The front door opened, saving me from the next glorious insult.
“Sophie! — and Geoffrey.”
Sophie sniggered at me being an after-thought.
“Why so surprised, Officer Donaldson? You think I’d ditch on you?”
A female voice interjected, “He figured it was 70/30.”
“Jessica, this is..”
“John. You haven’t even invited them in yet.”
Sophie laughed.
“Sorry!” the officer said.
Sophie moved past the officer and extended her hand to the spouse — she was only about five degrees off — but she’d stepped across the threshold since Jessica had spoken — so most people would still be impressed.
John’s wife took Sophie’s shoulders in her hands.
“My husband is discourteous oaf.”
“I like you already.” responded my beautiful girlfriend.
Jessica grinned. “I’m very happy to have you here. You can ignore him the rest of the night. I will make no demands of you — other than to have you tell me what you really think of my lasagna. It’s an old Army recipe.”
“I thought he said you were in the Navy..”
She laughed. “I was, I’m just fucking with you. It’s grandma’s recipe and it’s still missing something — but I don’t know what — and she won’t tell me.”
Sophie’s arms went around her for a brief hug — and then we were heading for the dining room.
Without saying anything, Sophie and Jessica still had one arm around each other — and the wife steered the girlfriend to the seat next to hers.
John pointed me to an empty chair and headed to the hall entrance.
“Sara! It’s time for dinner.”
A young girl followed him back into the room.
“Who is this?”
“These are some new friends I met today.”
“Is one of you on parole?” the girl asked.
Her mother just about spewed her water across the table.
Sophie stage-whispered, conspiratorially, “I think Geoffrey might be. I haven’t gotten a chance to do a background check on him yet.”
“Are you blind?” she asked.
“Last time I checked.” Sophie grinned.
Dad interrupted, “Let’s eat and then we can chat.”
He looked from Sara — after making sure she heard him — to Sophie.
“What do you guys want to drink?”
“Water is fine with me.” she answered.
“Water’s good.” I said.
Jessica headed to the kitchen, “I went ahead and made a plate for everyone — rather than passing dishes around the table.”
I hadn’t even thought about that dynamic.
Sophie responded, “Thank you. I can usually manage with some directions — but that works too.”
On her first trip, she brought plates to Officer Donaldson and me — then Sara — and, finally, Sophie and herself.
“Lasagna at 6 o’clock, small lettuce salad and a roll at 10, green beans at 2.”
Sophie nodded and picked up her fork.
“We have a couple choices for salad dressing..” she offered.
Sophie replied, “I’d just make a mess of it. I usually eat it dry. Thanks though.”
I’m not sure I’d ever watched Sophie eat.
It occurred to me that most of our food came out of a microwave tray or a bowl.
She did well.
I would’ve been screwed.
I noticed that she found the roll and used that to trap the food to get it onto the fork.
Sophie turned to Sara.
“What?” she asked.
“Sorry!” the girl squeaked.
She went back to eating.
Sara started to ask a question and her mother told her to finish chewing her food first.
She swallowed and started again, “How’d you know I was watching you?”
“Everybody else is eating. You were still.. and you’re sitting close enough that I can hear you breathing.”
“Oh.”
The girl resumed eating — casting quick glances at Sophie and me between bites.
When everyone was done, Officer John Donaldson collected our plates.
“Dessert?” asked his wife.
“I couldn’t possibly..” started Sophie.
“That okay. It’s bread pudding. Most people won’t even try it.” she said.
“Grandma’s?” Sophie guessed.
“Yes.” Jessica admitted, smiling.
“Dad’s mom or mom’s?”
“Dad’s.”
“I’ll try it.” Sophie said.
Jessica laughed.
“So will the parolee, over there.” Sophie continued.
I shrugged. There was no point in arguing — and it’s been a while since I had a good bread pudding. I’ve had plenty of dry, nasty ones — but I trust Sophie’s judgement.
The plates arrived and she took a bite — and her face melted into bliss. She didn’t even swallow before saying, “Fuck!”
“You like it?” Jessica asked, needlessly.
Sophie had the courtesy to finish the first bite before answering, “I’m pretty sure we have the same grandma.”
John laughed and Sara giggled. She was most of the way through her portion.
“How was the lasagna?” our hostess inquired.
“It was pretty good. Like you said, it’s not quite grandma’s but it wouldn’t last long in my fridge — and I HATE leftovers.”
“Thanks.”
“Your grandma’s name isn’t Beatrice, is it?”
“No.” the woman laughed. “.. but her sister’s is.”
Sophie laughed in return.
Soon enough, our plates — and the glasses of cold milk that Officer Donaldson had brought us — were empty.
Jessica sent us to the front room while she and John cleared the table.
I walked over and pulled Sophie’s chair out.
She hooked a finger into my belt-loop and I led her towards a recliner.
“John sits in that one.” Sophie said.
I moved to the next one, already knowing the answer, “Jessica.”
I stopped and she looked around the room, pointing to a chair in the corner that had some lace-work draped across the seat.
“There.”
On our way there, she pointed to Sara’s spot and said her name.
I plopped into the chair — sitting slightly sideways — and Sophie dropped onto my lap.
I wrapped my arms around her and snuggled. A nap sounded really good.
“How’d you know where everybody sits?” Sara asked.
“First, answer one of mine.” Sophie countered. “Which grandma sits here?”
“Both of them. The lace on the seat is from mom’s mom. The armrests are dad’s mom’s.”
Sophie lightly ran her fingers over both sets.
Our hosts were just seating themselves.
“How?” Sara asked again.
“Using my five senses — but mostly two for this.”
“Five? You can’t see — you only have four.”
“Normally, that would be true, but I count my brain as the fifth. Try this.. If you lived here, would your seat probably be in the farthest corner of the room?”
“Ah.”
“Good. Your brain works too.”
“Most people don’t walk farther than they have to. So I guessed the closest seats were probably your parents. The first one smelled like your dad. The second one smelled like your mom.”
“I see.”
“You’re on the couch?”
“Yes.”
“Facing the TV?”
Sara sounded a little guilty when she replied, “Yes.”
“.. but I smell books. Several. Who’s the reader in the house?”
Sara’s face got brighter. “All of us. I have two shelves.”
“Good for you. Books — actually any reading — helps your brain work better.”
“You sound like mom & dad.”
“So you hate books?”
“No..”
“You’re no dummy.” Sophie stated. “Why did your dad invite us here?”
“Well, since you’re not on parole.. and you’re not homeless..” the girl began.
“I was pretty close a month ago..” Sophie admitted.
“You were homeless?”
“I was STUCK. My old boyfriend was sneaking off with another girl and I was living in his apartment.”
“Oh!”
“Lucky for me, this doofus..”
She took my face in her hands and kissed me.
“.. tried to trick me into sleeping with him.”
“Cuz he didn’t know about your brain and your nose?”
“Very good.”
Sara giggled.