17 Sophie
Sophie
Sophie watches the sunshine pour through the front windows of Aspect Coffee.
The tables are worn and from another decade, and the decor is still the same, only somehow grayer.
She remembers the small faded painting of the general store that still hangs above the napkins from way back when Barbara owned the coffee shop.
The walls are streaked white, a slapdash paint job barely hiding the homey peach color they used to be.
It’s all just a little depressing, and Sophie’s reminded again that Joey does not seem to be at her best.
Sophie’s plan today is to supply Joey with resources.
She spent the morning trying to forget about Quinn’s haunting blank journal by compiling a list of links and medical articles about PTSD.
She even reached out to a grief counselor on Joey’s behalf.
It feels important to help, but she must play it carefully so Joey doesn’t react badly.
The bell above the door clatters as Elena comes in. Her white pants and Panama hat make her look put together, but the bruised half-moons under her eyes show an obvious lack of sleep.
Joey texted this morning saying she had something to run by them.
Immediately, Sophie texted Elena separately to make sure she was planning on coming.
It’s important to be here so she can, gently, tell Joey that what she heard in the woods may have been unprocessed grief and to have Elena here as extra support.
“The place looks great,” Sophie says to Joey as they approach the counter. She isn’t sure why she lies, but probably because she hopes to cheer her up a bit.
Elena is dubious. “Can you do an Americano?”
Joey glares at her, and Sophie goes full-on cheerful to try to combat the tension, ordering a chai latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon.
“Anything to eat?”
They survey the baked goods counter. A couple of flat things that look like they could be croissants.
A pale tart with what could be cream cheese in the center.
A muffin wrapped in plastic. Next to her, Elena says she’s good.
Sophie is also unimpressed, but she masks it beneath a pert, “Whatever you recommend.”
They wait at a table by the window. Sophie sips her chai and watches Elena. “So…” she says. “Gael.”
Elena tips her own cup up to her lips, peering into the depths of her espresso as she does, then sets it down again. She looks like she’s about to say something but then checks herself.
Sophie puts her mug down carefully. “You seem to be doing a great job. He’s a sweet kid. Truly.”
“We manage,” Elena says at last, pressing out a smile.
“He’s, how old, fourteen?”
Elena nods without making eye contact.
“Hm,” says Sophie. “Did you have help? I mean, is his dad still in the picture or…”
Elena buries her face in her drink again. “His dad was no one special. And no, not in the picture.”
“But you must have been so young when you had him. How did you make it work? Did your mom help?” Sophie remembers Elena’s mom.
Her dad died when she was six years old, and after that, eventually, her mother transformed into a closed-minded, sometimes violent religious zealot.
But bless her, Elena still snuck out, smoked, drank, and fooled around with half the school.
And when she got caught, she took the punishment and then was back at it again the next night.
“Are you kidding?” Elena laughs. “That bitch did nothing. I relied on neighbors and friends. I even dragged him along to work with me a bunch in the early days. And somehow, he turned out okay. No idea how that happened. But what about you? You’re a mom now. How’s that going?”
“Great,” says Sophie, and warmth fills her when she thinks of her family.
“Leah is eighteen months. To be honest, the postpartum really knocked me out for a while. Talia was worried, but I upped my therapy sessions to twice weekly, and it helped a little. You know, during that time of my life, I used to imagine seeing you or Joey…or even Quinn sometimes, when I was out running errands. It used to make me so sad. I was not well. I thought being back here would be triggering, but it’s honestly not that bad.
” She wants to say something about the journal she found in the closet, but the thought of speaking about it out loud it makes her nervous.
Elena looks winded by Sophie’s complete mental health history anyway, so she decides to bring it up at a better moment.
The bell above the door jingles.
A woman Sophie recognizes appears in the doorway with her hands on her lower back.
Marissa Berg wears a navy blue uniform and a gun at her hip and—unexpectedly—a pregnant belly that protrudes over her pants.
It’s jarring to see Marissa again. She was always trying to include herself when they were young.
Of course they couldn’t include her in the magic, since she wasn’t initiated, but Sophie sometimes said yes when Marissa invited herself to hang out with them after school.
Elena, Joey, and Quinn didn’t get it. They said she was a hanger-on.
Elena called her a self-important bitch.
But Sophie felt bad that the four of them were, by default, exclusive.
She didn’t like the idea of someone clawing at the outside trying to get in.
More importantly, though, she was highly allergic to the word no. Still is.
“Marissa, hi. How are you?” Sophie says as Marissa spots them. Her eyelids peel open in shock as she strides over.
“Sophie Stringer and Elena Alvarez, both of you? My gosh, what on earth are you doing here?” Marissa’s greeting comes across as a bit saccharine. She leans into Sophie for a one-armed hug.
“Marissa, wow. You look great,” Elena says, completely monotone.
Marissa beams and runs her hands over her baby bump. “Six months next Tuesday,” she says.
“Do you still live here?” asks Sophie, eyeing the uniform.
Marissa laughs. “Are you kidding? I could never leave. We’re down at Sixth and Pine. But what on earth are you doing here?” Marissa looks between them, waiting.
“We’re just visiting,” Sophie says.
At this, she clocks a prolonged look from Marissa that she can’t quite read. “I thought maybe it was because of Quinn. Maybe Joey finally got a break in her case.” She says this with a not-so-subtle mocking tone, as if Joey is going around town calling herself Carmen Sandiego.
Sophie bristles inwardly.
Elena says, “Nope,” with emphasis. Sophie’s surprised to hear her speaking up for Joey.
“It’s the fifteen-year anniversary of her death, isn’t it?” Marissa picks an invisible fuzz off her shirt.
“Monday was.”
Marissa nods. “Right… So is that why you’re in town?”
Sophie makes a noncommittal noise. She wonders why Marissa’s presence makes her so uncomfortable.
Joey walks over then, looking tired and bunching up a filthy black apron. “Done for the day,” she says. “Zach’s not happy, but I promised him overtime pay I can’t afford.” She looks around with the air of clearing her mind. “You guys ready?”
She’s speaking to Elena and Sophie; that’s perfectly obvious, but Marissa doesn’t seem to read the room. She checks her watch. “I have to be back in…half an hour,” she says. “That’s enough time for a quick cup of something.”
Joey squints at her and gives her the approximation of a smile.
There’s a moment of quiet, and Sophie feels things start to tip.
She has an old familiar feeling that, in just a moment, when it becomes unbearable, she won’t be able to let the silence grow any longer.
She will have to jump in and invite Marissa to hang out.
She can almost hear herself saying it. “Sure, let’s all get a fresh coffee and catch up. ”
Before she can, thankfully, Joey jumps in. “Wish we could, but we are on our way out for a hike.”
Marissa is skeptical. “Are you?”
“Are we?” asks Sophie. Elena looks up in surprise.
“We are.” Joey says it with certainty as she faces down Marissa. “Next time?”
“Shoot,” says Marissa, running her hand over her belly again, as if the act might somehow change Joey’s mind.
When she gets no response, she says, “Well, I do want to catch up with you all at some point. Call me if you end up doing brunch or something. Joey, you have my number.” And she leaves them to approach the counter and order a to-go skinny latte—“Make it a decaf!”
She’s all smiles, and yet as she makes her way to the door, she turns toward Sophie.
Her eyes linger for a few seconds, her expression unreadable, until Sophie feels a flush of embarrassment rise in her.
And then the moment is gone, and so is Marissa, and Sophie is left with the bizarre feeling that she’s been caught out for something, though she has no idea for what.
***
Minutes later, they are outside, hiking the familiar old trail that leads to the spell circle.
Sophie follows Joey and Elena over the lattice of downed logs.
When her shoes sink into the soft dirt on the other side, it’s at once familiar and satisfying.
A text hums from the depths of her bag. She rifles through receipts and pacifiers and tissue packets to pluck it free.
A message from Talia. Leah has a fever.
Sophie worries at the drawstring of her hoodie.
Talia’s never done sick-kid parenting on her own.
Sophie is the one who administers Tylenol and who takes temperatures, even in the middle of the night.
Sophie is the one who lies awake, fearing that the sleep sack is too hot, that the room is too cold, or that she will miss some hidden danger should her eyes close.
Now, an image starts to come through. It takes a second to load, and Sophie is tense with anticipation. It’s Leah. Her cheeks are red, her eyes wet-rimmed, and she clutches her favorite elephant blankie. Another message from Talia. My mom is here to help. Just call us later. Love you.