I lay in bed last night and watched her sleep against my chest. She slumbers so peacefully. She curls up next to me and wraps her leg around mine like she needs me to stay put.
It’s cuddling in its rawest form. It’s an act I’ve never been into . . . until now. Jessica and I used to build a wall between us with pillows because neither of us liked to touch while we slept. But now I look forward to going home and ending the day with Sophie up against me.
I glance at the clock. I have only twenty minutes before I need to get back to the clinic so Pap can head out to Birdie’s. A sign sits to my right, informing me that the Lemon Aid has deli sandwiches.
With a sigh, I pull in. There’s no way I can get to the Honey House and back to the clinic in twenty minutes if Sophie is home. I’ll find myself wanting to stay with her instead.
I have to be an adult.
Damn it.
I park the car and get out. The Lemon Aid sits in between a hardware store and a building that isn’t open anymore. It appears to have hosted music lessons or something at one point in the past.
My phone rings in my hand, and I look down at the screen. My dad’s number flashes as if it’s warning me not to answer. To not destroy my mood. I slide it back into my pocket.
Chimes ring against the door as I swing it open. Two cheery faces greet me with a wave and a hello as I step inside and inhale scents of cinnamon and vanilla.
A long counter runs the length of the building on my right. Behind it is a deli-style operation with a grill, a fountain beverage machine, and ice-cream freezers. On my left are tables and chairs and a booth or two.
In the back of the building is a pharmacy that looks like it came right out of a television show. It extends the width of the building and has little chairs in front for people to wait.
Walking inside here gives me a feeling of nostalgia. My mother worked here in high school, and her picture hangs somewhere on the wall above the tables and chairs. She used to bring me here for sandwiches when she’d pick me up in late July. Sophie and I would come in here, too, for milkshakes, as often as we could get money from our grandparents.
“Can I help you?” A blonde teenage girl smiles at me from the fountain beverage machine.
“Yes. Please. I’d like a turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and pickle.”
“Sure. Would you like a drink? You can get a bag of chips and a drink for two more dollars.”
“That sounds great. Throw some plain chips and a cola on there for me.”
“You got it.”
I take a seat toward the back and fight the urge to get it to go. The Honey House is so close that I could still get my food and swing by there to say hello.
Instead, I get out my phone and flip through the news feed. None of the headlines are interesting, and I find myself mostly staring off in a daze until the chair across from me is rattled.
I look up to see a man about my age. He has reddish hair and a wide, friendly smile.
“You must be the vet,” he says.
“I am.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Aaron Andrews. I’m friends with Jobe Bates.” He grabs the back of the chair and slides it out. “How do you like it here? Jobe said you were from Arizona. Must be a big change, huh?”
“It is. But I came here a lot growing up, so I knew what I was in for.”
“That’s right. You’re Dr. Fred’s grandson.”
He smiles again. This time, it triggers a memory.
“Let me ask you something,” I say. “Did you try to bungee jump off that bridge south of town with a paracord back in the day?”
Aaron’s eyes light up. “I might’ve done something stupid like that.” His brows pull together. “You were there, weren’t you? You were the kid there with Sophie.”
I can’t help but laugh as I recall the afternoon I watched Aaron try to re-create a stunt he’d watched in a movie. Only in his case the cord didn’t recoil—it broke, and he ended up going for a direct dive into the water below.
“That was me,” I tell him.
“You were the one that talked me out of jumping off the cliff.”
“I figured that the odds of your feat weren’t great and that at least the bridge was lower. Your chances at survival were much higher.”
His laugh is loud, filling the building. The two men sitting by the door look at us before going back to their sandwiches.
“You saved my life, man,” Aaron says. “I’ve always wondered who that kid was. Or if you were there at all. I thought I might’ve imagined you. Had a headache for a couple of weeks after that.” He rubs his head absentmindedly.
“I don’t know about saving your life, but I’m glad it worked out okay.”
“Believe it or not, that wasn’t the dumbest thing I ever did,” he says with a laugh. “But that’ll be my legacy, I guess. The guy that did the dumb shit.”
I join him with a laugh of my own.
My food is placed before me. I decline anything else. Tina, according to her name tag, has a quick conversation with Aaron before scurrying back to the counter.
Aaron sits back in his seat and folds his arms over his chest. His face is painted with amusement.
“I heard you went and married Sophie,” he says finally. “Can’t say I blame you.”
My hands stall over my sandwich. He’s being friendly and making conversation. I know this. But something about the smugness in his tone—like he’s thought about Sophie like that—prickles something deep inside me.
“You are correct,” I say, looking him in the eye. “We got married a few days ago.”
“Good for you, man. Good for you.”
If he catches my warning, he doesn’t care. I’m not convinced he does, though, because he reaches his arms over his head and stretches with a loud yawn.
“Okay, well, I better get out of here,” he says, sitting up again. “I’m glad we got to say hello.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
He gets to his feet. “So now that you’re here and basically family, we play poker at my house the first Friday of every month. I live on County Road 500 just north of the turkey barn. The game usually starts around seven and goes until we run out of money. Fifty-dollar buy-in. Bring your own beer.”
“All right,” I say, thrown off a little by the sudden invitation.
“Gonna run. See you next week.” He walks backward toward the door. “Tell Sophie hi for me.”
He flashes me his smile again before disappearing as quickly as he arrived.
I’m not sure what to make of Aaron. He was nice and friendly, if not a little impulsive. I wonder if he always says what he’s thinking or whether he ever ponders it first. By the way he jumped off that bridge, I’m thinking he just goes for it.
I take another bite and wonder if this is what life is like here. Random pop-ins from people just saying hello. Invitations to poker games just because. Sit-down lunches instead of drive-through windows.
Life here goes at a different pace. It crawls instead of barreling down the fast lane. The things here that are important to people—things like community and celebrations—feel completely different from what’s important to the rest of the world.
It’s something that I think I could get used to. Especially if it meant that Sophie would be at my side.