Finally! We get to see some grandmother and granddaughter bonding!

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The ping of a new message interrupted the song Sophia listened to. She continued with her task, leaving the message for the time being. When her current song finished, it felt like a comfortable break in her progress and she set down the mini screwdriver she held. Before the next song could start, she paused it and read the message.

Mother: Your grandmother is here. Come down when you want.

All thought of finishing the computer vanished. Sophia hurriedly stored away her tools and tidied up the remaining parts, leaving her desk pleasantly neat with everything on it perfectly angled with right corners aligned.

Before Sophia even saw her grandmother, she felt a smile appear. She loved Abuela. But at times Abuela hugged Sophia when she didn't feel she needed or wanted a hug. Abuela loved Sophia, but sometimes that love felt overwhelming in the ways she showed it.

But not Grandmother, not her father's mother. Grandmother was poise, self-contained affection, and elegance. Everything about her Grandmother made Sophia feel comfortable with herself.

When Sophia entered the living, Grandmother rose and opened her arms. It was a gesture that made Sophia feel seen and understood. The choice to accept the hug was up to Sophia, there was no pressure to display affection but affection was offered.

Without having to think about it, Sophia rushed to her Grandmother and hugged her. The feel of her arms felt different than her mother's. Grandmother hugged with tender love. She smelled subtly of sweet French perfume and her clothes always felt soft.

"How is my beautiful granddaughter?" Grandmother asked.

"Happy to see you," Sophia said.

Another contrast to Abuela was that Grandmother lived out of the city and visited but not with the equal frequency as Abuela who appeared almost daily. It meant Grandmother's visits were an unexpected treat.

"Yvette has given me permission to be the one to take you shopping," Grandmother said. "I am told you need a dress for one of your relation's Quinceanera. Would you let me be the one to take you shopping?"

"I would enjoy that. Am I dressed appropriately?"

Sophia took a step back to let her grandmother appraise her attire. It was Saturday which meant comfortable clothes, a pair of wide-legged, soft slacks, and an expensive, cotton shirt tucked into them.

"You look wonderful," Grandmother said. "It is getting chilly, I would suggest a jacket."

Sophia retreated to the entryway and opened the coat closet. Since her grandmother, who was always precise with her words, had said chilly and not cold, Sophia chose a light jacket. As she emerged from the closet, her grandmother and parents waited for her.

"Will we be walking?" Sophia asked.

"A bit. Pick a comfortable pair of shoes."

Sophia chose one of her most broken-in pair of loafers. Since she'd worn them for nine hours straight once, she judged them to be the best. The added factor of being easily removed and put back on fit with the task of the day.

"Are you ready?" Grandmother asked.

"Yes."

Grandmother held out her hand and Sophia happily took it. Her grandmother's hands were soft and delicate. Like an artist's hand in Sophia's mind. Why she had this connection in her mind, she couldn't pinpoint but it was there all the same.

"Do you have a brand you prefer?" Grandmother asked her, as they sat in the back of her grandmother's car.

"Father often takes me to Gucci if I need anything," Sophia said. "Though Mama believes other stores are fine to shop at as well. She once took me to a Nordstrom store."

"Well, for our task today we'll go to Gucci. If we don't find anything we like we can always visit Dior or Chanel. Now tell me how school is going?"

Sophia hesitated, glancing at her grandmother's driver. It wasn't that she believe the man to care about the details of her life, but sharing them when someone she didn't know listening felt uncomfortable to her. Especially when she wanted to tell her grandmother more than where her grades were.

"That can come later," Grandmother said. "Why don't you tell me what style you like?"

As they drove, Sophia explained how she felt the safest in simple designs. Big patterns made her feel like she was trying to be someone else. She preferred silk the most since the smooth, soft texture didn't bother her. Since she knew she already garnered attention from boys, she preferred high collars and nothing that went too high on her legs. Black or dark tones made her feel protected.

By the time Sophia finished explaining her preference, they arrived at the Gucci store. The Chauffeur exited quickly and opened the door for Grandmother. Sophia climbed out and joined her grandmother on the sidewalk.

"I'll call you when we need you," Grandmother said.

The chauffeur nodded and as he drove off, Grandmother directed them towards the entrance, which was opened for them by two men in uniforms. Before they walked a few steps into the store, a woman in a sharp suit seemed to materialize in front of them.

"Mrs. Douglas," the woman said. "It's a pleasure to have you with us. Are you looking for anything particular today?"

Grandmother gestured to Sophia. "A dress for my granddaughter. Nothing with bold prints. Understated. Black or dark tones. Silk needs to be the main material."

"I'll find what you need," the woman said.

Before she left, she ushered them to a set of curved couches. The store felt soothing to Sophia. The style was minimalist. Nothing about the store felt overwhelming, not like some stores Sophia had been in. There weren't ranks of clothes with too many options in too many colors. It all felt contained and accessible.

The woman returned, rolling a single rank with only ten dresses on it. "These are some of our top options but if they aren't to you're liking there are others."

When Grandmother stood, Sophia did likewise. Each dress fell under the parameters of what Sophia wanted. One by one, her grandmother inspected each option with Sophia next to her.

"Do any stand out to you?" Grandmother asked.

"This one."

The dress had a high collar with a bow and a skirt that had a base of silk overlaid with tulle designed with small black butterflies.

"You know," Grandmother said. "That was the one I thought of as well. Let's see how it looks."

Sophia smiled, happy Grandmother approved her choice. When Sophia tried on the dress, before she even examined her reflection, she knew it was the dress. She felt like herself in it.

"You look beautiful," Grandmother said as Sophia stepped out of the dressing room. "How do you feel?"

"Comfortable."

"Excellent. Do you wish to see anything else?"

"No."

"We'll take this," Grandmother said to the woman. "Now change and we can get some lunch."

With the dress bought and held in the store for later pickup, Sophia and her grandmother made their way back to the street.

"Do you have a preference for where we eat lunch?" Grandmother asked.

"No. Where ever you think is adequate is fine."

"Then let's go to Angelo's."

When they stepped into the fragrant restaurant, the hostess lifted her head and smiled. As they approached, the hostess's eyes widened a bit.

"Mrs. Douglas," she said. "It's a pleasure to have you here."

With the woman in the Gucci store, Sophia inferred that her grandmother shopped there often. It was possible she also frequented this restaurant. But Sophia acknowledged a likely second reason for the recognition and attentiveness, like her father, Grandmother was a person most of the world knew for her time as First Lady.

Though used to the attention given, it made Sophia curious about how other people with common relatives lived. Though on her mother's side, no one ever recognized Abuela, unless they were in her neighborhood. Two different grandmothers, Sophia the common denominator of them.

"Do you want to tell me about your life now?" Grandmother asked as the hostess left them with menus and a promise to be back. "Or do you wish to wait for food before sharing?"

Sophia appreciated her grandmother understanding her. Interruptions at their lowest level were annoying, but at their highest made Sophia feel like the rest of the day was thrown out of alignment.

"I would prefer to wait till food," Sophia said.

"Very well. Would you like to hear what I have been doing?"

"I would."

Grandmother told her about the charities she was involved in, what they accomplished, and how she hoped to expand them. She talked of her plans to stay at Lake Como the next summer, offering Sophia an open invitation to come stay with her if she wanted and for any length of time. Sophia said she would consider the offer and thanked her for giving her adequate time to think it over.

When the food arrived and they had taken some time to eat, Sophia knew her time to share had come.

"Before you start," Grandmother said. "I have a question I would like to ask you."

"Okay."

"You will turn fifteen next year. Do you plan to have your own quinceanera?"

"A quinceanera is a celebration of entering womanhood," Sophia said. "I do not think that is something an age can define. Some days I feel older than my peers. But... sometimes I feel much younger since I don't always understand why they react the way they do. I think to have a quinceanera when I don't feel like a woman would be a false celebration."

"I can understand that. Now, why don't you tell me about this First Son I hear you are friends with?"

Since Grandmother had not tried to imply there was more to their friendship, Sophia happily told her. She explained how even though he felt very different from her because he was always himself and spoke straightforward, she felt comfortable with him.

Even when he had too much energy because he didn't try to dump that energy on her but kept it contained to himself, she didn't mind being around him. And she liked his smile because it looked like him.

"He sounds like a delightful young man," Grandmother said.

"I think he is. I think you should wait to meet him."

"How come?"

"He sometimes lacks common mannerisms that I think you might find unruly."

Her grandmother laughed. "Dear, I raised Mason. I can handle an unruly boy. Especially if he is someone who you like."

"Then you should meet him."

"I would love to."

With her grandmother informed of all the interesting things happening in her life and their meal finished, the pair departed. In the foyer of Sophia's home, her grandmother left the dress in a garment hanging in the closet and turned to Sophia.

"Thank you for letting me be with you today," she said.

"You're welcome. I enjoyed it."

Grandmother opened her arms and Sophia stepped into her hug.

"I'm proud of you," Grandmother whispered. "And the wonderful person you are growing up to be. I love you."

The words spoken by someone who had seen most of the world and interacted with its most influential people felt like the biggest type of encouragement. Her grandmother wasn't one to give false praise. These words were true and gave Sophia hope that she might continue to adjust to a world that left her confused so much of the time.

"Enjoy the quinceanera," Grandmother said as she opened the front door.

"I will try to do so."

*******

Sophia stood before her mirror, inspecting her reflection. With the effort and money her grandmother had put into getting her the right dress, she wanted to show that she appreciated it by looking nice in it. She smiled a little when feeling she had done both her grandmother and the dress justice.

Though it was fabric sewn together, clothes helped Sophia feel protected and able to adjust to the different atmospheres she entered.

A knock rang on her door. From the authority and quickness of it, she knew her father waited on the other side. Her mother's knock echoed her personality, quiet and soft.

"Come in," Sophia said, turning away from her mirror in order to give her father the chance to inspect her appearance.

Mason opened the door and stepped inside. Though his knock always sounded assertive, he never entered Sophia's room fully until she made eye contact with him. Secondary permission. That was unless she was working and listening to music, then he had permission to enter and let her know he was there with a note.

"Do you think Grandmother would approve?" Sophia asked.

Instead of an instant reply, her father gave her question and appearance a minute's consideration. It was how she knew that what he said next would be truthful.

"She would." He smiled at her. "You look beautiful, Sophia."

Sophia smiled back at him. Hearing those words from him felt true. When guys she didn't know said comments of a similar nature to her they felt false. They were strangers, what would they know of her beauty? When her father said it, she knew those words had layers to them, layers that matched the layers of who Sophia knew herself to be.

"Are you ready for tonight?" Mason asked.

"I will know most or at least a small percentage of the people there."

Her father nodded and Sophia liked that he understood her. Ready or not ready wasn't a question she could answer until she arrived. Most situations couldn't be fully evaluated until she was in them and took in all the factors. Though she had been to quinceaneras before, that did not mean this would be the same as the last ones.

"Then let's go."

At the hotel, Sophia entered the lobby centered between her parents. Even without the banner hanging above the double doors leading to the ballroom announcing Carmella's Quinceanera, it would have been easy to find due to the music and rhythmic flow of Spanish escaping.

The ballroom looked similar to a wedding reception Sophia had gone to with her parents, down to the elegant place settings. A coordinator standing in the doorway took their names and handed them table numbers. When Sophia saw she wouldn't be at the same table as her parents, she didn't move.

"You can take my spot," her father said.

Mama put a hand on Mason's arm, meeting Sophia's gaze. She said nothing but Sophia understood. It was her decision to either accept the change or not. Sophia scanned the table to which she was assigned. Daisy wasn't there, the only biracial cousin whose other half wasn't Hispanic. The cousin Sophia connected with since their appearance set them apart from the others.

But at the table were some of the children of her mother's cousins. She knew them. Still, Sophia weighed her options and looked at her parents. Her mother watched her with a neutral expression while her father tried to hide his emotions but she saw a tiny frown on his forehead. Would he be disappointed in her if she couldn't be on her own?

"I'm fine," she said.

She headed to her table, holding the card with the number on it in both hands. With the table already filled, Sophia found her spot easily and settled into it. She gazed around at her companions, some having not noticed her while others did.

"Hello," Sophia said, insistently flipping into Spanish.

Though she knew who her mother was and the connections she had with most of the people there, Sophia didn't feel like one of them.

She wondered if this came from having a white father. Even if she spoke with the fluency of everyone, her appearance set her apart. It felt different than how she felt most of the time. Half of her belonged to these people. But sometimes even that part didn't feel welcomed.

With a few returned greetings, most of those who had paid attention to her went back to conversations. The only people who didn't were Ana and Carmen. They were cousins Sophia knew and had at times interacted with them. They were a few months older than her but that small age gap seemed to mean more to them than it did to her.

"It's been a while since we've seen you," Ana said.

"What has it been? Three months?" Carmen asked. "Since Maria's quinceanera?"

"Yes," Sophia said.

"How are you doing at high school?" Ana said. She smiled in a way that made Sophia feel like it wasn't meant to be comforting. "You know, Carmen and I made the varsity dance team even though we're freshmen. It definitely makes life easier for us."

"Yeah," Carmen said. "I hope you're not having a rough time as a freshman."

Though their words could be seen as curious, Sophia felt like they poked her. But they were words, they couldn't hurt her.

"I'm not a freshman," she said. "My parents decided it would be okay if I skipped freshman year and jumped to being a sophomore. So far I haven't found it challenging."

Ana and Carmen looked at each other. Even though they sat on either side of Sophia, she felt cut away from what the look shared. Ana rested her elbow on the table, staring at Sophia.

"You could skip a grade at your gifted school?" she asked.

"I'm not at that school anymore. My parents felt that I needed more grounding experiences and transferred me to Hamilton Prep."

Carmen let out a laugh that hurt Sophia's ears.

"Grounding experience? And they sent you to the most expensive and snobbish school in the country."

Though it had the tone of a question, Sophia didn't feel like it was one that expected an answer. Not knowing what to respond since she'd already given out the information, she said nothing.

"You know," Ana said. "I'm glad our parents think it's okay for us to go to a normal school. It would probably be too much for you, Sophia."

"It might be since my parents didn't send me to your school," Sophia said.

Carmen made a noise Sophia couldn't decipher as Ana raked her gaze over Sophia but Sophia didn't understand why.

"It's a pretty dress," Ana said, smiling again. But still, the smile made Sophia feel uncomfortable. "I think I almost got the same one."

Sophia relaxed a little. If Ana almost chose this dress, maybe she felt the same way about clothes as Sophia did. Maybe she even found the Gucci store soothing too.

"Do you also find the Gucci store to be comforting?" she asked.

Ana blinked and Carmen leaned in. "That's Gucci?"

At the question, Sophia felt like this was a safe topic.

"Yes. My grandmother heard I needed a dress for tonight and took me shopping. She asked if I had a brand preference."

"So she took you to Gucci to get a single dress?" Carmen asked.

Sophia frowned. She thought the implication was clear. If the dress was Gucci then that meant it came from a Gucci store. But maybe she needed to be clearer in her communication.

"Yes," she said. "We went to the Gucci store and a sales lady helped find it for me."

"You know our parents are just as wealthy as yours, right?" Ana said.

The question threw Sophia off guard but since it was a question she tried to answer as best she could. "I have never given thought to your parents' financial status. But now I know."

"Oh because you don't think we're on the same level as you?" Carmen asked. "Because we are. Our parents run their own law firm."

"I am aware of this," Sophia said, feeling like somehow her previous statement had angered them. But since she knew this about their family, maybe that would make them see she did know something about their parents.

"You're aware? Like it's something you've managed to learn?" Ana said, her tone making Sophia tense though she couldn't pinpoint why. "You know, you're so conceited with your dresses and fancy school. Our parents at least want us to live like normal human beings instead of stuck-up snobs."

"Better to be normal freshmen than someone rich b-"

The lights went out as music blasted through the speakers. In one side of the ballroom double doors opened and a spotlight shone on Carmella as she stepped in wearing an elaborate evening gown.

"Try not to mock her to her face," Ana hissed at Sophia. "Since the gown isn't Gucci."

Sophia felt tears prick her eyes. Mock someone for not wearing Gucci. Why would she mock someone for that? Who would be cruel enough to make remarks like that? Apparently, Ana and Carmen thought she would.

As Carmella glided onto the dance floor at the center of the tables and boys in suits formed a ring around her to dance, Sophia rose and walked away. The darkness of the room hide her as she found the closest door and slipped through it.

On the other side, she found herself in an empty, back hallway. She turned to the left and then the right but didn't know which way to take. She shouldn't leave, it was Carmella's special day and Sophia had come to celebrate with her. It would be mean to leave, but Sophia wanted to leave. She wanted to run away. She wanted her eyes to stop blurring.

"Sophia."

Sophia turned around as her mother walked through the door and shut it behind her.

"What's going on?" she asked, calmly.

"I don't know what I said. I don't know what I did to make them angry! Why would they think I am someone cruel? That I would make fun of someone?"

"Sweetheart," her mother said. "I can't understand you, you're talking in French."

"I am," Sophia continued in French. "Because I don't want them to hear me."

"English or Spanish, mija. I want to help you but I can't if I don't know what's wrong."

"Me. I'm what's wrong," Sophia continued as the door opened again and Mason walked out.

"Mason," Yvette said, taking his arm.

Sophia stared up at her father, the half of her that wasn't part of this world like her mother was.

"What is wrong with me?" she asked him. "Why do I not fit in anywhere? Why am I broken?"

"Mason, talk to me. What is she saying?" Yvette said.

Sophia looked at her mother, the grip she had on her husband's arm, the tight wrinkle in her brow.

"I've even made Mama upset," Sophia said, fighting against her tight throat. "What is wrong with me?"

Mason put a gentle hand on Yvette's strong grip and then focused on Sophia. He leaned forward, so they were eye to eye.

"Listen to me clearly," Mason said, in French, his voice the one Sophia knew meant she couldn't disobey him. "You are not broken. This is not a statement from a father to his daughter, it is a fact. I need you to acknowledge that this is a fact."

Sophia knew he expected her to repeat it back to him but she couldn't. She saw the facts. When she talked to others if there were negative feelings that arose, she caused them. Though she didn't understand how, she knew the source of the problem was herself.

"It is not a fact," Sophia said, feeling tears fall down her face. "Something is wrong with me."

Mason looked to Yvette. "Mi amor, I need my arm."

Yvette released him and Mason hugged Sophia. It wasn't a gentle hug. Sophia was crushed in his hold, her arms pinned to her chest. He held the back of her head and Sophia felt the surety of his love. Even though something was wrong with her, his hold told her he would not love her any less.

Her father straightened, lifting Sophia with him. She cried into his shoulder as he gently rocked her.

She felt the pressure of her mother joining the embrace and gently rubbing Sophia's back. In that touch she felt her mother's surety. Even if her mother didn't know Sophia was broken, she still loved her.

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I don't know whether to say hi or give you a hug

How about both? Hi there Ducky, here's a hug <(^^)>

If you are functioning as a human being who can convey your thoughts then feel free to do so! 🗯💬💭🐥

Am I saying you should leave this chapter wanting to protect Sophia and loving Mason more...

Well I'm not not saying that.

I will say this a million times, I love Mason. I love Mason in a way that doesn't make sense because it keeps growing. How is that possible?

It must be possible because it happened.

And then there is Sophia...

She has taken my life by storm. But storm isn't even the right word because she isn't a storm, she is a steady force that is always who she is. I don't even know how to describe her honestly.

Do you? Can you describe Sophia?

My mind is a muddle right now, I think it's because this chapter was so emotional.

I apologize that this author's note isn't living up to the chapter it's connected with.

Interesting inside insight: I didn't expect Sophia to speak French and not switch languages for her mother. But it happened and man, I feel for Yvette in that moment.

Before you ask for a part 2, don't worry there will be a second part, I'm working on it.

Okay, I'm going to stop functioning as a human any minute now so before I go I have to say:

Vote, comment, follow!

Shout out comments from Making Friends (part 3)

Donovan power move is something!

This fits with this chapter as well!

Because I'm happy that my smile is adorable! ☺️🙈

It's not important but this was the dress Sophia wore. ☺️