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It had been just over three weeks since her father's demise and yet Sophie could not come to terms with his death. Andrew had told her that it was her father's time to go, that her father had done his job in this world and therefore it was time for him to depart.
But Sophie still thought it was unfair. How could God just snatch away her father like that? Did God not realise that she would be growing up fatherless, that she would have no father figure in her life when she needed to be tough and strong?
She believed that there was a greater force that was with them but to believe it God was asking for something else. God was supposed to be kind, forgiving and mature. He wasn't supposed to snatch children's father's away.
And that was how Sophie had found herself snuggled beside Andrew in bed that evening as her mother was cooking dinner in the kitchen downstairs. Andrew was considered family. Her father never quite liked Andrew very much. He always said that her boyfriend was way too playful but Sophie knew Andrew more than her father did. She knew where her loyalties lay and she didn't doubt them. Yes, Andrew did seem like a fool but Sophie knew he only pretended to be like one. Andrew was a genius. He was her genius.
"You believe in God, don't you?" Sophie asked, her blonde hair splayed across his chest.
Andrew brushed away the strands of hair that kept her beautiful face from view and smiled cheekily down at her, "I do believe that is why I go to church most Sunday mornings."
Sophie ignored his childish behaviour and sat up, removing her body from his. She crossed her legs beneath as she sat in a yoga position and played with her nails, biting her lip.
"You're worrying your bottom lip," Andrew stated. Then sitting up properly and adjusting to the same position his girlfriend was in, he popped his elbows down on his knees and looked her meaningfully in the eye. "Okay, out with it. What do you want to say?"
"Uh," she started hesitantly. "I know we haven't ever discussed religion. Like God and all of that. I just want to know why you believe so strongly in him. I mean, everyone says how amazing and kind he is. But if he's given all these stunning and wonderful attributes, then why did he take Dad away? Why did Dad have to die?"
Andrew pouted his lips and his dark eyebrows drew in. It has his thinking face. "Everyone dies, Soph," he said after a few seconds of thoughtful silence passed.
"I know that, Andrew. But... He was just forty-two. He didn't have to die so young."
Andrew sighed before gathering his girlfriend's hand in his before kissing her knuckles so she could relax. He knew she was over thinking everything that he had told her the week before at the graveyard when she had requested him to take her to see her father.
"Baby, you know how we get these tests in school?" Andrew asked and when Sophie nodded, he said, "well, it's to see how smart we are. How we will react to the questions. How we will succeed in becoming a better person. School does give us knowledge. It teaches us something and to prove that it has taught us something we are given tests."
Sophie stared quizzically at him. "I don't understand what you're getting at."
"What I'm trying to say is that God works in a similar way."
"How so?"
"Every so often he gives us tests to prove our worth. Imagine if you were rich. You'd be blessed with all that wealth. Sometimes, in worst case scenarios, that wealth gets to you. You become egotistical, arrogant, mean. Just because you're rich you think you're on top of the world. I'm not trying to say that all rich people are like this but very few people are like this. And what if one day they went bankrupt? Wouldn't they be devastated? How would they react? Would they react harshly out of anger or would they try to cope with what they had until they were able to get back on their feet? Sometimes we need a wake up call to realise what we have. We don't appreciate the little things we have in our lives until they are gone or taken away from us-"
"Are you trying to say that I didn't appreciate Dad?" Sophie cut off Andrew's speech with a challenging tone.
Andrew was quiet for a few moments before he angled his body so he could get a better look at his girlfriend's face. "Did you?"
His question sent Sophie's mind reeling. Did she ever appreciate her father? He had done so much bad, he had done all the wrong things and she had found herself disliking her father more and more as the years went on. She had been proud of him for putting a stop to his old ways but it was all too late.
Sophie looked away as she felt a little ashamed to look at Andrew. "No," she whispered. "I've never really appreciated having him as a father." She didn't expect him to reply and when he didn't she felt a little more at ease. He just took her hand into his and squeezed in support. That was another thing she liked about Andrew. Sometimes he didn't truly understand what she was feeling and despite that he'd always be there to give her the support she needed.
"So what?" Sophie said after Andrew's words sunk into her mind. "How is taking Dad away from me a test?"
"How are you reacting to this, Soph?" he questioned. "You used to be this peppy girl, always jumping about. You never had an ounce of cynicism in you and if you did you never showed it. I've never seen you contemplate like this so much. You're silent most of the time and I can't tell what's going on in your head and it frustrates me because I'm always here to support you but you won't do anything. You won't cry, you won't smile. You just stay silent. Soph, when someone dies the world stops for a moment. Not for everyone, but it stops for the people who were affected by the person's death. But the world has to keep going, it has to keep spinning on it's axis otherwise it would lose control, it would give in to this void sadness."
Andrew took both of her hands in his and squeezed it. She looked at him, warmth filling her heart but her eyes held confusion. Was she supposed to cry? She definitely felt hurt that her father had passed away. She was definitely pissed that he was gone. But was she really supposed to cry? What would crying entail? What good would it do to her?
"Sophie, say something."
She was silent for a few seconds before she opened her mouth to speak. "My father just died," she said, her words piercing harshly at the atmosphere that shrouded them, "and you're telling me to move on?"
Andrew sighed falling back into his previous position and drawing his hands away from her. "It's been one week since we went to see your dad's grave together, Sophie. Seven days. And you've just become this robotic thing. Be human, Soph. Cry, scream, do something! Let all those emotions out, Soph. It's wrecking you inside and it kills me to see you like this."
Sophie didn't say anything. She didn't know what to tell him. Should she tell him that she was still uncertain about what she truly felt about her father's demise? Should she tell him that she was afraid that if she let all those emotions out, it would completely wreck her? She didn't know what she should tell him so instead of saying anything she kept her mouth shut.
"I want my Sophie back," Andrew whispered, almost pleadingly as he gave her a meaningful look. He then leaned forward, placed a quick and sweet kiss to her cheek and got off her bed, heading straight for the door to make his exit.
