The Sweetness of Salt(6)

“What does Goober think?” I asked.

“Oh, she loves it!” Sophie said. “Seriously. She’s so excited.”

“Do you have to learn how to bake?” Zoe asked. “I mean, you’re the one who has to make everything, right? Or are you going to hire someone to do that for you?”

Sophie smiled slightly. “No, I can bake,” she said. “Right, Julia?”

I stared straight ahead, annoyed suddenly by something I couldn’t name. “Yeah.”

She nudged me with her elbow. “Remember all that stuff I used to make in high school?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ve been working on my muffins for years,” Sophie said. “And I want to sell fresh bread and pies. Maybe some cakes too.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” I said.

“It is,” Sophie replied promptly. “That’s the fun of it.”

“What’s it called?” Zoe asked.

“I haven’t decided on a name just yet,” Sophie said. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“Cool.” Zoe sat forward, holding on to the back of my seat again. “I’m gonna think of something good.”

“Yeah.” I felt tired all of a sudden, as if the morning’s events had just caught up with me. “That’s great.”

For a second, like a balloon floating by, I wondered where Milo was, what he was doing. And then, as the car began to move, the balloon disappeared, floating up past the trees until it was just a pinpoint of color against the sky.





chapter


4


When Sophie was sixteen she had a boyfriend named Eddie Waters. We all loved Eddie. He was tall and dark haired, and when he came to dinner he always brought my mother a bouquet of flowers. But Sophie was mean to him. Cruel, even. She spoke down to him as if he were stupid, and often ended their long, drawn-out phone calls by slamming the phone back into the receiver. One night, after a particularly loud argument between them, I tapped softly on Sophie’s bedroom door. She hadn’t come down for dinner, and didn’t touch a thing on the plate Mom brought up. “Soph?”

No answer. Sophie usually let me in when I knocked. I would sprawl out over her bed, drawing in my doodle pad while she did homework. After tonight’s fight with Eddie, however, maybe she had other ideas.

I tapped again. “Soph?” I said, a little louder this time.

“Yeah?” Her voice was stuffy with tears.

“Can I come in?”

There was a long pause. Finally, “Okay.”


I pushed open the door gently. Sophie sat in the middle of her bed, which she had pulled out from against the wall and centered in the middle of the room. She was reading a magazine. Dirty clothes and pieces of paper littered the floor, and her desk was scattered with pens, pencils, and empty coffee mugs. I climbed up amid the perpetual tangle of rumpled sheets and blankets and crossed my legs. “Are you okay?”

She nodded and turned a page of her magazine without looking up. “Why aren’t you in bed yet? Isn’t it past nine?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Listen, if you’re here about me and Eddie fighting, then you can leave,” she said. “Because it’s none of your business.”

I stared at her for a minute. It felt as though she had just slapped me. “You’re mean to him,” I said, before I could stop myself.

Sophie looked up from her magazine. “What did I just say?”

I held my ground. This was for Eddie, not her. “He’s so nice to you all the time, and you’re just mean.” My lower lip began to wobble. “You’re mean and nasty and everyone…”

“Out.” Sophie cut me off abruptly, and then looked down at her magazine. “Out,” she said again when I didn’t move. “Now.”

My eyes began to fill with tears. “You’re mean to everyone!” I shouted.

“Whose side are you on?” Sophie asked. “You’re tired, Julia. Go to bed.”

It might have helped things if she had gotten worked up. Maybe if she had yelled back at me or shed a few tears, the big block inside my chest might have split open. But the boredom in her voice made me furious. “I won’t go to bed.” I was speaking through gritted teeth. “Not until you call Eddie and apologize for being so mean to him.”

“Oh. My. God.” Sophie tossed her magazine to one side and rolled off her bed, all in one fluid motion. She caught me around the top of the arm, dragged me from her room, and while I stood there yelling at the top of my lungs, she slammed and locked her door.

Mom came running upstairs, “What in the world is going on here?”

I was sobbing by then, incomprehensible as I tried to explain what had happened.

“Sophie?” Mom knocked on her door. “What’s going on?”

“Leave me alone.” The words were heavy and solid, spoken with finality.

“Come on, sweetie,” Mom said, taking my hand. “Come with me.”

Mom sat with me while I took a warm bath and then she dried me off, helped me into clean pajamas, and tucked me into bed. My breath was still coming in little hiccups.

“Don’t let Sophie get to you,” Mom said, sitting on the edge of my mattress. “She’s going through a lot right now.”