Whispers of Deceit, Echoes of Love

Chapter 8

“Oh, I am sorry!” The cheerful voice interrupted. It belonged to an elderly woman with grey hair and a smiling face. She was carrying two bags of groceries, which she placed on the table before shaking her head at them. “You never told me you were expecting a visitor, sir. Or I might have made breakfast before heading to the market!”

“It’s alright, Betty,” Steven’s voice was much thicker than before, but he seemed composed. “She’s Eric’s girlfriend,” when he sensed Sophia stiffening, he corrected himself. “Ex-girlfriend. She came to drop off his things.”

The woman made a sound low in her throat, “Oh, such a shame. Well, I am back now. I will make you both something to eat. Food always makes people feel good.” Betty started getting busy in the kitchen.

Steve’s hands were now on Sophia’s arms, gently rubbing her up and down, seemingly unaware. Sophia jumped out of the barstool as though it was on fire, nearly colliding with Steven, who used his strong hands to steady her. “I-uh-I should get going.”

Steven nodded, his eyes now hooded. He stepped back, giving her space to pass. “Sophia,” he called for her. He took two steps towards her, his hand outstretched. “Give me your phone?”

Sophia frowned, “why?”

“So that I can put my number in it. I know a thing or two about being dumped without any notice.”

Sophia hesitated for a second. Her gaze traveled to the older woman, who seemed busy with her breakfast preparations and invested in their conversation. Taking a deep breath, Sophia shook her head, “I don’t think that will be necessary, sir.”

Steven studied her face for a few more seconds, not giving anything away before giving her a curt nod. He turned on his heels, “Betty, heading upstairs to get ready.”

“Of course, dear,” Betty’s cheerful voice followed him before she turned to Sophia. “It’s not common for Mr. Fowler to offer his phone number to someone he just met.”

Sophia kept quiet.

Betty sighed. She wiped her hands on the apron before she turned to a corner drawer. Removing a black business card, she approached Sophia with a smile. “Here.”

Sophia looked at the card. It only had one phone number written in gold.

“He was right, you know,” Betty shook her head, sadness coating her eyes. “He does have experience with a broken heart, and he can help you.”

Sophia turned the card on her fingers. She nodded to Betty and made her way out of the house. Getting to her car, she leaned on the steering wheel, closing her eyes. What was that that nearly happened between them? Did she really want to kiss Eric’s father? He had also leaned closer. Did it mean he also wanted to kiss her? Sitting up straight, she studied the card once again. Storing it, she made her way home.

The drive to her apartment brought back thoughts of what happened to Sophia. She found herself wiping tears as she parked her car. Taking a few minutes to collect herself, she closed her eyes and tried to stop the tears from falling.

Her phone ringing broke her calmness, and she blindly reached for it. “Hello?”

“What is this I hear about you and Eric breaking up?”

Sophia groaned inwardly. She should have known that her brothers would run straight to their mother with the information. “It is what it is, ma.”

“But Eric?” Her mother sounded unbelieving. “What did you do?”

Sophia scoffed, “And what makes you think it was me?” Her relationship with her mother was strained at most. Sophia felt that she gave more attention to her brothers than her. Growing up, she would miss Sophia's dance recitals so that she could go to a game one of her brothers was playing. Her mother always made excuses for not spending time with her to concentrate on her brothers.

“Because I know you,” her mother’s voice was sharp.

Sophia broke into a sarcastic laugh, “do you really? So what’s my favorite color?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

“Why are you deflecting from answering?” Sophia taunted.

“That’s isn’t important right now! What happened with Eric?”

Sophia took a deep breath, shaking her head. Of course, her mother wouldn’t know what her favorite color was. She was never interested in anything she did. You would think that with her being the only girl, she would have been her mother’s best friend, but quite the contrary. “I found him with Emily. They had just come from doing the deed. Emily informed me that they have been screwing around for the better part of our relationship. So how is that my fault? And my favorite color is orange.” She disconnected the call and threw her phone onto the passenger seat. When it started ringing once again, she took it and turned it off. She was not in the mood to talk to anyone, let alone her mother, who would look for a way to blame her for the breakup.

Collecting her stuff, she made it to her apartment, finding a box in front of her door. She did not have to wonder what the box contained. Picking it up, she opened her door and walked inside.

Placing the box on the coffee table, she sat down and stared at it for a while, wondering why Eric would still bring back her stuff from his place when she told him to burn it.

Taking a deep breath, she reached over and opened it. The first thing that caught her eye was a framed picture of Eric and herself taken three years back. She remembered that day perfectly. It was her brother Seth who had taken the photos. They had visited his property in the mountains during winter, something they did often. Her brother had bought a new camera he was trying out and had asked them to pose in front of his log cabin. Dressed in matching flannel jackets, jeans, and lumberjack boots, Eric had his hand around Sophia’s shoulders, looking straight into the camera with a sh!t eating smile while she was looking up at him with a matching smile. She had her hand on his chest, one booted foot raised back. It had been her favorite picture of the two of them. Now, thinking back, he might have already started fooling with Emily if what her former best friend had said was true. She placed it on the coffee table face down and reached inside to remove another holder of memories.

Slowly, she emptied the box, reliving each memory the items carried. She could not control the rivers of tears that flowed down her cheeks, nor could she stop her mind from asking why, a question she knew she would never answer herself. By the time the box was empty, she had cried herself to a headache. Curling on the sofa, she hugged the framed photograph, hoping to wake up and find that all this was just a bad nightmare.