Page 41 of Deep Blue Lies
“Alright.” Sophia bites her lower lip, still staring at me. “So what are you doing up here?”
It takes me a moment to answer this, I’m not sure what she means, like – is this a place for locals only?
“I was just walking.”
“Why?”
Why? And like a punch to the stomach, the directness of her questions just floors me. I don’t have an answer. Why am I here? Because my legs took me here. Because my motherisn’tmy mother. Because I’m so thirsty. Suddenly it registers Sophia must live here. In the house we’re standing outside of. It has a pretty porch with purple flowers growing up around. They must need water. They musthavewater.
“I’m adopted,” I hear myself say, out loud, before I have a chance to stop myself saying it.
“What?”
“I’m adopted. I just found out I’m adopted,” I say again, and I stare at her now, horrified at the phrase I’ve just uttered. But after a few moments of looking confused, she actually smiles.
“I’m adopted too.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I’ve always known – well, not always, but for as long as I remember. My mother – not my real mother, obviously – but I’ve always called hermamá, she never hid it from me though. Her and my father said it didn’t matter, we were still a perfect family…” She stops talking and bites her lip again.
“Hey, I’m sorry. You’ve just found out, right? That must be a shock. Do you want a drink, some water or something?”
Dumbly I nod my head. I don’t know how she knows, but I don’t care. I think I might die if I don’t drink something. I follow her like a puppy through her gate, and into a small garden, where she parks the moped properly and sits me down at a table in theshade. She pulls open a French door and disappears inside, before coming back with a tall glass of water and a pretty jug with more. I take the glass and put it down empty.
“Wow. You want more?”
I nod. She refills it, and I empty it once more.
“More?” Her voice is edged with fun. She’s enjoying this. She seems able to enjoy anything.
I shake my head now. I feel so foolish, sitting here. Being like this.
“Is this where you live?”
“Yeah.” Sophia glances around, as if noticing for the first time, but then her interest comes back to me. “Yeah, I grew up here.” She hesitates a moment. “Well, here and the supermarket. That’s where my mother works.”
It takes me a moment to understand this, to make the connection. But there’s something about them both. “Maria, the lady from the shop? That’s…?”
Sophia laughs. “Yeah. That’s her.”
“What about your dad? Your adopted dad?”
“He was a programmer, computers. Stuff like that.” There’s a new note to her voice, a brittleness. “He died a couple years ago.”
I don’t say anything at first, but I blink at her.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” – she bites her lip – “pancreatic cancer, when I was nineteen.” She rolls her shoulders, like this is how life goes, but it still sucks.
“I’m really sorry.”
“It’s OK. I mean yeah, me andMamátoo, obviously. He was English by the way. Came out here to work, met my mother and stayed. That’s how I speak OK English, it’s what we spoke at home. But you don’t need to hear about me. Let’s talk about you. I guess you found something out?”
I don’t actually know if I want to tell her, or if I need to tell her. But I find I’m already speaking before I wonder if it’s a good idea to share.
“I was reading my mum’s diary, from when she was here, twenty-two years ago. I was hoping it might tell me who my dad was, by working back from when I was born, and seeing who she was…sleeping with.”
