Sophia's P.O.V.
"They're not the same," Bryce argued, brushing his knuckles on my bare shoulder blade. I readjusted myself, pulling my hair into a bun and setting back down, resting my head on his tattooed chest. "Seinfeld and Martin are two sitcoms that aren't really supposed to be in the same group. They're both good, but for different reasons."
For the last twenty minutes, we talked aimlessly while in bed, not really focusing on one topic for too long.
I carefully examined his tattoos, asking him why he had a tattoo of the numbers one and thirty next to each other. In a sepulchral tone, he told me that was that January 30th was the due date for his unborn child with Julia and that he got it on what would've been his kid's second birthday.
I hastily changed the conversation by discussing TV shows. That was always a good idea. I brought up how I couldn't watch a second of Seinfeld and how I preferred watching Martin.
"They're both comical sitcoms that center their plot around a group of friends." I stated. "That's why I compared them."
"I think you're second guessing Seinfeld's humor. It's hilarious."
I groaned. "It's far from hilarious. I feel like you're only fighting tooth and nail for them because it's set in New York."
"It's genuinely a good show."
"You can say that a million more times, but I'm not going to watch it, Bryce. I switched between falling asleep and rolling my eyes when I last saw a rerun of it on TV."
He reeled back far enough to glance directly at me, scooting towards the left. "I'm calling the wedding off. This is unacceptable."
I rolled my eyes. "Because I don't like Seinfeld?"
"It's the principle, Sophia."
"I forgave you when you said you don't like the singer Selena." I prodded his arm, sitting up. "And that hurt because I actually really love her music. I went to go see her live two summers ago. When she goes on tour again, I think I'd want to see her again. It was great."
"I'm sure I'd like her music too if I spoke the language."
I poked him again. "Oh, shut up. You have a mix tape full of French songs, and I know you can't speak French."
"Maybe I do." He squinted, but the hard expression didn't last long. He was smirking by the time he continued what he was saying. "Maybe it's my hidden talent."
"I call bullshit." I said with a guffaw. "Spanish isn't that difficult to learn."
"You say that because you've been speaking it your entire life."
"It's not that hard." I told him with certainty. "I'll prove it. Tell me a word you want to learn the translation of and I'll tell you what it is. Then you can repeat that word."
The corner of his mouth twisted upward and his eyes gave a suggestive gleam. "How do say daddy?"
I chuckled, not able to take him serious. "I didn't know you liked being called that."
"I don't. I was just kidding." Something about how he said that made me think he wasn't entirely joking. I didn't go as far as to ask. "Besides, I already know it's papi chulo."
"Nooo." I fell over, laughing hard. "Papi chulo is like a Mac Daddy, a player. In translation, it means pretty or cool daddy. It's not the same thing as daddy though. Ohmigod." I covered my face while another wave of laughter came over me. "Papi means daddy."
This talk was going into unknown territories.
Bryce rubbed the bridge of his nose, smiling into his palms. "You can stick to calling me my name then."
"I'm happy to hear you don't want to be call that. I wouldn't have been okay with using that on you." I admitted, easing on to his shoulder, draping my hand across his chest. "Honestly, do you want to know how to say a certain phrase or anything? Do already know some?"
"I know tienes mi corazón means you have my heart." He said, and I was surprised that he knew that. Out of everything he could know, he knew that particular phrase. It struck me as strange. "Mi amor means I love you, right?"
"It means my love. The phrase you're looking for is te amo," I rectified, feeling like a linguistic teacher at my former high school. "Who is teaching you Spanish?"
I was befuddled at how wrong he was, but I didn't scowl him. He was doing pretty okay when it came to pronouncing it. He just didn't have the correct translation for one of them. That could easily be fixed.
"I took French in high school, but had a semester of Spanish during my senior year." He confused. "But I can't remember anything I learned. I mainly ditch that class or slept in the back."
"I can tell."
"Hey. I'm a quick learner. I bet by March next year, I'll be replying full sentences." Bryce kiss me momentarily and then push the duvet off. "We should get ready. Knowing Kelsey, she'll be on her way earlier than she told us."
Bryce got his blue towel, tucking it under his arm. He headed for the bathroom. His pager went off five minutes into his shower. When he was inside, he called out to me, saying, "Can you see who that is? I left my pager inside the nightstand."
"Okay." I replied, pulling the drawer open. Pushing aside the papers, my eyes narrowed on a tiny blue box with pretty white bow. Tiffany and Co. was written in black, standing out on the powder blue box. My heart skipped a beat.
Should I take a peek at it?
"No." I grabbed his pager, seeing the number.
It was Bryce's cell phone, blinking on the screen.
The water turned off and the door to the bathroom opened. Bryce was fully dressed in a black shirt and dusty gray jeans, distressed near the pockets. The towel hung around his shoulders and his phone was in his right hand.
My vision temporarily blurred with tears, making everything hazy, as Bryce reached the corner of the bed, placing the towel on the back of a chair and kneeling down. He set the box in center of his palm. "I wasn't planning on giving it to you until the day of, but since they got the engraved text done sooner than I thought, I figured I should give it to you now."
I couldn't speak. I stayed quiet, letting him go on.
Bashfully, he glanced at his hands. "I get that it's not the most creative way to show you."
"It's perfect. I didn't expect it." I found my voice. I could sense that he was going to dragging himself down. "The whole point is to be surprised and I am definitely surprised."
The twinkle in his eyes brightened. Pinching the white ribbon with his thumb and index finger, he yanked on it and then plucked the lid off, shaking the velvety black box out.
"How...how did you get it so fast?"
"Don't worry about it. I had to pull some strings, but someone I know owed me a favor, so it's all good." Bryce said nonchalantly, dismissing it. He cracked it open, rotating it so I could see. It had a single diamond silver band, and the big attraction, the ring itself shimmered as he pushed it on to the bed and moved it closer to me.
"I...I can't keep that." I stuttered, gawking at the largest diamond in the set. "How much did this cost?
"I don't think you're supposed to ask that." He responded, grinning and swiftly taking my left hand. Before he slid them on, I asked if I could read the text he had engraved.
"I want to see." I said, wiping my damp eyes. Engraved into the silver, the words: Me robaste el corazón was written into the two bands, half on one and the other half on the other.
"You stole my heart," I translated it to English, beaming at him after reading it and jumped at him, going for a hug. I knocked him off his knees and we both tumbled on to the floor, laughing at ourselves. I didn't care.
. . .
I couldn't stop staring at the ring. It was by far the most expensive thing I'd ever received from someone else. The size of it stressed me out, making my left hand feel heavier.
I was stunned that it fit so perfectly. Bryce probably took one of the rings from my jewelry box as an example. There was a pearl ring that I wore on my ring finger. He could've used that.
"Holy Moly," Kelsey yelped when I showed her in the car, driving to her parent's place. "That's massive."
Kelsey, Tonya, and I all carpooled in one car and the guys all drove in Conner's. I hadn't ever gone to Kelsey's parent's place so this was an experience I was excited about. I knew Remy's home wasn't too far from hers. It was in the same gated community. I hoped we didn't have to drive past it.
"Did he do something that pissed you off?" Tonya asked. "I had a friend of mine who got cheated on a month before their wedding and her fiancé got her a big ring as a 'I'm sorry I fucked up' gift. She didn't know he cheated until afterwards though."
"That's anecdotal." Kelsey scoffed. "I don't see Bryce doing that to Sophia. Not only that, but what would Bryce be sorry about? He didn't do anything wrong to Sophia to make her mad...Has he?"
"No, he hasn't." I answered. "We haven't had a fight."
"It's not what he has done, but maybe something you're going to find out about soon," Tonya replied, and I wished she'd stop talking. She was darkening my mood with paranoia. Jumping to conclusions was something I was working to not do. Tonya was just making it worse for me.
Was there something Bryce had done behind my back? Did he do something that would make me mad or sad?
No. Don't think like that. Of course he wouldn't, my thoughts retorted, putting an end to the my curiosity. Tonya was crazy to think Bryce was hiding something from me. We were going to be okay. Matter of fact, we were going to be better than okay.
. . .
Today, I was mailed my second pay check from the bookstore. The first stop on my schedule was to my father's house. I cashed both the checks and put them in an envelope. It was enough to repay him for using his money to finance Bryce's birthday party. My conscious weighted heavy with regret the longer I went without giving him his money. I didn't want his drug money.
That was partly why the ring made me so anxious, because of the drug money Bryce used to pay for it. It seemed rude to throw it back at him. He was happy when he gave it to me, and I was happy, too. It went against my morals, but the last thing I wanted to do was ruin the moment.
My dad let me on to the property the second my car pulled up to the gates. I called him in advance so he wasn't this shocked when I visited this time around. He was in his den, sitting with his feet on the desk and reading a piece of paper that was stapled on a folder. Even though it was sixty degrees outside, the fire place was crackling. Orange flames flicked the charcoaled bricks behind the roaring fire.
"Hello Sophie," he greeted me. "How ar—"
I slammed the envelop down on his desk. "There's your money."
He picked it up. "What for?"
"It's all the money you gave me earlier this month. I'm giving it back to you."
His bushy brows knitted together and he rose from his comfy chair. "I don't want your money. What I gave you was to keep. I'm not a bank. You didn't loan that money from me. I'm your father."
"I don't want it." I pushed it away from me when he tried to hand it back to me. "Keep it. I'm not taking it back"
"Neither will I." He flung it into the fire and returned to his leather chair, flipping open the folder. "I'm glad you stopped by. Your mother's making lunch for the boys and I. Do you want to stay?"
I was recovering from the fact that he just threw five hundred dollars into his fireplace as if it was trash. "That was a lot of money."
"I make that much in fifteen minutes. That's nothing." His shoulders shook, chuckling. "You didn't answer my question so I presume that's a no?"
"I can stay for lunch." I hadn't consumed anything all day besides my cup coffee this morning. "What is she making?"
"I don't know. It's a big lunch. When I told her you were coming, she called Julio to ask him to join us."
"Ugh." I grimaced, sitting down at the seat in front of dad's desk.
He snuck a glance at me from his paper work. "You don't like Julio?"
"He's a nice guy, but I'm not interested." I sneered. "Mom is trying to get me with Julio. She's keeps ignoring me when I tell her that I'm already with someone."
"That's not anything serious though." He said as though he knew everything. He was dead wrong. "I think you should give Julio a chance."
"I don't want him, dad."
"Okay. Okay. No one is here to force you to do what you don't want. You know I would never do that." He dropped his pen on to his desk. "I'll talk to your mother then."
"Thanks." I smiled, relieved that he'd take my side on this.
I didn't tell my parents yet that I was engaged to Bryce. The ring he got me was in my purse, held inside its little black box and away from my parent's view. I had to let them down easy. I couldn't throw it in their faces without a warning.
"Sophia!" my mother sang, entering the den. I stood to hug her. In Spanish, she said: "Guess who came? Julio. Come downstairs with me so you can greet him."
"Mom." I sighed, crashing back to my seat. "I don't like him in that kind of way. I told you that I don't want you to set me up with him."
"What's wrong with him?" she frowned. "He's not a bad man."
He's also not Bryce.
"I told you a million, billion times, mom. I'm with someone else." I knuckled my head, leering at her. "I'm not looking for someone new."
"You're talking about that Brian guy, aren't you?"
"Bryce." I corrected. At least this was progress from when she referred to him as gringo. "His name is Bryce."
She threw her hands up. "You're Spanish isn't that good and you want to be with someone who doesn't know a single word in our language? That's crazy. Your kids wouldn't know a single word of Spanish. You need someone who understands our culture. Brian can't understand in the same way Julio does." She went into a lecture I heard in the past about the importance of passing down culture to my offspring.
"He's willing to learn." I announced near the end of her speech. "He's more understanding than you're making him out to be."
"If Sophia doesn't want to be with Julio, we can't force the boy on her, Valerie." Dad said and gave me a small smile. "I've spoken to him many of times, and Bryce isn't a wrong choice for her."
This, on its own, caused an argument between my parents. I sank into my seat as the bantering got louder. Mom wasn't giving up and neither was dad. He repeated how he could see I was happier with Bryce, my mother wasn't having any of it though.
"She's an adult." Dad concluded. "She can make her own choices."
"She doesn't know what's good for her. I do." Mom spat. "And Julio is good for her. It's not like she's that serious with this Brian boy. They're not that close."
"I'm engaged." I shouted, shutting both my parents up. I sprang to my feet. I was done with the fighting and screaming. "I'm engaged to Bryce."
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a/n: please remember this is 1993. Even though intercultural and interracial couples are higher in America than they were fifty years ago, it still isn't the norm. Majority of people marry/date their own race and people within their culture. This does not reflect my views, but I feel like it's more believable if I write it this way. I'm sure you know many people like Sophia's mom still around today.