Sophie smiled crookedly, mainly because her sweet, soft-spoken mother spat out the word “bullies” with such venom. “Being different doesn’t bother me as much these days. I think... maybe there are people in the world that I have more in common with. Jesse is one of them.” Sophie twisted the bracelet around her wrist, praying for the right words. “I have so much in common with you. The things I love to eat, the stories Ilove to tell, the music I listen to... all of that came from you. I wonder if there’s something about me,” she stared unblinkingly into her parents’ eyes, “that my biological parents gave me? If I knew more about them, maybe I’d understand myself better. Especially stuff likethis.” Sophie raised her fingertips to her lips, waiting to see the faint, mysterious glow. Nothing. Maybe that was good.
“Sweetheart,” her father’s deep baritone voice rumbled across the room, like the soothing sound of the ocean’s boom, “there are things that we don’t understand. Things we don’t know.” He took his wife’s hand more firmly in his, his large fingers completely obscuring hers. “My mother, your Granny Ijemma, used to tell us, ‘once you know something, you can’t unknow it.’ Sometimes a person looks for an answer, but they’re unhappy with the answer they get. Sometimes a person isn’t strong enough for the answers they get.”
Sophie shook her head. “How could that be true in this house? You two are the strongest people I’ve ever met— and I’m strong, too. You raised me that way.” Her voice rang with bravery she didn’t truly feel. “It’s time to ask. It’s time to find out.”
HER PARENTS WERE INtheir room. By the noises, they were searching through papers and drawers and hissing at each other.
Wait. Sophie swallowed. She could hear tiny whispers and mumbled half-aloud thoughts. Why hadn’t she ever heard her parents talking? Or had she, and thought they were speaking at normal volume? Did she tune them out?
Perched on the arm of the sofa, she leaned forward, her hands pressed tightly between her knees, eyes closed in concentration.
Blurry at first, and then sharp and clear, she could hear her mother’s voice, “The only birth certificate is ours. We don’t have names for her to look up!”
“We can do the best we can— found it! Here’s the placement agreement.”
“There’s the emergency home study.”
“Final placement. There.”
“What should we show her?”
“Take the whole file.” Her father’s voice was heavy with resignation.
“Sam— what if she wants to leave us? I can’t live without my baby girl. She’smybaby.”
Sophie’s eyes flew open, tears escaping to match her mother’s. “Of course I am! I’ll always be yours, no matter what!”
Her mother’s head popped around the door, faintly surprised. “You heard that, huh?”
“You have a voice that carries, Mom.” Sophie smirked, leaving it at that.
“Well. Here are the papers from your adoption. It was quite a process. All adoptions are,” her father laughed nervously.
Sophie eagerly looked over the papers presented to her. Her parents watched, occasionally drawing her attention to this date or that fact. One name they didn’t specifically point out caught her eye. Officer Darrell Watkins.
“Uncle Darrell... Mom, Dad, you never told me Uncle Darrell had anything to do with this. Wait, why were the police involved?” Sophie’s stomach, which had been tense, suddenly rubberized, flipping and bouncing inside her.
“If you look at the initial placement report—” her mother began, but Sophie didn’t let her continue.
“I don’t want to read about it. I want to hear about it from you.” Sophie put the paper down firmly.
For a moment, her parents had a battle of silent eyes, but her mother won it, beginning to talk in her gentle, lilting voice. “When we first got married, we wanted a family. Both of us. It turned out that I couldn't have a baby. We were saving up for an adoption, but there were so many laws and requirements, especially for us. Your father was still a resident alien, not a full citizen. Then, there was our income. Most agencies said we didn’t make enough. Some had other requirements, too, like how long we’d been married. Some said we had to be married for five years, some said seven. I felt so... empty.”
“Hopeless,” her father intoned, face grave. “She blamed herself. It wasn’t her fault. It was those damn soldiers, the ones who blew up her town, running everyone out, leaving bits of shrapnel in your side until you could get it treated... Infection and scar tissue are not your fault, Ali. It’s your war wound and I love my lioness for it.”
Sophie’s eyes overflowed and she squeezed herself into her mother’s lap, even though her legs dangled over hers, comically long. “I’m sorry that happened, Mom. I’m so glad I have you, that you have me. I wouldn’t want anyone else. You guys are my heroes, do you know that?” Sophie whispered, winding her arms around both necks.
“That’s right. She’s a hero, your mother. Do you know what she did when they told her our annual income wasn’t enough? She started working nights at the station with me. Back then she’d work until four at the nursing home, come home, sleep for five hours, get up and cook, and we’d walk to the metro stop together. We worked the overnight shift together from eleven at night until seven in the morning.”
“Ah— and your father, he stayed on until 11:30 the next day, then he’d come home and shower and do the laundry, pack our lunches, study for his diesel technician courses, and fall asleepBut he always woke up to give me a kiss when I crawled in beside him after my day job.”
“You guys are adorable. You’re all my relationship goals — oh. Okay. No kissing in the middle of the story!” Sophie extricated herself quickly from her parents. While she was mildly embarrassed by the display of affection they were sharing now, she’d been so moved to hear the pride in their voices as they spoke about one another. “Mom! Daddy! Come up for air, guys! You guys worked double shifts to pay for my adoption. Pick up from there.”
Slowly pulling apart, her mother blushed and fluffed her hair. Her father coughed and shrugged. “Darrell worked the night shift, patrolling the station. We saw hundreds of crazy things on the night shift, and we always helped each other out. If someone got mouthy with me, Darrell was suddenly there with his big deep voice and big bald head, all ‘Is there a reason you’re interrupting this fine member of our transportation team?’ If there was a chase going through the station Darrell would yell out that he was in pursuit and for everyone to get out of the way. I never did. I used to swing my bucket and mop right in the way. Can’t tell you how many perps he handed over to a squad car with wet pants.”
“They thought they were hot stuff, your father and Darrell,” her mother whispered with a wink.
“You could have had your own show,” Sophie chuckled back, starting to relax a little. She had often heard these stories, but she’d never known they might have a connection to her adoption. “What happened next?”
