Find all the parts of this story here.
Sophie
“Cecilia?” came a voice over her shoulder at church a few weeks after that surprisingly life-changing dinner with Mrs. Concord.
“Yes,” she said as she turned, not placing the voice right away. The face helped a lot. “Hi, Sophie.” She had spoken with the woman, only a few years older than her, several times in the last month, although she only sat with Sophie and her fiancee once. Sophie was genuine, friendly, and had helped Cecilia feel much more at home at Bethel. She had once written little translations of the most common phrases on the edges of her bulletin, helping guide Sophie through the service.
“Sam’s out of town for some training this weekend, and I was wondering… Would you like to go out to the little cafe downtown for some coffee or brunch with me?” Sophie asked, looking surprisingly unsure compared to usual.
“Oh, um…” Cecilia hesitated by nature, but something made her pause before saying she couldn’t come. She liked Sophie. What would it hurt to try to make friends?
“Yes, please, I’d like that,” she replied with a little smile.
“Hooray!” Sophie cheered, making Cecilia’s smile grow. “Meet you there at 10:30?”
“Sure,” Cecilia agreed. A glance at her phone showed it was 10:10; the service had gone a little long today. Pastor Concord held strongly to keeping the service at one hour most of the time, but he was known to stretch it for a good sermon text or extra hymns.
After saying goodbye to Gary and Ephraim, greeting Mrs. Johnson and the Harrisons, and nodding hello to a few people whose names she had yet to remember, Cecilia ended up walking the three blocks to the Red Rooster Cafe. The owner clearly loved roosters, because not only were the sign and front door painted with a huge rooster each, but the interior was full of roosters of every form: stuffed, tin, wooden, plastic, straw, even a fake topiary rooster. It was a lot to take in.
Cecilia had gotten there first, so she got a little table for two at the window. Sophie found her easily when she arrived a minute later.
“Thanks for this,” Sophie said right away when she sat. “I’ve been wanting to get to know you more, but usually Sam & I have lunch with his parents on Sunday.”
Something about Sophie’s casual sharing of her life made Cecilia feel a little better about opening up, too.
“Do they live here? Sam and his parents?” she asked.
“Yup. Sam’s place is only a few blocks away, close to the police station. His parents have a house on the north end of town,” Sophie explained.
After a brief interruption where they ordered their omelets, Sophie launched straight back into conversation.
“So I’ve been thinking more about your first Sunday here. We talked about our different backgrounds. How is it feeling now, being in a traditional setting for a month?” she asked.
Cecilia tilted her head and surveyed the restaurant while she thought about how to answer.
“I guess it doesn’t feel quite as different as it did at first, but I still don’t know what’s going on a lot of the time. So much of it feels like a foreign language,” she replied.
Sophie nodded. “I can see that. Did you grow up in a contemporary church?”
“No,” Cecilia replied. She thought about saying nothing more, but decided that since Sophie went out of her way to make the invitation, Cecilia would offer her a bit more. “I didn’t grow up in a church at all. It was just me and my mom, and she… well, she wasn’t religious, let’s put it that way. She named me after a song about a woman named Cecilia who cheats. It’s terrible.”
Sophie looked momentarily puzzled, then surprised. “Oh, I know that song. I used to listen to Simon & Garfunkel as a kid, but I had no idea what it meant.” Sophie wrinkled her nose. “She named you after that song? It wasn’t just because she liked the name?”
“She loved the song. She said it was upbeat,” Cecilia said with an eye roll.
“Well, it’s still a pretty name, I think,” Sophie said with a decisive nod. Cecilia had to smile. “So how’d you end up in church at all if your mom didn’t go?”
Here it was. Could she be brave? While she was a pretty sheltered person, her instincts told her Sophie was a kind soul. Just do it, Cici.
“My husband, actually,” she said softly. She ignored the little wrinkle in Sophie’s forehead and continued. “We met when I was waitressing to put myself through cosmetology school. He went to this big, modern church in Madison while he was in college.”
Sophie took a sip of her iced tea before speaking.
“I don’t mean to be rude or pry, but, um, where is he? Your husband, I mean,” she asked haltingly.
“In heaven,” Cecilia replied.
“Oh, hon,” Sophie gushed, immediately stretching her arm to put a hand over Cecilia’s. Surprisingly, the contact felt nice instead of awkward.
“I won’t be a pest and ask you all sorts of questions. I’m a sympathy crier, so please, let’s not start,” Sophie joked, but Cecilia could see she had to swallow hard after she spoke.
“It’s okay,” Cecilia found herself reassuring Sophie. But she was also glad to not be talking about it. Maybe someday when they were better friends, they would.
Wow, look at her, planning for the future and all. Cecilia found herself smiling despite the sad conversation.
“So anyway, he brought me to church. We went to a Bible class together so I could learn more about it, but that’s it. And it was basically a bunch of chairs in a renovated warehouse. Nothing like Bethel,” Cecilia returned to the church conversation.
“Bethel is cute, don’t you think?” Sophie commented.
“It is,” Cecilia agreed. She wouldn’t have picked the word ‘cute’, but it fit the old white church in some ways.
“Well, if you ever want to talk through church some more, I’m happy to do that. Or I could go with you to the more contemporary one in Williamson, if you’d like,” Sophie offered.
Cecilia thought about it for a minute. “I think I’d like to stay at Bethel,” she finally spoke. “I like my friends.”
“We like you, too,” Sophie returned her smile. Then she sat up straighter. “Ooh, since you’re staying, that brings up the question: do you like thrift shopping? Because I love it, but I haven’t found a good thrifting buddy yet. Mostly because there isn’t a thrift store in New Albany, and half the people here seem to think no other town exists outside its borders.” Sophie rolled her eyes, but smiled.
“I love thrifting!” Cecilia perked up. “I’ve noticed there isn’t a store here. I wish someone would start one. It’s a big enough town that I bet you could get all kinds of donations, or even sell on consignment.”
“Yes!” Sophie agreed. “We could clean out everyone’s attics.”
“Oh my goodness. Let me tell you about the weird casserole thing I found at Gary’s house…”