31 - Turkey Time

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The next morning, after Sophie's rescue, I released her from her promise to cook a Thanksgiving meal and took over that duty while she remained in the bedroom behind a closed door. She needed her space and some time to get over her trauma. I really worried about her well-being. How could she recover when every time she looked in the mirror her bald head would be a reminder of her humiliation?

I decided the best way to reassure Sophie would be to not ignore what had happened, while at the same time act no differently toward her. It saddened me in a profound way how a teen girl who had spent years growing her hair and taking care of it had been so degraded. I was sad and angry, but for Sophie's sake I'd act normal. I wouldn't let my bitter feelings show.

I wasn't good at preparing fancy meals but managed to not overcook the turkey. My attempt at mashed potatoes didn't go as well. They were all lumpy, and I scorched the gravy. I didn't even attempt to bake the pumpkin pie.

When everything was ready and the table was set, I knocked on the bedroom door. In a cheerful tone, I announced, "Turkey time!"

Not wanting to pressure her, I returned to the kitchen and waited. A few minutes passed. I wasn't going to force her, but it hurt my feelings when she wouldn't come, especially after I made such an effort with the meal to please her.

I sighed and took a seat, staring at the turkey sitting in the middle of the table, steam rising from the bowl of baked corn as it cooled.

Only a few weeks ago, I would've been completely content with the situation. I had been alone and preferred it that way. Sophie had changed me. I didn't want to be alone anymore.

A shadow passed over me. Sophie shuffled past and took a seat across the table. She wore her hoodie tied tight around her head and met my gaze.

I made a gesture toward the food. "I'm sure it's not as good as you could do, but I hope it meets with your approval."

Her lips quivered as she attempted a smile. She laid both arms on the tabletop with open palms and extended them toward me. At first, I didn't understand. When she kept her hands there I got it. "You want me to hold your hands?"

She nodded.

I took her hands.

She continued looking at me.

"What? What are you asking me?"

She held my gaze.

My throat went dry. "No, Sophie, I can't."

She wouldn't look away.

"I can't. Really, I can't."

She persisted.

"Sophie, please don't ask me to do that."

A few moments passed. She squeezed my hands, and somehow that gesture helped me find the strength. I bowed my head. "Lord, thank you for this day and for the abundance of food on this table. Thank you for keeping us safe through all the trials we faced this year."

I hesitated and then went on. "Thank you for blessing me with Sophie and for trusting me to take care of her."

I felt her squeeze my hands after I said those words.

Opening my eyes, I looked up. "That's all I got. Amen."

She smiled, let go of my hands and started eating.

She smiled, let go of my hands and started eating

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