Chapter Twenty Three: Awkward Dinner
River Jenkins
“Be nice.” My aunt warns right when the doorbell rang, indicating that Sophia and her grandmother was here.
I adjust the collar of my shirt and inhale deeply when I open the front door, not wanting Sophia’s grandmother to stand in the cold longer than necessary. It seems like Sophia liked the cold seeing that she jogged in it just the other day.
I was welcomed by a brown-green pair of eyes only known as Sophia’s.
She lowers her gaze toward the ground before she looked at me again, but her gaze kept darting from the ground and to my eyes again repeatedly, as if she was trying to avoid my gaze and as if she can’t look me in the eyes anymore.
“Hello, River.” She greets, her voice was barely above a whisper. She forces a tight smile and clears her throat awkwardly. She then tucks a strand of her snow-covered hair behind her pierced ear.
“Sophia.” I force her name out and step out of the way so she could enter.
When she steps past me, her perfume wafts through the air, filling my nostrils with this sweet but strong scent of roses mixed with a pinch of lemons, or lime.
I also notice that she had a dress on for today’s occasion. Her grandmother probably forced her to wear something nice just like my aunt forced me to wear something else other than my usual black leather jacket and black pair of jeans.
I was wearing a semi-formal outfit—beige coloured lapel buttoned up shirt with a pair of trousers to match. I personally didn’t like the outfit seeing that we were just going to have a birthday dinner with people who were considered friends in my aunt’s eyes, but I couldn’t really complain. The outfit was very comfortable.
“River,” Sophia’s grandmother smiles widely at me, as if I was her grandson, “it is so nice to see you again. I hope you have been well.” She pulls me in for a hug faster than I could decline—because of the broken rib. I groan softly, and bite my lip when the sharp pain shot through my side, by the broken rib.
Luckily she doesn’t engulf me in a death-grip and pulls away from me before she notices that my face was pulled, trying to cover the fact that I was in pain.
“It’s nice to see you too, and happy birthday, Miss Crawford.” I force a smile.
She nudges me with her hand, shaking her head at me. “Just because I am a year older today doesn’t mean that I am old now. I’m still in my good early sixties, so you can call me Jenna, not Miss Crawford.”
I step out of the doorway and let her pass through.
My smile disappears as I close the door behind me and sigh, loudly.
I slowly make my way to the living room where everyone was already seated, already dreading this birthday dinner and it hasn’t even officially started yet.
I sit down across from Sophia, on the small single sofa on the east side of the living room, next to the fireplace that was up warming up the entire living room.
Sophia was giggling at something my aunt has said, but she immediately stopped laughing when she noticed that I was sitting across from her.
She clears her throat and tugs at the hem of her white and red dress awkwardly.
I wanted to tell her that I was just as uncomfortable to have her here, but I kept my mouth shut instead.
I did, after all promise my aunt that I would be on my best behaviour today.
As I was listening to the conversation going on between my aunt and Jenna, I couldn’t help but to look over at Sophia. She had her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her left leg kept jumping up and down restlessly, and she would blink more than what was considered normal. She would also tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear every few minutes even though it was already behind her ear.
She was restless, and I don’t think it had something to do with me this time.
My eyes must’ve lingered for a second too long on Sophia because before I knew it, she locked eyes with me, and as they were on mine, I noticed that she kind of looked harried and even haunted somehow. She was also extremely pale, except for the tips of her ears and nose from the snowy weather outside.
I was the one to look away first, and when I looked at her again, she was smiling at something my aunt said and rubbing the top of Duke’s head unknowingly.
She didn’t look my way again.
But after a few minutes have passed, I started to realise that she wasn’t joining in on the conversation at all. She was just sitting there, rubbing the top of Duke’s head and smiling whenever her grandmother or my aunt looked at her.
It was as if she didn’t want to say anything because she was afraid that she’d say the wrong thing and be kicked out of the house again like the last time.
I must admit that it made me feel like a real asshole.
It was never my attention for her to feel like she has to walk on eggshells around me, but I didn’t have a choice. I had to be nasty to her. I had to make her understand that if she was going to bring them up again, that there will be consequences, but like I told my aunt the other day, I didn’t want to be like this.
When someone mentions Beck or asks what happened to them, a feeling of sheer anger washes over me entirely and I can’t think straight at all anymore.
It’s how they ask the question, like the question wouldn’t affect me at all when it actually does affect me in the worst way possible. And even though it is just a simple question, it still affects me. It has always affected me, and it always will.
We were sitting around the dinner table now.
Sophia was sitting beside me. Her hands were now unclasped and holding cutlery but her hand still gripped the fork tightly, as if her life depended on it.
“Sophia tells me that butterfly project of yours is coming along well.” Jenna says, looking at me while I was busy propping a small potato into my mouth.
I nod at her. “It has been coming along well, yes.” I tell her when I finished chewing.
It’s because she has been doing the project herself and I wasn’t there to ruin it.
I look at Sophia and see her nod in agreement before my gaze flickers back to the plate of food in front of me.
Jenna nods, smiling at the both of us.
“That’s great to hear.” My aunt says, beaming at the two of us.
She knew there was still bad blood between us, but she chose to keep it to herself. We didn’t want to make Jenna worry on her birthday, and if she knew that there were ‘complications’ between me and Sophia, it will make her worry.
They have tried getting the two of us to work together, but it failed time and time again. I was mostly to blame for that, but like I said, I cannot help it at all.
I get triggered very easily and there are times when it ends very, very badly—for myself, and for the people around me. Sophia was the unlucky one to have been on the receiving end of my outbursts most of the time, but that’s only because she has been the one who always caused me to get triggered by asking innocent, simple questions about my life—questions I did not want to answer.
The kind of questions that triggered me easily.
I guess my aunt and Sophia’s grandmother was happy to see that we were being civil and not grabbing at each other’s throats during dinner, but if Sophia wasn’t going to ask about what happened to me, I didn’t have a reason to go off on her.
I wasn’t going to get triggered and that might end up in us having a good time.
“Sophia, do you still like it at school?” My aunt asks. “Are the people there treating you well?” My aunt’s gaze flickers to me for a second before it goes back to Sophia who speared a piece of grilled potato with her fork and lifted it to her mouth, but when the question was asked, her fork stopped mid-air.
I guess she was just as caught off guard by all the questions they were throwing our way.
Sophia sets the fork down onto the side of her plate and wipes her mouth with a napkin and looks at my aunt with the curve of her mouth turned upward in a gentle smile. “I do like it there.” She says, nodding. “The people are treating me really well, thank you for asking.”
“That’s good. We love having you there. New faces are rare, but most appreciated.” My aunt smiles, taking a sip of her wine.
Just when I wanted to eat again, my aunt starts with her questions yet again.
I suddenly wanted to drown in her glass of wine just to avoid the interrogation the two of us were going through.
“And are the two of you getting along well?”
“Yes,” Sophia looks at me, smiles, and looks at my aunt again, “we are.”
I cough loudly when her smile caught me off guard, but groan out in pain when I actually forgot that I had a broken rib, and that the cough caused another shooting pain to shoot through my entire side.
“Are you okay?” Sophia’s grandmother asks me, watching me cautiously.
“I’m fine.” I tell her, dismissing her with the wave of my hand. I then grab my glass of water to take a sip, acting as if I wasn’t groaning out in pain seconds ago. “We are getting along well, Aunt P. You can stop interrogating us, now.”
I feel another stabbing pain shoot through my side, making me wince out in pain. Luckily no one noticed it, no one except for Sophia who watched me clutch my broken rib with a concerned v formed between her eyebrows.
She wanted to say something, but she surprised me by keeping quiet instead. She just took a sip of her water too, looking anywhere but at me.
“Can I please be excused for a second?” I ask my aunt who just nods. She was too busy talking to Sophia’s grandmother to notice anything else around her.
I stand up from the chair, careful not to hurt my rib in the process and leave the kitchen clutching my aching rib.
Once I was in the bathroom, I walk over to the mirror to lift my shirt up.
The bruising was still evident—a deep shade of purple—and it spread across my entire side; the edges were turning yellow as it started to heal as the time passed.
I lift my finger to touch the bruise, but when my finger barely grazed the purple skin, I hiss out in pain. It was still way too sensitive to touch and it still hurt as if I broke my rib yesterday and not a week later.
“What the hell happened to you?” Sophia’s voice comes out hushed behind me.
She didn’t want to alert our families downstairs.
“You have a thing for entering bathrooms when they’re occupied, don’t you?”
“River…” A pained look washes over her face.
“Just get out, Sophia.” I tell her, watching her through the mirror.
“Stop with this asshole act, and just let me help you for once.” She says, walking over to me and twirling me around by the wrist so I can face her.
“There’s nothing you can do about it.” I tell her, letting my shirt fall back down. “I have a broken rib.”
“Oh, hey, what are you doing?!” I yell when she ignores me and lifts my shirt up again and starts to trace her small index finger over the sensitive skin there.
Her cold finger made me shiver—goose bumps erupted all over my skin, and I felt a tinge of embarrassment for my body to react to her touch like that.
“It looks ouch.” She says, tracing her finger ever so gently over the bruise like she tried to heal it with her finger. “It definitely is broken, indeed.” She says.
“It fucking hurts.” I admit. “I never broke a rib before.”
“I think I have a few painkillers in my grandmother’s car. Just give me a second and I’ll bring it up for you.” She says, letting my shirt fall down again.
She turns around to leave but I grab her hand, twirling her around so she can face me. I forced her to face me like the many times she did to me before.
“Why do you want to help me, after everything?”
“I’m trying to make peace, River.” She sighs. “And besides, I hate fighting with you over the stupidest little things.” There’s a slight pause before she continues again. “And I can’t help but feel I’m causing this.” She beckons toward me rib.
She turns to leave and this time I let her.
I didn’t wait too long for her to return, but instead of brining painkillers like she said she would, she brought an entire handful of white snow instead.
“Sophia… What the hell—”
“I think you should bite your hand because this…” she pauses, lifting my shirt with her one hand without the snow, “…is going to hurt just a little bit.”
She presses the handful of snow against my broken rib and the bruise there and I hiss out in pain, but I was relieved when the pain started to dissolve when the snow started to melt against the bruise. The coldness of the snow helped to relieve some of the pain, just a little bit, but it felt like I could breathe again.
“Does it work?” Sophia asks me, her hands covered with snow and water as it started to melt underneath her palm.
“It surprisingly does.” I tell her. “But, how?”
“Well… Daniel—Daniel would always bruise himself doing the most reckless of things, and he’d grab a packet of something frozen to press up against the bruise. It used to work with him, so I tried it out on you, just with snow and not a packet of peas from the freezer. I wanted to bring a packet of peas, but I didn’t want any of them to notice, so…”
When all the snow dissolved underneath the palm of her hand, she wipes her dampened palm against her dress.
As she was wiping her hand to dry off the wetness, her dress lifts up and I noticed that there was yet another scar across her knee—thinner than the one she had across the left side of her cheek, and purple on the pale skin of her knee.
She catches me staring at the scar and quickly covers it with her dress again.
“I’m sorry.” I apologise almost immediately. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
“Everyone stares.” She shrugs like it didn’t affect her, but deep down it did.
She turns on her heels and leaves my room, just like that.
I release a loud sigh, raking my fingers through my hair.
I walk out of the bathroom and make my way back downstairs to the table.
I was relieved that the snow Sophia placed on my bruise numbed the pain so when I walked down the stairs, I didn’t wince every time I stepped down a stair.
Sophia briefly looks at me when I sit down at the dinner table.
She continues to eat, listening to the jokes my aunt was telling to her while she nibbled on a piece of broccoli, laughing every so often to show my aunt that her jokes were funny and that she was listening intently, not like me who zoned out, staring at the plate of uneaten potatoes in front of me.
“I can’t believe it’s snowing already.” My aunt says, stealing a glance at the falling snow outside the kitchen window. “I mean, it felt like yesterday when we were celebrating a new year.”
“I agree.” Sophia says, looking out the window at the snow falling from the sky.
I didn’t miss the way she looked out of the window with longing.