Her head snaps toward me the second my hand finds her thigh, but she doesn’t ask questions. And so I do instead. “Are you okay?”
Sofia nods quickly, now bringing her hand over mine, clutching it tightly. “My grandma tried calling me. She tries every year but I… never pick up.” Her voice gets quieter with every word that leaves her mouth.
I lean into her, resting my head against hers when I say, “Maybe you should.”
“I don’t even know what to say.”
Getting up from the uncomfortable chair, I pull Sofia up on her feet as well. At first, she looks at me with a little questioning look, but then tells her guests we’ll be right back. I wouldn’t have done it, so at least she did. I mean, it’s nobody’s business anyway.
Leading Sofia over to the stairwell—the one I only found thanks to having decorated this entire barn, otherwise she wouldn’t get me up here ever again—that leads upstairs to her favorite spot, she seems to calm down a little each step we take.
As we reach the hay bales we sat on last time, Sofia falls down on them and suddenly starts to cry. Her shoulders shake, gasping for air rather than taking normal breaths. It pains me to see her like this, and yet the only thing I do is sit beside her and close my arms around her body.
I don’t even dare to speak, just letting her cry it out and calm down. Everyone’s allowed to break, right? People are supposed tofeeltheir emotions, and if I tried to calm her, I fear it’d only make it seem like I don’t want her to feel them. I mean, sure, I do not want to see Sofia cry, but if that’s what it takes for her to allow herself to feel, then I am okay with it.
“Why does she keep calling?” she cries, pressing her face into the front of my shoulder. “I don’t get it, Aaron. She just…” She hiccups, her hands closing tighter around my shirt. “She tries every year to reach me, and I don’t understand why. Ikilledherhusband.”
“You did not kill your own grandpa, Sofia.”
“But I did. I scared him and he fell and—”
“Sofia,” I interrupt, “You didnotkill your grandpa.”
“Then why does it feel like I did?” If only I knew… “Can you call her back? Tell her to not call me again?”
“Sure. If that’s what you want.”
Sofia hands me her phone, and so I immediately go to call her grandmother back. It takes a her a short while to answer, but she gets there in the end. “Sofia?” she says, sounding more excited than Sofia may ever believe.
“Mrs. Carlsen? This is Aaron, Sofia’s boyfriend.” I’m not sure if she remembers me, but that’s not important anyway.
“Aaron?” she repeats back to me. “Where is my granddaughter, Sofia?”
I reach for Sofia’s hand, holding it in mine because from what I could tell, Sofia is about to run for an exit. “She’s next to me. Unfortunately, she does not feel up to speaking with you just yet, but maybe I can forward a message?”
“Oh,” Mrs. Carlsen sighs deeply, almost painfully. “I call every year, but she never picks up. I thought, maybe she has a different number but that couldn’t be because her father gave me this one. So, I keep calling in hopes that one day she might answer me.”
Why did I say I’d call her? This is tougher than I thought it would be. Especially when Sofia’s grandmother sounds like she is fighting her tears. “I understand, but like I said, Sofia doesn’t feel comfortable talking to you yet.”
“But why? Is she still upset with me because I didn’t bake cookies when they visited last?”
This might be a little bit of a reach, but is it possible that Mrs. Carlsen has absolutely no idea why Sofia has never reached out to her after her grandfather’s passing?
“Uh, no, I don’t think she’s upset because of cookies. I will ask her, though. Alright?”
“You do that, Aaron.” Another heavy sigh comes through the phone, as though she wants to say something else but doesn’t quite know how to phrase it yet. Eventually, she finds her words though. “Can you wish her a happy birthday for me?”
“I will.” I look at Sofia just in time to catch her wiping away a tear. Not hanging up the phone, I say, “Your grandma says happy birthday.”
Sofia’s eyes close as she takes a deep breath. A hint of a smile tugs on her lips, but she doesn’t quite let it show. “Tell her I said thank you.”
I don’t have to, because Grandma Carlsen heaves a sigh, followed by what must be a hiccup from a silent crier. “Oh, was that her? She sounds so lovely, so grown up. Tell her to come see me some time, will you, Aaron? Please ask her to come visit me, she’s my little Sofia. I don’t understand why she won’t see me anymore or talk to me. I really miss her; can you tell her that?”
I’m sorry, Sofia.“Maybe you tell her yourself, okay?” Instead of waiting for an answer, or letting Sofia react in any other way than her widened eyes, I hold the phone up to her ear.
Sofia’s hand immediately covers mine, tightening her grip as her grandmother must be speaking to her. Sofia doesn’t answer, but she listens, and the only way for me to tell she is listening is from the way her hands loosen around mine and her expression lightening.
The heavy weight she’s been carrying from ignoring her grandmother’s calls for years, missing someone whom she’d thought of hating her just lifting off at the sound of her voice.
