Sophia

Sophia impatiently brushed her hair back out of her face as the train lurched forward. She reached down and wrenched her biology textbook out of her messenger bag. Instead of dutifully turning to "Childhood Diseases and Infections," she stared out the window at the passing apartment buildings, leaving the textbook open on her lap. She had wanted to get in some studying on the train from work back to school, but the soft smell of spring that hung in the air today, even on the train, was making her restless. She watched the windows of the passing buildings, trying to guess who lived behind them.

She smiled a little and leaned back, stretching out her legs under her book. She knew why her excitement grew as the weather warmed. Since high school, she had spent every summer in Venezuela, her birthplace, working in a children's clinic. She could endure the New York weather while she was at college, but nothing made her heart light like the lengthening days and the approach of her yearly pilgrimage. When Sophia was born, her mother had worked as a translator at the American embassy in Venezuela. They had lived there, the two of them, for a blissful 12 years. Then, once the US Government recognized her mother's talent for translation, they had been transferred to Washington DC. After humid, beautiful Caracas, DC was cold, gray and tired-looking, and it made Sophia feel cold, gray and tired. She had begged her mother every summer to let her visit Caracas, but her mother couldn't afford to take time off, and Sophia was too young to go alone.

She smiled broader as she pressed her toe into the seat in front of her and remembered the year she had discovered "La Casa". She had been reading all the billboards in coffee shops and supermarkets, hoping to find a summer job that didn't include answering phones or walking dogs. Then she spotted it. It was a small, inconspicuous sign advertising a "demanding but rewarding job assisting in a children's clinic in Caracas, Venezuela. No experience necessary, but lots of patience and some Spanish ability required." The best part was that, although the position was unpaid, the airfare and room and board were free. She had run straight home and hadn't stopped talking until her mother had laughingly agreed. The next thing she knew, she was on a plane back home.

That summer had been unlike any other. It had been wonderful to be back in a familiar place, but the real reward was unexpected. For the first time, she felt genuinely useful and… necessary. She didn't know anything about nursing, but she could hold a child's hand through a shot. She couldn't administer medicine, but she could stay up with a child through the night when he or she couldn't sleep. And she learned fast. By the time she was sixteen, she could change bandages and keep track of all the children's medications.

Now, in her 21st summer, she was going back, and she couldn't wait. New York was exciting, but she felt very anonymous. No one here needed her, and barely anyone noticed her. The regulars in the coffee shop she worked at recognized her and would chat about their work when they had time, but then she was only an ear.

She realized she was feeling sorry for herself and turned her eyes sternly back to her book. She didn't have time for people who thought of her as more than an ear. She wanted to be a doctor, and for that she needed to study, not stare out the train window feeling sorry for herself. She kept her nose buried in biology for the remainder of the ride home.

Sophia Morales didn't want to be like the other girls she knew. She was passionate about her work and didn't have time to be a little girl while she was at school. School was for studying, and it all was for her degree. She had never had a boyfriend. People who wanted to become pediatricians and save the world did not have boyfriends. Summer in South America was when she could be a little girl. There were no tests, no competition, only expectations she could handle, and the gratitude of little kids.

When she got back to her tiny room at one of Columbia University's dormitories, she dropped her bag next to her desk and sat down wearily. Only fifteen minutes until class, but she had time to check her email. Sitting in her inbox was a nice surprise: a message from Miguel, a man who also volunteered at La Casa Soleada. She and Miguel had become quick friends many summers ago, when he had begun volunteering. He lived in Caracas with his sister, Lucia, and they had become so comfortable over the last summer that they had fallen easily into a friendly email correspondence during the year. His letter was in Spanish.

Sophia, my dear,

The weather report says that it was 14 degrees Celsius today in your fair city. Come home, silly girl, to our palm trees and waves. How is school? I'm sure you are working hard; you're so serious. Lucia is doing well, though I wish she would worry a little more about exams and a little less about boys. Of course, boys know better than to come around here while I'm home, but I know she sees them at school, and I'm not at all sure she's been discouraging them. Am I being a paranoid older brother? Perhaps. But she's growing up to be such a little beauty, and I know I'm not the only one who's noticed.

Francisco just told me that he'll be leaving for the summer. We'll need a new general surgeon- Carrie can't handle it all by herself. Do you know of any doctors with good hearts? Ask around- our search so far has been frantic and not very organized. Take care of yourself, little one, and dress warmly,

Miguel

Sophia laughed about Lucia. She was 14 and didn't really mean anything serious by her flirting, Sophia was sure. However, she probably did think it was fun to get Miguel riled up by talking about boys oh-so-casually.

Dear Miguel,

Yes, thanks, I noticed the weather. I miss the bright sun, the warm nights, and of course, your and Lucia's happy faces. I'm counting down the days until I'm on the plane home. As for school, I am working hard, but not hard enough. I've got finals in a few days, and all I can seem to concentrate on are the bright streets of Caracas.

How is your studying going? We should be writing back and forth in English, you know; it's good practice. When are you signed up to take the TOEFL? I hope it's after the summer- then I could help you study.

I'll ask around about doctors, but I can't promise anything.

So Lucia's noticing and being noticed, eh? Sucks for you- it's just what happens when a smart, pretty girl suddenly becomes girlfriend material to all those guy friends. Don't you worry, she and I will go out together and pick up boys. At least she won't be alone, right? Oh, calm down, I was just kidding. Breathe, big brother. We little sisters just like to tease you sometimes.

Sophia

She stretched as she looked at the clock on her computer and squeeked. 3:04! Already four minutes late, she grabbed her bag and bolted unceremoniously from the room.

*****

Miguel clicked send on the computer screen and leaned back. The email he'd just written to Sophia was friendly, but not too obvious. He thought about her quick smile and her dark brown hair that was constantly escaping her ponytail and falling into her face. Miguel had quickly learned, last summer, that her delicate features contrasted with her stubborn disposition. And then her little hips and long legs-

"Hey, are you using this computer or what?"

Miguel jumped out of his reverie and looked at the impatient man standing behind him. "Sorry, no. I'm done," Miguel apologized as he signed off and got up. He'd forgotten he was in the public library. He shook himself as he walked back towards the exit. He shouldn't be thinking about Sophia that way. She was in college and on her way to a serious career, and besides, she didn't think of him as anything more than a friend. And it should stay that way. She was much too sweet, much too pretty and much too perfect. Miguel would fall head-over-heels if he wasn't careful.

Miguel hadn't gone to college yet because he didn't have the money, but he had high aspirations. He wanted to be a lawyer someday and defend the workers of Caracas from the international companies that set up their sweatshops in the poor neighborhoods. And a little more money than he had now would be nice. He thought about someday being able to support Lucia without worries, and smiled. Maybe he would have enough money to send her to a private, all-girls school. Yet another bonus to working hard.

*****

The next morning, Sophia woke with a start. She lifted her face up and realized that her cheek was stuck to the pages of the book she'd spent the night on. As she carefully peeled the page off her right cheek, she sighed. More annoyed that she'd been unable to stay awake long enough to finish the chapter than that she had a huge crick in her neck, she grabbed a towel and stumbled toward the bathroom.

On the train to work, she thought vaguely about Miguel's note and any doctors she knew. There weren't many, and the ones she knew were more concerned with their pocketbooks than their hearts. The ones who really cared were already doing useful things in America. This would be hard. She hopped off the train at her stop and looked at her watch. Again, she thought, as she broke into a run.

"Hey, Eddie," Sophia panted breathlessly as she burst into the backdoor of the café. Her boss looked at her and pointed at the clock. "I know, I'm sorry, I just…"

"Fell asleep on your book again?" chimed in Nina. Sophia nodded sheepishly as Eddie pointed her to the cash register. Sophia straightened her soft skirt and sleeveless blouse she had worn for the occasion of a warm day and got to work.

*****

Tom Anderson stepped out of the hospital doors into the rare sunlight. He had an hour break in between shifts, and he wasn't going to spend it in the hospital. General surgery, the specialty he was training for, certainly wasn't as nice and clean as his current specialty, anesthesiology. For one thing, he kept on being called in at strange hours. He missed the nice, regular schedule he used to keep. For another, if he took a general surgery job, he wouldn't get paid half as much. You wanted to have two specialties, he reminded himself, sighing. It's your own damn fault.

He lazily turned the corner as his mind wandered to a date he'd had last Friday. Pretty woman, but not much upstairs. And not too interested in conversation. But that's what he wanted, right? A nice body that he wouldn't want to stick around too long. He peered into the passing shops and he walked by. They were small and conventional, with long racks of clothing in the shops and restaurants with televisions in the corners. No one I know would shop on this street, he thought. Perfect, I don't want to run into the gang; this hour is mine.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Or more exactly, someone. He stopped and doubled back to the café he'd passed. There, at the register. A girl with creamy brown skin, long brown hair, and delicate shoulders set off by her modest top. And wow, exotic, sharp black eyes. But it was the flick of her hand as she swept a strand of hair behind her ear, so unselfconsciously, that hooked him. Why not? He grinned as he pushed in the door. Tom knew he looked good in a suit and he was sure he'd impress her without effort. She's just a café worker. She'll fall all over herself to say yes.

"Hey there, Sophia," Tom said, as he approached the register and glanced at her name badge.

"Hi," she said shortly, unphased. "What would you like?" She brushed her hair back impatiently and looked at him.

So she wasn't thrown off by the name thing. He'd be more direct. "A date, this Friday."

She blinked at him. Now he noticed that her beautiful eyes sat under a brow that looked very intelligent and, god help him, serious. "That's nice. Good luck finding someone to take with you. Now, what do you want to eat?"

He grinned at her as smoothly as he could manage. "I meant with you."

She stared hard at him. "That's not on the menu. If you're not going to order, please move, because you're holding up the line."

"A small chai latte, then." He watched her as she lightly tapped in his order to the computer. Nice small hands.

"$2.35."

He held out the money and made to brush her hand as he gave it to her, but she dropped her hand abruptly as soon as the money touched it. Ok, so she was expecting that. He had been expecting an easy catch, but now he was intrigued.

"Here's your receipt and change. Go have a seat; I'll bring it to you when it's ready. Next, please."

"Ooh, special service," he chided, pretending not to know that she delivered all the hot drinks to the tables as part of her job. She ignored him.

Sophia turned away from the register and flushed. Of all the arrogant assumptions… what made him think she was single? Or that she would be interested in someone like him? She glanced at his retreating back. His suit jacket fit nicely across his broad shoulders, and he was tall. He probably thought she was desperate or something. Did she look desperate?

She took the next few orders and then turned to fill them. Eddie came up to her. "After you finish with that, take 10 minutes. You look tired." He turned away and started scrubbing the counter vigorously. Eddie liked to play at being stern, but he sometimes let slip a concerned word and then had to cover it up by cleaning something fiercely. Sophia thanked him and carefully hoisted her tray of drinks onto one hand and came out from behind the counter to deliver them.

Tom had been watching her closely as she dealt with other customers. As she came out from behind the counter, he caught a glimpse of her long, brown legs. Ending in sensible black Converse shoes. Okay, well, she was practical and exotic. He watched her lean over to hand a little boy his hot chocolate, and then she smiled. Oh wow, could she smile. Her eyes crinkled and it looked like an anvil had just been lifted off her shoulders. Now, that was interesting. What did she have to worry about? He saw her chatting with the other customers as she handed out the orders.

She walked toward his table, rather slowly. She set his cup down without a word and turned to go. "Hey," he said. "Don't I get some conversation?"

She fixed him with that stare from earlier. Then she looked at a spot somewhat above his left shoulder and said, "Fine. How was work?" She looked at her tray and then finally, back at him.

"Great!" he said, brightly. "Though it's not work. I am doing rotations for certification as a general surgeon at St. James Hospital."

"Really?" She suddenly looked him in the eyes, but this time it didn't seem like she was trying to fry him. Rather, she suddenly looked interested. He took up the tack. "Yeah, I'm already certified as an anesthesiologist, and I work at a private practice, but I wanted to have two certifications." He debated whether to add that this was because two certifications made you look more attractive to private, higher-paying practices. He decided not to.

"What part of your rotations are you in?" she asked, almost moving toward the chair opposite him.

"Please, sit. I'm learning about back surgery. Though I'm mostly watching, at the moment." All of a sudden, it seemed like her lights were on. Her face was open and her hands relaxed on the table in front of her. He was startled at the change.

"So do you do any extremities surgery or is it mostly torso area?"

"Extremities right now. Hey, how do you know so much about rotations and surgery?"

"I want to be a pediatrician. Or a surgeon. But I want to do children's medicine."

"Really? That's great, we always need more children's doctors. A lot of people think treating children is just like treating little adults, but it's not at all. There's a whole field of anesthesiology just on how to properly treat children. Are you in medical school?"

She smiled. Hallelujah, he thought. A smile, just for me. "Not yet. I'm an undergrad right now."

"Really? Where at?"

"Columbia. I'm a junior. So where are you an anesthesiologist?"

"A private practice. Johnson and Howe Specialty Surgery."

"Oh. Plastic surgery." She drew her hands back from the table.

He laughed lightly. "Hey, you say that like it's a bad thing. There are a lot of people who pay good money to look better. And they need surgeons too."

"When there's a shortage of good doctors in city hospitals, where there are real emergencies?" she demanded. Whoa, he'd gone the wrong way.

"See, just because you obviously don't need it doesn't mean there aren't a lot of people who do." He smiled smoothly at her, hoping to bring her back in with the compliment.

She stood up. Whoops. "I should get back to work. You can leave your cup there when you're done." She turned and walked back behind the counter. Damn. He hadn't felt so off-balance since high school. He frowned and turned back to his cup.

Sophia walked around the corner and into the back room. That was weird. He was a doctor, and he seemed genuinely excited to talk about what he did. She had even begun to open up a bit, but then it turned out he did anesthesiology for rich people. She wondered why he was getting a second certification, when he was obviously already making a lot of money. Maybe there was something more to him. Or maybe not.

*****

The next day, he showed up again. Sophia didn't even see him coming until he was at the register. Without looking up, she asked, "What would you like?"

"A date with you. You know, you should really put that on the menu." She looked up. It was him, looking happy and smug for having caught her unawares. He was handsome, she realized with a start. He had longish, light brown hair and bright green eyes. And his smile was nice, really nice.

She shook herself. "Nope, sorry. Next!"

He quickly reached out and touched her hand. She jumped and pulled back her hand. Why was she being so skittish?

He put his hand on the counter. "Alright. A small chai latte then." As he walked away, Nina came up behind her.

"So, who's that? Weren't you talking to him yesterday? Wow, he's hot," Nina said, all in one breath. Nina was nice, but a little nosy, and she only got interested in the conversation when it concerned men, her favorite subject.

Sophia laughed and closed the register drawer. "Well, you can have him."

"Really?" Nina practically bounced. Sophia could feel the man watching her from his table near the window.

"Sure, take his drink over to him." Sophia handed her the chai latte and turned back to the next customer with a smile. See what he thinks of that.

She watched Nina's progress out of the corner of her eye. Because she couldn't hear their conversation over the noises of the cafe, she watched them like a silent movie. Him, looking up to see Nina and then quickly glancing back to the counter, where Sophia was pretending to fix the register. She watched them talk. She liked the man's easy way of gesturing and his animated face. Nina laughed at something he had said and casually put her hand on his arm. Sophia flinched. This is what she wanted, wasn't it? She sent Nina over there to flirt. She turned back to the cups and rested her hand on the back counter.

Suddenly, Nina was back. "So?" asked Sophia.

"Eh, I think I was too late. He only wanted to ask questions about you. Sorry babe, you're stuck." Nina laughed lightly at the look of horror on Sophia's face. "Come on, he's nice, friendly, and—did I mention—hot? You haven't been on a date since high school. Live a little."

Sophia sighed. That was silly. She was living; she just wasn't dating. "Excuse me, Miss Boys-on-the-mind, we've got a customer." She went back to the register. After she took the woman's order, she turned around to talk to Nina again. But she wasn't there. The man was, and he was very close in the tight area. She backed into the register.