The radio is playing All You Need Is Love, Sofie’s all-time favorite Beatles song, going back to high school. Lately she’s gotten into the habit of singing the tune over and over for hours, until Joe sneaks up behind her and whispers, “Will you shut the fuck up already? You’re driving me crazy.”
SOFIE THE WARRIOR QUEEN BY DAVID MEDINA 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 51
Sofie Rivera is driving to Whole Foods this morning to pick up a few groceries that she could easily buy for much less at the Shoprite three blocks from home.
Sunshine pokes through the passing trees like tiny spotlights on her burgundy Volvo 240 as she cruises through the parkway. The wind blowing in through the driver’s side window lifts her shoulder-length hair like a cape.
The radio is playing All You Need Is Love, Sofie’s all-time favorite Beatles song, going back to high school. Lately she’s gotten into the habit of singing the tune over and over for hours, until Joe sneaks up behind her and whispers, “Will you shut the fuck up already? You’re driving me crazy.”
“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry.”
But as soon as Joe returns to his spot on the sofa, and without giving it another thought, she’s singing it again. Joe shakes his head and lets it pass most times, but not always.
“For Chrissake, Sofie! Stop!”
“Okay, okay, okay.”
Sofie tightens her throat to prevent the song from slipping out again. Who knows? All You Need is Love could be just the thing that makes Joe get rid of her. And then what would she do with herself ? She’s 67 years old.
Joe has never even hinted at getting rid of her. But Sofie keeps it in the back of her head nonetheless because of the way they got married.
They were lovers since high school. Sofie was a 13-year-old freshman and Joe was a junior, at 16 already living on his own, with a fuzz on his face that made him stand out like an older man in a school full of boys.
Their eyes met one day as they passed each other in the hall between classes and they lingered just a bit too long before turning away. After that they’d catch each other sneaking so many looks that it became a game. It got so that they planned their day around those moments. If Sofie looked particularly attractive, he’d nod approvingly. If, by chance, they missed each other, she worried herself to death, imagining that he was sick or injured or in some kind of trouble.
Then one day, without even knowing her name, Joe asked Sofie to follow him to a corner of the library where no one could see them, and they kissed until the bell rang for the next class period. Weeks later, Sofie went with Joe to the basement apartment he kept with the money he earned moving furniture on weekends. They stayed together long enough for Sofie to expect that Joe would one day go down on one knee and present her with an engagement ring. But when he finally got around to proposing, he made it sound as if Sofie would be marrying him as a favor—to avoid getting drafted to fight in Vietnam.
“I thought we’d get married eventually, I mean, you know, with a big wedding and all, like a few years down the line,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “Now I’ve got this problem. I might be able to get a deferment if I have a wife when they call me in.”
There were no guarantees. She was free to back out if she wanted, Joe told her.
“I suppose I could run away to Canada, too, but everything I have is here.”