room for me. You have a real eye for décor. Why did I never know this?”
“Stop calling me Sophia. You sound like my mom.”
“That’s what I was going for.” Catie sipped her ginger ale. “Maybe if I keep sounding like her, you’ll call her. It’s sad that I talk to your mom more than you do.”
Sophie went to check on the garlic shrimp in the oven. She was used to Catie and Anaya pushing her to fix things with her mom and had accepted that her friends didn’t understand why their relationship was strained. “I do call her. I have actually invited her over a few times to see the remodel.”
“And?”
“And she’s
always busy or out of town.”
“Well, keep trying,” Catie said. “Can you do the room or not?”
“Of course. As long as it’s okay with Antoine.”
“Make sure it’s okay with Antoine?” Catie stared at her friend with narrowed eyes. “What the hell? I’m not making sure anything is okay with him.”
Sophie held up hands in surrender, surprised by Catie’s outburst. “Catie, you’re part of a team. Don’t think of it as asking for permission. Think of it as being a team player. It’s about respect.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Catie waved her hand as if to wave Sophie’s comment away.
“You have to compromise, communicate, and connect in a relationship,” Sophie said, enumerating each action with her fingers. “The three C’s. We talked about this before. I have a workbook that you and Antoine can use. You need to release that anger, Catie. I don’t know all the stuff you’re holding onto, but you need to let it go so you can love Antoine and your baby unconditionally.”
Catie groaned. “If I had known I was gonna get psychoanalyzed, I would’ve stayed home.” She reached for the bowl of grapes and pulled out a bunch. “You know how hard it is for me to put on clothes these days?”
“Catie, I’m serious.”
Catie pointed at Sophie. “See, that’s why you can’t get a date. You get too deep at the wrong times. Look, nothing is consuming me except this growing baby, who won’t let me be great and wear Chanel.”
“Fine. If you’re not ready to acknowledge your issues, I can’t make you. Anyway, let me tell you about Jabari.”
But Jabari would have to wait, because Anaya burst through the door with apologies and a beautiful bouquet of flowers. “Ladies! I’m sorry I’m late. I got tied up with a work issue, had to drop something off to Aunt Deb, then as I was headed out the door, Daddy got to talking. You know how he is, and as my luck would have it, I got a flat and had to Uber over, but here I am!”
“Anaya, thank God you’re finally here. Sophie’s was just about to tell me about her new man. I need you.” Catie put the back of her hand on her forehead and sat down on Sophie’s recliner since the cushions were too low to navigate in her second trimester.
“Well, I’m here, and . . .” Anaya looked around the room with wide eyes, “your place looks amazing, Sophie Beat! I see why you kept us away until you were finished decorating.”
Sophie beamed at her. “Thanks, girl.”
“But what is this music?” Anaya crinkled her forehead and sat down on the chaise.
“I don’t know. Ask Catie.” Sophie shrugged.
“Bach. Cantata number 79. It’s the Mozart effect. I read that it’s good for the baby’s brain development. Babies who listen to classical music, particularly Bach, have higher IQs and get into better colleges.”
Sophie was pretty sure the Mozart effect had been disproved, but she held her tongue. She wanted to tell her girls about Jabari. “So Jabari . . .”
Half an hour and several hundred arpeggios later, Sophie finished telling Catie and Anaya all about Jabari, even admitting the part about the birthday candle she bought for his aunt two weeks ago.
“Have you met his aunt?” Anaya asked with wide eyes.
Sophie shook her head.
“Well, why in the heck did you get her a birthday gift?” Catie propped her feet on the mustard-colored leather ottoman.
“If you must know, I wanted to take the lead on exemplifying kindness. I thought it would bring us closer so we can overcome the typical trust issues couples have when one member has emotional problems. This becomes particularly important if that person has a history of abandonment or disappointment, and they have a hard time reciprocating love and kindness. It is sometimes one sided but is not to be confused with a parasocial relationship. Also, past trauma increases the chance of frontal lobe dysfunction, so social behaviors get mixed up.”
“True.” Anaya nodded vigorously.
“I hate it when you talk like that,” Catie said, exasperated.
“It’s like fatalism versus coincidence.”
“Yup, pretty much.” Anaya nodded.
“You know what that stuff means, Ny?” Catie looked confused.
“No, but it sounds good, doesn’t it?” Anaya shrugged.
“Sophie, please just tell us in clear words why you bought a friggin’ gift for someone you never met, and do so without the persnickety psychobabble.”
Anaya held up a hand. “Hold up. Catie, why are you talking like that?”
“Like what?”
“Persnickety? Friggin’? Are you on curse-word probation or something?”
“I noticed that too,” Sophie chimed in. “She said ‘dang-blasted’ before you got here.”
Anaya leaned back in mock shock.
“Well if you must know,” Catie relented. “I’m turning over a new leaf. I don’t want to be using foul language in front of my baby. I want to use mom words like persnickety and dang-blasted. What’s wrong with that?”
“I guess my mama didn’t know that rule, she was always cursing when I was a kid,” Sophie said.
Anaya shook her head, smiling. “I think it’s great, Catie, that you want to be the best mommy you can be. It’s just weird to hear you talk that way because there are curse words out there that you invented. But I digress. Sophie, you were saying?”
“I was just trying to be supportive and dependable.” Sophie said calmly.
“Supportive of what? Are you guys in a relationship?”
“I don’t like labels.” Sophie avoided eye contact with her friends. She and Jabari certainly acted as if they were in a relationship, but despite her best efforts, they still hadn’t exactly talked about it.
Catie’s face turned red. “Are you kidding me right now, Sophie? Do you want me to eat this entire bag of gummy worms and give my baby gestational diabetes?”
“Wait, gummies? I don’t have those in my kitchen.”
“I keep a stash in my purse.” Catie pulled out the candy, but not before a shower of receipts, gum wrappers, and a small book fell from her purse. “But that’s not the point.”
Sophie picked up the book to help her bending-impaired friend. “Wow, Catie, you still carry this tiny blue Bible in your purse? You’ve been carrying that thing since I’ve known you.”
“That’s not the point either. Stay on topic,” Catie fussed, grabbing the volume and stuffing it back in her bag.
“Maybe I trusted him too fast,” Sophie said, resigned. “There’s something different about him, though, I can feel it. We match on a level that is unfounded in practicality and inexplicable by conventional definitions. We just match. And his teeth are gorgeous!”
“Now I know you didn’t understand that.” Catie looked at Anaya.
“You’re right. I didn’t.”
A timer rang in the kitchen. “Time for garlic shrimp. Gather round the table.” Sophie got up to retrieve the main course.
“Now you’re talking,” Catie said, struggling to stand up.
Sophie had just popped the first shrimp into her mouth when Anaya dropped the bombshell.
“Jeff wants to see me. Can you pass me a plate, Catie?”
Anaya’s tone was so nonchalant, that it took a moment for Sophie to register what she’d said. When it did register, the shrimp fell from Sophie’s mouth.
“Jeff who?” Catie pulled the plate she was previously going to give Anaya out of reach. “We don’t know anyone named Jeff.”
“You know who I’m talking about,” Anaya said, trying to grab it out of Catie’s hand. Catie was too quick. “Jeff Jackson.”
“Don’t try to sneak that in, Ny,” Sophie said, still shocked.
“That’s how Ny is. She’s sneaky.” Catie squinted her eyes. “Privileged people are always sneaky. You can’t trust them.”
“Wait,” Catie held up a hand. “Is this all because of that girl you and Carl saw at breakfast the other day?”
“Who, Zendaya? No,
that wasn’t even a big deal.” Anaya’s tone was defensive.
“Seemed like something to me when you sent the text,” Catie said.
“Word,” Sophie said. “But this seems a little suss.”
Anaya crossed her arms. “No. One thing has nothing to do with the other. Jeff wants to see me and I’m considering it.” She shrugged like seeing Jeff would be harmless.
Sophie considered her friend for a moment, who was refusing to meet her gaze. “Anaya, I keep telling you that you should consider third-eye chakra healing. Your emotional senses are off. You’re working too much and not taking enough time for self-care. As women, we need that, or it leads to imbalance. Imbalanced senses can have side effects that morph into physical symptoms like headaches and weight gain, and we all know how you feel about your weight.”
“Really? I have been having these headaches lately.” Anaya put her hand on her forehead.
“See?”
“Hold up, Deepak Chopra. Can you let Ny finish before you diagnose her with death by obesity? And Ny, stop being so gullible. You don’t have imbalanced senses, and you barely fit a size two. Now tell us everything about Jeff.” Catie gobbled down a mouthful of noodles.
“That’s it, really,” Anaya said. “He sent me an email yesterday saying he wanted to talk.”
“Talk about what?” Catie leaned in towards the table.
“Is he still married?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t know. I’d imagine so. I haven’t talked to him since . . .” She trailed off and focused on heaping salad onto her plate.
Sophie nodded. “Good.”
“Wow,” Catie said slowly. “So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“What I’m hearing is that you are willing to jeopardize your loving and committed relationship with Carl, a man among men, to meet with some old boyfriend who broke your heart and made you question your moral values. This feels bad to me, Ny.”
Never Too Soon Page 4