THE SINS OF YOUR FATHER OR SOMETHING TOGGLE DARK MODE BACK TO NEXUS Sophie got her hands on rum for the first time two days into helping Jenny move into her new apartment- twenty years old, half a year into community college. Could’ve been worse times to start. She had been reaching into a box labeled ‘PANTRY’, grabbed at a thing of bubble wrap and tape, and set it down on the too-large table that Jenny’s parents had gotten for her with a glass clink. Didn’t spare the bottle a single thought until the two took a break from putting away spices and barbeque rubs that Jenny was sure she would never use to look over the cluttered table. Jenny’s parents had moved across the country two weeks before, and she was responsible for clearing out whatever they didn’t take from their storage unit and closing it out. Meant she had a bunch of shit she had no clue what to do with, far too much for her, the two bedroom apartment, and some roommate from college who was too busy to help move into their own apartment to have any use for. Seemed that included a bottle of spiced rum which Jenny grabbed at with a grin when she noticed it set upon the table, waving it in Sophie’s face. “Oh shit , Soph, you see this?” Another rattle side-to-side, “They left us the good stuff.” It was the brightest her voice had been the entire day, breaking through that tired-and-lonely drone it had fallen into, so Sophie smiled and nodded along. Hadn’t ever drunk alcohol before, felt something in her stomach twist at the sight of the bottle, but Jenny was smiling and following along with whatever Jenny did was the safest way to navigate life. After getting the pantry stuffed full of expired spices and stained tupperwares and a single meat grinder which Sophie had no clue what Jenny could possibly use for, Jenny called for a break. Grabbed some water bottles, swiped up the rum, and settled down on one of two chairs in the box-filled living room. Waved Sophie over, handed her a bottle before twisting off the cap of her own. A moment of quiet between the two- the quiet that had drawn Sophie to the other woman in the first place. There were no expectations in her idle glance Sophie’s way, no need to force conversation when silence was just as nice. Just a well needed breather after two days of moving. Jenny finished off her bottle, tossed it towards the open trash can and missed, then spun off the cap of the rum with one practiced motion. Held it up to her nose and breathed in deep, the sigh she let out exaggerated enough to get Sophie to huff out a laugh. “Can’t believe they left us this- you think they forgot about it entirely?” Sophie nodded, hummed in agreement. “Yeah, probably.” Jenny took a quick pull from the bottle, and something- something about the ease in which it went down, the way she didn’t pull a face at the taste Sophie had always heard was awful and biting and gross, something about it made the pit of her stomach drop. Like she was watching something familiar yet not, something that she should know was bad. Something like that. “Well, it's not bad or anything. Oxidized alcohol is gross .” Sophie took a sip from her water bottle, fought back the surging anxiety-without-cause, and then held out a hand. Gestured for Jenny to hand the rum over. “Let me try some.” Jenny was drinking, so the proper thing to do would be drink as well. Jenny had gotten Sophie through some rough times without ever knowing it, providing example of what a normal person would do in situations that she just had to emulate. Just follow along in the steps, ignore the distance which seemed to stretch out between everyone and everything- a distance that felt alien in and of itself, a distance which had been there as long as Sophie could remember, just as the restless energy that had her leg constantly bouncing and her hands fluttering up close to her head before she could stomp down on the strange, weird motions. The bottle was a cool weight in her hand when Jenny handed it over. Just a weight and nothing else. There was no buried familiarity there, as there had been when she watched Jenny drink, so Sophie bit the bullet and tipped the bottle up to take a swig. It tasted like shit. Like nothing but an overwhelming warmth which crouched in her throat-and-mouth, a low start burning that just built up more and more, only the barest undernote of some citrus that just made the whole experience that much more awful. Sophie hated oranges. But there was something there. Something in the warmth, something in the mind which demanded that she fulfill that godawful curiosity by having another drink, just enough to feel whatever had people chasing after the bottle, chasing and chasing until they ruined everything and everyone- not that she knew anyone who had done that. She didn’t, but as she forced down that second mouthful, it felt like she did. Someone who she should’ve been able to understand just a bit better after her first drink. “‘S gross.” Sophie mumbled out, getting a laugh from Jenny when she refused to hand back the bottle to an offered hand. “No, hold on. I want to see what the fuss is about.” “Alright, alright.” Jenny leaned back into her chair and then strained her arm as far as it could go to reach for another water bottle from the case on the ground. Grabbed one, started drinking from it. “You’ve never drunk before, right? I think you said something like that once.” “Yeah.” Sophie was on solid chug number four, the point where she decided she had enough and capped it once more before setting it between her feet, near touching the tips of her boots that her foster mom had gotten her two weeks ago. They were good boots, solid and heavy, and they would clunk in just the right way when Sophie walked, the way that had her stomping around everywhere just to hear it and feel it. “Emily,” Her foster mom- Sophie liked her, but not enough to go anywhere but a first name basis, “didn’t keep anything around the house and I wasn’t popular enough at school to buy anything. Didn’t really care to know what it was like, anyways.” “You’re telling me you never got wasted in highschool?” Jenny smiled, shook her head. “Can’t believe I’m friends with someone so lame- I couldn’t tell you how many parties I crashed back in my day. A real wild child, you know?” Sophie smiled at that, because she knew Jenny was bullshitting her. Didn’t feel any sharp sting at the ribbing, no urge to pull away and isolate at any imagined slight. Jenny had told her she was the lamest person out there in high school, someone who kept her head down and reminded teachers of homework when it looked like they had forgotten to collect it. “Sure, Jenny.” She took another pull from her water to wash down the taste at the back of her throat, then leaned back to rest her head on the wall behind her. Closed her eyes, just listened to the sound of their breathing in the cluttered room that was supposed to become a home. ( They sat there together, in the quiet without expectation, and Sophie absently wished that it was her who was moving in with Jenny. That there was no roommate who she couldn’t remember the name of- Susie or Mary or Kate, something short and sweet- that it was just her and Jenny and a cozy apartment. She would’ve liked that. Living with someone who never stared at her hands when they started butterfly-fluttering around and always smiled when she saw her. Someone who made Sophie feel like somebody , somebody who had meaning in the world. Sure, she was appreciative of Emily and Charles- her foster father, who had taken a very thoroughly hands-off approach to the entire foster child experience- and glad that they were still putting up with her four years after she first walked in their house, let her stay with them even when she was edging close to twenty one and still without direction in her life. She just- Sophie wanted Jenny. She wanted her familiarity, her jokes, that sense of safety that seemed to hover around her at all times. The ugly sweaters and chipped nail polish, movie posters tacked up on her bedroom walls that could start hour long conversations in a moment. She wanted that. ) Eventually, Jenny broke the silence with a loud groan. “We have to unpack the plates and shit still. The, um- the cutlery. Knives.” She closed her eyes for a moment, twisted her face up into an exaggerated look of pain. “I don’t think we have a knife block, Sophie. Where the hell are we putting the knives?” Sophie laughed- Jenny did that a lot, playing everything up to the extreme, and she would always light up when that got something from Sophie. Looked like the sun had just broken through week-long cloud coverage. “I don’t think that’s going to be a big problem, Jenny. I’m sure there’s a knife block somewhere in the boxes. Maybe- maybe Kate has one.” Jenny gave her a look at that, one of raised eyebrows and suppressed smiles. “You mean Joan?” “Yeah, her.” That got a laugh out of Jenny, loud and bright, before she hauled herself back up to her feet. “Ugh, I already know she won’t. Whatever. I’m sure you’re right, that there’s something here already. Don’t even have to worry about it.” A hand held out to Sophie, another smile. “Come on, we should get started on it so we’re done before dark.” There wasn’t a knife block in any of the boxes. They ended up, at Sophie’s suggestion, dumping them bare into a drawer and on top of a hand towel- she joked, there, that they’d just have to be careful with any midnight cooking. The unpacking went slowly, broken up many times to look over something odd that Jenny had been left by her parents as it had before, and the entire world shimmered before Sophie’s eyes. Floated and ebbed like the tide, and she felt warm. Smiling was easier, and her hands were fat-fingered, clumsy things. It took her accidentally bumping into a wall while walking into the kitchen with an armful of plates and the sudden panic where she thought she was about to drop them all- the drop of her stomach and the sudden clamminess of her palms washing away that haze for a moment, just a moment- to realize what the culprit must’ve been. She was drunk. She was drunk and she was genuinely having fun, where she could joke with Jenny without any nipping anxiety and was bold enough to smile at her when she wasn’t looking. It was an odd experience. They unpacked boxes, did as much kitchen organizing as they could when they had far too many spice bottles and far too few spice racks , and Sophie never wanted it to end. Wanted to stay suspended in that honey-gold bubble where the air was the same color as the rum she had downed. To bask in the simple wonder that came with the sudden, profound realization that Jenny was her friend- it came up quick, when Sophie had gone to the bathroom and settled into a stare at the mirror. Fiddled with her bangs with one hand, shook the other a few times near her chest, and realized that the person standing in front of her was her, and that she had a friend. A real good one, one who cared about her and listened to her. She wouldn’t call what rushed up then love - but then again, Sophie had an aversion to calling anything love. She would settle on saying it was an incredible fondness realized there, in Jenny’s new bathroom where the light flickered once every few seconds and the mirror already needed wiping down. The sun began to set and Jenny called an end to the whole ordeal. Settled down on the floor with her back to a wall- they’d gotten the kitchen table and chairs set up, lugged them up the stairs and cringed over every knick that got scored into the wood, but the floor was more comfortable in the moment. Let them huddle up close to each other, shoulders nearly brushing and legs close enough to feel the warmth of each other, and Jenny brought out the rum. Took a few swigs of her own, then grabbed the bottle back after Sophie had only managed two. Tilted her head back so she was looking more towards the ceiling than anywhere else, then gave Sophie a sidelong glance, such warmth in that corner-eyed look that Sophie almost shied away from it. Almost, but not quite, and she smiled when Jenny spoke- before she really understood the words, her lips were peeling back into that simple, friendly smile. “Hey. I appreciate you doing this. Like, helping out and everything. Really.” “It's nothing. Happy to help.” Sophie leaned back herself, until her head thunked on the wall, and mirrored the not-quite-looking pose that Jenny had going on. Brought her hands up near her chest to tug at the fingers and pop the knuckles- sometimes a nervous gesture, but there it was just so she was doing something . “Sophie.” Jenny turned to fully look at her, even tilted her foot enough to knock her ratty sneaker against Sophie’s boot. “I’m being serious. It means a lot to me, you coming out here and doing this. It isn’t nothing , you know? It's a lot. You’re a good friend.” It took her a moment to find a response to that. Sophie smiled, tilted her head Jenny’s way but still kept her eyes on the ceiling. Put one hand down on the ground, right between them. “Yeah.” A pause. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, Jenny. I’m glad you wanted me to. You’re a good friend too.” Quiet again. Jenny went back to her ceiling watching as well, content to share the space and the silence, and rested one of her own hands down on the ground next to Sophie’s. Close enough that the fingers were brushing and Jenny’s was pressed up awkwardly against her leg, but Sophie did not feel the urge to pull back and accommodate the motion, give the other her space and shy away. She smiled up at the ceiling, then risked a look Jenny’s way. Saw the same smile, upwards just like hers had been, then looked away again. Breathed around the trilling joy in her throat, worked to commit the moment to a memory that so often failed her. When the sun was low enough to shine right through the windows and directly into Sophie’s eyes, she suddenly found the urge to speak up- she didn’t know about what , not until the words were already out of her mouth, but she realized that this easy, normal feeling was not infinite. That it was the rum beating back the anxiety, and Sophie did not want to spend it all on quiet- not waste, because no moment with Jenny was wasted, but- but it was difficult to explain. The restlessness that suddenly reared its head and had Sophie speaking out into the dimming room, still not looking Jenny’s way. “I don’t remember if my parents ever drank.” That got Jenny’s attention. She shifted up from the slow slump she’d been falling to, looked directly at Sophie- Sophie hadn’t moved her eyes from the crack where wall met ceiling, but she could hear the shift of cloth and feel eyes upon her face. She didn’t speak though, not yet, so Sophie pressed on. “I know that they were well respected people here. That I could probably find someone who could tell me, like a- a family friend, or something. But that would feel wrong. I should be able to remember them myself.” Sophie cast a line into the fog of her mind, baited with a desperation she had long become familiar with. Fished up nothing but two names. No faces, no memories, just names she had only ever seen written on paper. “I don’t… know who they were. Jack and Rosemary. I don’t remember if they drank, or why I got nervous when I saw you drinking.” Jenny waited out the two half-sentences that Sophie got out after that quiet admission, where they were more stuttered syllables than actual words, then slowly, slowly moved her hand until it was atop of Sophie’s own- that had gotten a little shiver from her, but she still kept her eyes away. “That’s… rough.” Jenny used the same tone that she always had when Sophie found the courage to talk about- about the gray fog her childhood was. Nothing but things other people had told her filling in the gaps, a number of things written down on paper, and Sophie suddenly felt terrible for even opening her mouth in the first place. There had been something good between them for a moment, nice and quiet and comfortable, and she just had to go and ruin it by bringing that up. “I’m sorry. I can’t- I can’t imagine how that feels- Oh shit.” The sudden, stricken tone had Sophie jerking her head Jenny’s way, wide eyes meeting her startled look. “Huh?” No response, but the fingers atop of her hand clenched a little. Sophie felt like she was going to throw up in an instant. Felt like she was going to die. “Jenny, what? What is it?” She ignored the way her voice pitched up, the urge to grab at the other’s shoulders. “Jenny?” “Your pills. Does alcohol mess with them?” Oh. Sophie almost choked on the relieved breath she let out. Oh . She had thought- she didn’t know what she had thought. That she had ruined everything in a single instant, that opening up just that tiny bit had made Jenny suddenly realize she hated Sophie’s guts or something. Something completely out there and irrational, that should’ve been funny but just made her feel sick. “My pills, um-” She blinked, glanced up at the ceiling as she thought. Had gotten a long list of warnings when they’d first been prescribed, a list that jumbled up in her head and kept on getting mixed around before Sophie finally gave up and went to Emily for help understanding it, but that didn’t matter because- “I didn’t take them today. I forgot.” “ Jesus .” Jenny breathed out. She tilted her head back again, but there was too much force behind the move. A solid clunk when it hit the wall, a little wince hidden behind the way she clenched her eyes shut. Took in a deep breath, sighed it out. “Jesus, Sophie. I’m sorry.” “What? Why?” “I didn’t think- I just let you drink without even thinking of that, I completely blanked on any sort of risk- I’m supposed to be the responsible one here, I’m supposed to-” Jenny bit off her words with a grimace. Grabbed at Sophie’s hand with more force than before, as if she needed to reassure herself the other was still sat there next to her. “I’m sorry. You’re my friend, I’m supposed to look out for you. Not possibly get you- I don’t know, killed or something.” “I think that’s an over exaggeration, Jenny.” Sophie answered back, voice flat for all of her confusion. “Like, I don’t think it would’ve been that severe.” It was- it was nice, almost, to see on clear display how much Jenny cared about her. Even if Sophie felt awful seeing her so distressed, realizing that she hadn’t thought of any side effects either. Sophie’d been careless, just like she always was, and Jenny was blaming herself. That wasn’t right. She reached out with her other hand, patted it down on top of Jenny’s so that they had an awkward, sweaty three-handed tower in between them. It was the most comforting thing in the world to Sophie. “It's okay.” “No, it wasn’t.” Jenny stated simply, but her eyes were open again and she was looking down at the hands. Even let her lips twitch upwards after a moment, letting out an incredulous huff of laughter. “Sorry. I’m sorry, for not thinking and then for freaking out afterwards. Totally embarrassing.” “‘Sokay, Jenny. Really.” Sophie patted her hand, sought out a second of eye contact- she still looked away after a moment, but it was easier with Jenny than it was with anyone else. She tried for a bit of humor next. “I mean, there’s less frightening ways to get out of personal conversations about emotions or whatever, but I don’t blame you. I’d freak out too if you suddenly started unloading all that baggage on me.” Jenny laughed louder at that. “Oh my god, Sophie, we’ve had this conversation, like, a million times. Chill out. You don’t have to- you can talk about anything you want to with me. As little or as much as you want.” She reached out with her free hand to poke at the back of Sophie’s before pulling back to brush some hair back behind an ear. “Really.” “I know. I know, it's just- I don’t know. Embarrassing, I guess.” The calm seeped back into the air, and Sophie distantly realized that she ought to be pulling away. Settling back into that almost-but-not thing they had going on before so everything went back to normal, but she didn’t want to. Sweaty and childish as it was, she couldn’t let go of the feeling of Jenny’s hand held between both of her own. Didn’t want to, either. “I get what you’re saying.” Jenny shifted her weight a little, finally returned back to her casual slump against the wall. Closed her eyes again, that time with no pain or frustration behind it, but then suddenly opened them back up. Gave Sophie a little look, from the corner of her eye, and smiled. Her voice was softer when she spoke that time, like she was sharing a secret. “You wanna know something, though?” It was hard to not mimic Jenny’s sudden shift in tone. Sophie almost leaned in closer, just to complete it. “What?” “Just my two cents, but I think they were good parents. Jack and Rosemary. I know- I know you don’t remember a lot of things from your childhood, but the way you were raised still affects you. Like, even if I forgot the specific times my pa did his best to help me with math, I still remember the little tricks he taught me. The way they treated you and the things they told you, those made you you , Sophie. And you’re a good friend. A good person. Like- you care about people.” Jenny blinked, looked away for just a moment. “And like, we could get into a whole debate over this. Nature versus nurture, you know? But I think they were good people, and good parents. That they did their best to do right by you.” Jenny squeezed at Sophie’s hand, the one at the bottom of the tower. “I don’t think they drank, Sophie. At least not around you, and not enough that you get nervous over it even now. I think- I don’t know, that must’ve been something else. But not them.” It was the most Jenny had ever acknowledged the forbidden, secret subject that was Sophie’s childhood and parents in one, and there was a care in her eyes when she spoke those words that made Sophie certain, beyond a doubt, that Jenny meant every single word. That they weren’t just to put her at ease- Jenny really did believe what she was saying, and Sophie trusted her enough to believe it as well. Trusted her enough to smile, soft and almost-sad, and lean in close enough that their shoulders were brushing. “Thanks. I- I think so too.” If Sophie was braver, she would’ve leaned her head down on Jenny’s shoulder. Maybe even glanced up at her and kept up that same smile, gathered up the courage to tell her that she wished it was just the two of them. That it was Sophie moving in with her, not some Joan that she’d never met, and that she felt safe with her. Safer than anyone else. Instead, they sat there, together and quiet, until the sun set. Jenny was the first to break contact, pulling her hand out from between both of Sophie’s own and letting out a theatrical groan when she pulled herself back up to her feet. Sophie’d already planned on spending the entire day and night helping out, and had even brought over a sleeping bag so she could camp out in the cluttered living room while Jenny retreated to her equally cluttered bedroom- the mattress had taken the better part of an hour to haul up the stairs and cram into the room and the frame was an entirely different beast which neither had tackled, but they’d already talked it out. Their goodnights were quick and friendly, and then Jenny retreated to change. Sophie had blanked on a change of clothes- she unlaced her boots and propped them up near the front door, folded her jacket over the back of a kitchen chair. Jenny walked back into the living room while Sophie was in the middle of unrolling her sleeping bag, a comforter trailing after her and a pillow hugged close to her body. Sophie almost spoke up, but then Jenny smiled at her. Friendly and soft, something that said I wanted to be with you without words. So they slept next to each other on the ground, on top of the ugly green carpet which smelled ever so faintly of cleaner still. There was a window close enough, just high enough, that Sophie could stare out of it and right into the night sky. Falling asleep like that, next to her best friend and watching the stars- it was just about the happiest moment in Sophie’s life. ** ( Sophie wouldn’t remember for years, but the moment she had thought her happiest before that night was when the butterfly cocoon that she and Ed had found on one of mama’s rosebushes cracked open. She was six years old and he was four, and they were best friends. Did everything together. There were even nights, after Sophie had started to learn how to read, that she would beg papa to let her read to Ed at bedtime. They’d huddle up together on his bed, buried in blankets and crowded by stuffed animals, and she would read through little books with cardboard pages with all the confidence in the world. She loved him so, so much, and she had known, sitting there and watching that delicate, blue butterfly slowly crawl out, that moment was the happiest in her entire life. It was a realization that was both incredibly mature and perfectly childish, and she had it while holding her little brother’s hand and watching a butterfly they’d been obsessing over for weeks at that point flutter off into the sky .) ** When Sophie woke up, she had one arm trapped under her stomach and the other trapped under Jenny’s own. It took a while, blinking in the barely-dawn light, to realize what that weight was, but it came to her eventually. She blinked, looked over to her right, and looked away the instant afterwards. Felt intrusive, to look at Jenny’s peaceful expression, with hair flopped over her face and cheek pillowed on her free hand. It felt like a crime when she carefully, slowly pulled her hand away. She had to go- a glance up at a clock propped up on the opposite wall confirmed the time- and Jenny already knew. Sophie just hoped she hadn’t forgotten, that she wouldn’t feel hurt when she woke up alone. She gathered her few things up as quietly as she could- rolled up the sleeping bag, slipped her bots back on, zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulder- and slipped out like a ghost. Locked the door behind her with the key that was meant for Jenny’s roommate- Jill? Jane?- and clunked her way down the stairs. Jenny had said she could hang onto it until they next saw each other, since her roommate wouldn’t be around for a few more days. Jenny had given an explanation for that, one Sophie couldn’t remember to save her life- but now, she needed it so she was sure nobody would come storming into the apartment while Jenny was asleep and run her through with a knife. ( Sophie didn’t quite remember it- more an echo of a memory than anything else- but she knew that there was a little bit when she was a kid that she thought her family had been killed by someone. It was- it was before they were all gone. Before her first foster family. She didn’t-quite-remember sitting on her parents’ bed, the bed with its dark green blanket and three pillows that were all little flat, and covering her face with both hands as she sobbed in terror after another nightmare of someone breaking into their home, holding a knife or an ax or a shovel, there to kill her and mama both. She didn’t-remember her shoulders trembling under the force of the fear, aching and screaming under mama’s arm draped over them. She remembered the other crying right there with her, though. The sound of it, not the look on her face- Sophie tried to remember her mother’s face, and all she got was the vague idea that she had bangs. Brown eyes, maybe? But she remembered what mama sounded like when she cried. ) There, at the curb outside of the apartment office and just like he had said he would be, idled Charles’ truck. Just like she had agreed with her foster parents- Jenny had picked her at their home the day before, and Charles was then picking her up on his way into work. It was a beat up thing, scratches in the paint and a dent in the front bumper. It was the truck Sophie had learned how to drive in, the one she got her license with, and the one which she drove into a drainage ditch just two weeks afterwards. That was a whole story- she had been sixteen then, and Charles had still been trying just as hard as his wife to make a connection with her. He asked her to drive on down to the next town over, find some hardware store that a friend of his worked at, and get him a replacement gasket. Sophie, at the time, thought it was a clear sign that he hated her- she didn’t even know what a gasket was, just that it was some weird metal thing awkwardly crammed into her cupholder. On reflection, she could recognize the entire situation as him trying to show her he trusted her by giving her that responsibility- not that it did anything for her in the moment. Just made her real nervous the entire drive until she accidentally knocked the gasket into the crack between center console and passenger seat, looked away from the road to try and fish it out, and drove straight into that drainage ditch. It was an hour walk to get back to Brighton and fifteen minutes more to find a payphone to ring her foster parents up. Charles had picked up the phone, listened to the entire situation with an unnerving sort of quiet, and then told her to come home. Sophie had seriously thought he was going to kill him for half of the walk back home. Three months into living with them and Charles was going to- to smack her over the head with a hammer or something. She had a problem with thinking people were going to kill her, that first year on her own. The second half, she thought she was going to have a heart attack and drop dead at his feet. That was what she had been thinking when she walked in through the front door and came face to face with him, and then Charles had told her that he had another friend coming by to pick them up- he ran a whole towing company, apparently, and was going to haul the truck out for them free of charge. So Sophie sat there, huddled right next to the front door and refusing to meet his eyes, until Charles’ friend came around and shuffled them all into his truck that was just as beat up and well-used as the one in the ditch. The entire ride, Charles didn’t snap at her. Didn’t demand she move out, find some other family to crash with and completely interrupt the lives of. He asked her what happened, then laughed when she breathed it out. Told her to keep her eyes on the road, then patted her on the shoulder. Watching Charles’ friend pull the truck out of the ditch was the only time Sophie had ever cried in front of her foster father. She didn’t understand why she cried, even four years later, but he hadn’t made a big deal of it. Just draped an arm around her shoulders- he didn’t ask if it was okay, or hesitate long enough that Sophie had time to pull away like Emily would, but he wasn’t rough about it- and stood next to her as they watched. He had driven both of them to the hardware store in the end, even got her some lame novelty magnet at the checkout. Sophie hadn’t gotten behind the wheel of any vehicle ever since, which was why she was sliding into the beat up truck’s passenger seat and mumbling out some vague, tired morning greeting to Charles. He answered her in kind- the way he was squinting in the just-rising sun and yawned into his fist made it clear he hadn’t gotten anymore of a chance to wake up than she did. A quiet question- “Everything go alright, Sophie?”- and a nod in response, and then they were off. Sophie leaned back in her seat, stared out the window, and tried to keep her eyes open. Gave him a sidelong glance- she didn’t dislike Charles, but there was something about him that put her on edge on occasion. It was- it was something there, something in his hands covered in little grease burns- he’d worked as a line cook once, apparently- something in the name. Sophie wondered if she’d ever known someone with the same name, someone that had been washed away in the fog just as everything else in her childhood had. That thought made her think of what Jenny had said, which made her think of Jack and Rosemary. The two strangers who were her parents. Another look Charles’ way. He and Emily had lived in Brighton for five years before Sophie had come around. Emily had told her that once. That meant they had been around when the Waltens had been a whole, happy family. Sophie took in a deep breath between clenched teeth, let it out in a quiet hiss. Charles must’ve heard it, with the quick glance he gave her way, but he looked back at the road right after. Gave Sophie her time until she had gotten the words all sorted out in her head. “Hey Charles?” Another look her way, a friendly enough smile- if a bit tired still. “Yeah, Soph?” That was another thing he did sometimes, though it happened a lot more when she was still new around the house. It was a silly nickname, but it didn’t make Sophie bristle. “Did you ever see my parents around? Like- around town?” She chewed at the inside of her cheek to keep from adding on too many words, to keep her mouth shut and just wait for an answer. It was a long shot, but Charles and Emily were the two people she was closest to, right behind Jenny. Charles blinked at the question. Gave her another look, longer that time. “Um- one or two times, I think? I’ll be honest, I saw your father’s employee lady ‘round more than either of your parents, Soph. The mechanic one.” Looked over to see the blank look on her face and frowned a little. “Sorry- Susan? Susan Woods, I think it was.” The name didn’t ring any bells. Still, Sophie kept her eyes fixed on him and tried for a hopeful smile. “Can you tell me about them? I know- I know you weren’t close, I just want-” Closure? More than just their names and the barest, most intangible little details? “-I don’t know. Something more than the fact that they were my parents. They’re not- not people in my mind.” She swallowed down the sharp breath that wanted to follow that. Pressed though. “They’re paper cut outs. I want something more than that.” “Yeah.” Charles sighed out. His eyes were back on the road, his mouth twisted up into a sad little frown there. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. How about I tell you when I get back from work? Maybe ask Emily if she’s got any stories of her own- she ran in their circles more than I did, you know? Think she was friends with Felix’s lady for a bit.” A sudden huff- it almost sounded like a laugh, the rarest sound Sophie’d ever heard from her foster father. “Um. Ex-lady now, I guess. Ex-wife.” Another name that didn’t mean anything to her. Still, Sophie hummed out an acknowledgement and turned to look out the front- they were getting close to home. “I’d really like that.” A moment. “Thanks, Charles.” “Sure thing, Soph.”