“Don’t throw the class card at me, Wade. Look, I didn’t have you move to California to get mixed up with another problem. Women seem to cause you more harm than good.”
“So… I didn’t realize when you gave me a job, you’d also be monitoring my dating habits.”
Richard shook his head and rolled his eyes. “If Sophia is a great gal, then it’s all right. But you deserve someone who’s going to make you feel better than you ever have—and I’m not talking in pussy-language—it’s deeper than that.”
Richard and I locked eyes and stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. We’d been close friends for so long we could do this without feeling weird from the silence or lack of eye movement. Finally Richard gave in, blinked his eyes, and belted out a laugh.
“Okay, go home and get served by a naked woman. Promise to text me pictures if she lets you take any.”
Within thirty minutes I was speeding up the hill on Capital Avenue, snaking around cars to shorten the drive home. I walked through the front door and noticed the coffee table in front of the new leather couch was set with two black pillar candles, bamboo placemats, a full complement of utensils, wine glasses filled with ice water, and two square throw pillows positioned on the floor below. For lack of a dining table, Sophia transformed the coffee table into a romantic culinary arena. I could smell a combination of spices intermingling with a sweet sugary aroma.
“I’m home.”
“Perfect timing,” Sophia said. With her back turned to me, she peered into the oven. Three bowed straps left a six-inch gap in the back of her black apron. The naked skin tease was a beautiful sight as she remained in the bent over position staring intently into the oven. “When you’re cleaned up, go ahead and sit down on the pillow at the head of the table.”
After washing my hands in the bathroom, I returned to the living room and sat cross-legged on the pillow as Sophia had instructed and sat in silence. She remained in the kitchen performing the finishing touches on the dinner. A minute later, I heard the delicate patter of her bare feet on the carpet.
“This is asparagus with a corn and tomato salsa, drizzled with Rose Queen dressing,” she said. She set one plate at the top right corner of the placemat in front of me, and the other at her setting.
Sophia turned around after depositing the plates to reveal her bare backside. My eyes zeroed in on her buttocks, perfectly shaped and unblemished twin orbs. I pushed my hands on the floor to lift my body and jutted my head forward, planting a kiss on her right cheek.
“Beautiful,” I commented.
“The asparagus?” she turned and said.
“I was actually talking about your ass.”
“Oh,” she whispered deeply. “The back of me looks good?”
“Good enough to eat.”
“Well, why don’t you start with the asparagus.”
She smiled and walked into the kitchen, giving me an extended head-to-toe back view. I waited on my pillow as she returned with two large plates.
“For the entrée, we have spinach enchiladas on wheat tortillas, adrift in crema de chile, and on the side are three small homemade sweet tamales, because you’re so sweet.”
I looked down at the full plate with the enchiladas, covered in jack cheese and a white cream-based sauce, then focused on the tamales. The tamales were not wrapped in the traditional restaurant way, rather the corn husks were wrapped more like cough lozenges, twisted at both ends.
“Wonderful,” I said. “This looks great. Where does a Greek girl learn how to cook Mexican?”
“My grandmother on my mom’s side was from Mexico. So we grew up with this kind of food.”
Sophia settled on her pillow while I ate all of my asparaguses. The Rose Queen dressing hit my taste buds with a spark—a tangy sweet oil and vinegar sensation.
“Do you wish for anything else before I start eating?” Sophia asked as she unruffled her napkin and placed it on her lap.
“I wish you’d wear that apron every night.”
“Not very practical for everyday use, but I’ll keep it in mind.”
I had already dug into the spinach enchiladas when I remembered that I had just started taking Nardil that afternoon. Cheese was a forbidden food item while on the drug, it was even in bold print on the disclaimer I had ripped up. I tried to shrug it off, savoring the meal too much to worry about drug side effects. But apprehension about the Nardil instilled an anxiety shot. I was also beginning to feel somewhat tired, not in a “hard day’s work” way, but more in the way of a groggy drunken stupor. I kept eating without a pause until the food was gone.
“Will you please spend the night again?” I beseeched her as I chewed the last bite of sweet tamale.
“You know, that’ll make seven nights in a row,” Sophia noted.
“Really? It doesn’t seem like it. Is that too much closeness?”
“No, not really. I was hoping I could stay over tonight anyway. I called my mom to make sure the phone bill was paid this month—and it was—but my mom and Alexa were having another argument when I called. When they’re really going at each other, it gets hard to sleep.”
“Yeah, I don’t know how you put up with the shrieking.”
“I don’t know. They’re just two angry women. My mom is a nervous wreck, and Alexa sometimes takes advantage of that.”
“Well, I’m glad you want to spend the night. I hope you’re not doing it solely to get away from your mother and sister.”
“No, that’s not why. The main reason is to be with you, the family’s another situation.” Sophia cocked her head temperately and asked, “You like me being here?”
“Yes. In fact, I think we should shoot for seventy nights in a row, by that time we’ll know if we are meant to be together.”
“Seventy nights starting when?”
“I’ll prorate you the past six nights, so we’ve got sixty-four nights left.”
“That’ll take us into August,” Sophia noted. “What about after that?”
My mind slowed down during dinner, perhaps from the satiating food or the combination of Nardil and Xanax. “I don’t know… but it will be fun finding out,” I said, noticing a faint involuntary slur in my voice.
“Are you tired or something?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds and then reopened them. “I started taking some medication today and I think it’s making me tired.”
Sophia pursed her lips before responding. “I saw the pill bottles in the bathroom. I know what Xanax is. I have some friends who like to take that. The other one—Nardil?—I don’t know what that’s for.”
In the past, I would have deemed this as snooping in my personal things, but with Sophia, it didn’t seem to disturb me. The lack of agitation surprised my cerebral senses for a moment; the thought that I was getting emotionally close to someone, like actually being a true, trusting couple. It was foreign to me.
“You remember the night at Poquito Gato and a few other times when you said I looked like something was wrong?”
Sophia nodded.
“That’s what they’re for,” I said. “Also, I’m not supposed to have any cheese because of a drug interaction.”
“Well, you just ate a lot of cheese,” Sophia said as her eyes directed downward to my empty plate. “You’ll need to tell me these things.”
“That’s okay, it was awesomely delicious. I’ll take the risk.”
“Then from now on I’ll make you the best non-cheese meals you’ve ever had.”
Sophia lifted herself from the pillow seat and bent down behind me. She nestled her hands under my armpits and lifted me to my feet. Her strength surprised me as she guided me to the couch. I let my body settle in the leather as she gently lowered me.
“You rest while I clean up the kitchen. Then I’ll take my apron off and wa
ke you up.”
“I can hardly wait,” I said.
Sophia stepped back slowly to prolong the view of her body, then turned her head and said in a lowered, yet confident tone, “After seventy nights of me, you won’t need drugs anymore.”
19. The Pact
“Happy twentieth night together,” I declared to Sophia as I finished the last bite of my no-cheese lasagna dinner.
“I didn’t know you were counting, but that’s right, it is our twentieth straight night.”
I learned in a very short time that Sophia prided herself on having a home-cooked meal ready when I returned from work. She got off from her teacher’s assistant job at noon three times a week. In addition to making dinner, on the long afternoons she would write very suggestive letters I looked forward to reading when I came home.
“I didn’t know lasagna could be made without cheese.”
Sophia grinned. “When you put love into your cooking, anything can be made.”
“You put love in your cooking for me?” I asked.
“Of course. I’m following an online list of forbidden foods you can’t eat while taking Nardil. That way, you won’t get a massive headache like you did the night you ate those enchiladas.” She disappeared around the small wall beside the kitchen entry. “I’ll keep you healthy—except for the banana cream pie I made for dessert.”
“I can eat bananas? I thought that was on the list?”
Sophia came out from behind the kitchen wall and shook her head evenly. “It is on the list, but it’s just the little strings in the crevices of the bananas that are bad. You know those thin strands that kind of pull off when you peel them? I removed all of the strings from them before I made the pie.”
“Wow,” I said to myself.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
I blew out a breath and sat on the couch. “Yeah, a little bit. I think my body’s still getting used to that Nardil.”
She withdrew her head from sight again, but I continued staring in her direction. I thought about our concentrated, yet intimate relationship that showed no early indication of distress. The yearning to be with her all the time conflicted with the apprehensive second-guesses I had about jumping into cohabitation—especially since I was engaged to Pamela just a couple of months before. I held to my beliefs that Sophia was as genuine as she seemed and wouldn’t become just another female lapse of judgment on my part. While I was still staring, she walked out of the kitchen and nestled next to me on the couch. I gave her a quick peck on the lips.
“So, how are things at your apartment?” I asked.
“About the same. Alexa and my mom are still on each other’s ass, and they’re turning the place into a sty.”
“Are they mad at you for staying over here?”
“No, not at all. They like you. Just so I keep paying my share of the rent, they’ll be fine.”
“You know, why don’t you bring some of your clothes over here so you don’t have to run over there every day? I’d even pay your share of the rent for you.”
She raised her right eyebrow in a gesture that could’ve been construed as anger, but it was more a signal of her resolve to earn her keep. “You don’t have to pay my rent. Just make sure I have enough for groceries.” She panned her head from one end of the narrow living room to the other. “You’re going to give me some space here?”
From experience, I knew this is the way cohabitation was initiated. One drawer, then two, then the bathroom, then the kitchen, then wall hangings and so on. I wanted Sophia close to me, the genuine intimate feeling was trying to unsettle my emotions, but I conceded fully.
“Sure, you can have as many drawers as you want—and half the closet,” I said.
“Are you asking me to move in?”
“Well, as long as you’re going to be here for at least fifty more nights, I think logistically it’d be wise for you to bring some clothes over. I mean, you’ve been packing up your toothbrush and toiletries every day, only to bring them back at night.”
“You think you’re up for that? Being newly dis-engaged and all to Pamela.”
“You know, that seems like a lifetime ago. It’s weird. It’s almost like it never happened. But as far as being ‘up for it,’ there are some things I’d like to tell you. Things I’ve gone through.”
Sophia hesitated. The upward cast of her eyes informed me she was calculating her words. “You don’t have to tell me any deep dark secrets, but I have noticed some things about you,” she said.
“I know you probably have.”
Sophia directed her glance to the small dining area. “Did you see the ironing board is missing?”
I looked and noticed the middle of the room was empty. “Where is it?” I asked.
“It’s safely tucked away in the hall closet. You work on the docks wearing jeans and a company shirt. Why do you compulsively iron all your clothes?”
“I don’t know why. I guess I just feel more secure and relaxed with nicely pressed clothes.”
Sophia smiled. “Well, I’ll help you relax without having the most unwrinkled clothes in the world. I won’t pass any judgment on you if your boxer shorts have a couple of wrinkles in them.”
“Okay, thanks. I guess that habit has got a little out of hand.”
“Like I said, I don’t need to know all your secrets, but I would like to know what’s going on with the medication.”
“The medication is my dark secret.” I paused and folded my arms. “As you’ve probably figured out, my mental state is sometimes unstable, not in a dangerous way to the outside world; there are just rickety episodes that affect me greatly. You’ve seen it happen to me a couple of times. But since being with you steadily, my anxiety seems to be receding. Just recently, I can live a normal life around town—go to work, eat at a restaurant, wait in line in a grocery store, get stuck in traffic. It’s just traveling… I can’t travel very far away from home or else I start freaking out.”
“How far can you travel?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes it’s twenty miles, other times I can go fifty, maybe a hundred miles. It’s real tough though. I wouldn’t be able to drive alone much past that.”
“What would happen if you did?”
“I’ve tried it. I just turn around and head back to safety.”
Sophia’s expression remained neutral. “So, that’s your sordid little secret, you don’t like to travel?”
“It’s more than that. Traveling is very important to me. I’ve been all over the world and it’s so frustrating—”
“Shhhh,” Sophia gestured and put her index finger to my lips. “I’ve spent my whole life in San Pedro and haven’t been any farther than Tijuana. And I’ve always thought I would be here all my life. If that turns out to be the case, then I want to be with someone I love truly and enjoy—and who loves their life with me.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Are you talking about love?”
“Loving you? Yes,” she said. “So much so that I’ll make you a deal. Take me places where I’ve never been. I don’t care where we go, or how far away. If there are problems, I’ll get you back safe and secure.”
“I can probably take you some places, maybe Santa Barbara or Palm Springs, but I don’t think I can take you flying anywhere.”
“I don’t care about flying,” Sophia stated as if discussing the least important issue in the world. “I’ve never even been on a plane. Let’s just drive somewhere… anywhere. There’s one stipulation, though.”
My eyes widened as my heart pumped a couple of rapid, accentuated beats. “What’s that?”
“You do it without medication. I’ve never taken a drug in my adult life—prescription or otherwise. That medicine is dragging you down.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
She registered the onrushing terror env
eloping my face before continuing. “I promise you’ll be safe. I’ll take care of you. Before you know it, you won’t even dwell on the pills, and I bet you’ll feel better than you think.”
“We can go somewhere close, but I don’t know how I’d feel without the medication. I carry some with me all the time.”
“Okay, then I’ll compromise. I’ll carry your pills with me. Would that make you feel more secure?”
“That would be better. I just have to wean the dosages for the next week.”
“I’ll be your nurse.”
“Will you be a nasty nurse?”
She moved her lips close until they lightly tickled my right ear. “The nastiest,” she whispered.
“Awesome!”
“Then it’s settled,” she said. “This is the most I can give you. I don’t have any material things.”
“This is more than anyone outside my family has ever given me.”
“I can always give you hope, that’s the easy part.”
“Let’s go get your stuff,” I said.
We drove to Sophia’s apartment and I waited in the car while she got her things. The move was obviously a simple one. All she owned were three pairs of jeans, five pairs of tight bicycling shorts, five pairs of thong underwear, a few bras, a handful of t-shirts, and a pair of high-top tennis shoes. Except for a couple of knick-knacks and her car, that was about it. It was not Sophia’s nature to need much. She was used to surviving in sparse materialistic surroundings for much of her life. We returned to my apartment and she gathered her things to bring inside.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked as I opened the front door.
She grinned and adjusted the bundle of clothing tucked under her right arm. “I’m sure. How else could we honor our seventy night pact?” As she made her way to the bedroom, she stopped and lifted her left arm in the air, her finger pointing upward. “Wait, I forgot something. Before I put these clothes away and move in officially, I have one question for you.”
Sophia returned to the living room and set her clothes on the coffee table. She curled her finger in a back and forth gesture, summoning me to follow her into the bedroom. She opened the middle drawer of the dresser and dug under my folded t-shirts. A pair of red panties appeared in her hand.
Life Unbothered Page 14