SOFIA SOL

All the Ciphers who live here, convene in the TV room and adjoining kitchen with afternoon sunlight pouring in from open windows, the smell of food hovering in the air, Melodi’s incredibly spicy tacos we can’t get enough of but abandoned as soon as the landline rang. From everywhere in the house and outside, we raced, plates abandoned, to hear what that phone call was about.

Tyler, Melodi’s oldest who lives at the Montana house with his wife, Inez, is here, too. And he’s just as somber as everyone.

When Celia’s in trouble, we are, too. There is no separation. Everyone goes down when one does.

“They want me to go to the station for questioning,” Celia tells us all.

Dad exhales. “I’ll go with you.”

“You weren’t there,” I argue. “I’ll go.”

“You’re too close to this.”

Mom holds my look. “You’ll do anything to protect her.”

“Exactly!”

Carmen backs me up. “Sofia being there will steady my Celia, Luna.”

“I know you feel that way, but Sofia Sol walking into a police station is like bringing lighter fluid to a burning forest. She can’t handle authority.”

“That’s bullshit, Mom!”

Her eyebrow cocks. “Case in point.”

Atlas offers a weirdly timed, “Soph, let’s go for a ride.”

Luke clears his throat, but it sounds more like a stifled, sarcastic laugh.

Honey Badger growls at them. “Neither of you gets the luxury of blowing off steam. Jett, take my boys with you. They’ll offer up testimony. I’m sure the police want it. How’re you gonna explain Soph not coming?”

“I’ll take her tomorrow, separate trip. Say she was sick. That way it’ll just be me and her.” Dad flicks a glance to me. “You’ll be a beast in a cage if they cart Celia away and you’re there. Can’t risk your temper. If you’re not protecting Celia, you’ll be fine.”

“You’re right but I don’t have to like it.”

“Never said you did.”

Celia takes a deep breath. “Let’s get it over with.”

Those standing in the way move to let them through.

I call out, “You guys!” Luke, Atlas and Ceels look back at me, waiting. “Just stick to what we agreed on. Keep it short. Exact. No room for inconsistency. Our stories have to match.” They nod and disappear together. My chest tightens as the rest of us listen to them go. It’s so quiet we can hear the front door click shut in the distance. A dozen chests exhale frustration, anger, and helplessness.

Sweet Carmen covers her face and bursts into tears. Tonk pulls her close to hush her crying, “Don’t worry, it won’t help.”

“Why couldn’t she have shot him in the leg? Why’d she have to kill him?”

“Crime of passion.”

Tonk Jr. defends his sister, stoically telling the room, “Celia did what she thought was best.”

Furious and defending my soul-sister, I laugh, “A crime? Are you kidding? Killing that pedophile was justice!!”

Melodi agrees, “This is not the first time we’ve killed someone who deserved it.”

Denita hushes her, “My kids are too young to hear this part of what we do.”

“Knowledge is power,” I say without apology, and all eyes shift again to me. It’s my Mom’s who I can’t look at. I might not say what I have to. So I focus on my best friend’s mother and make my case. “She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t jarred. She wasn’t confused. Celia’s hand was steady. And you know what else? She doesn’t need a damn shrink to get over it. She heard us down there, learned what happened to those children, and she stepped up. Took a man out who’s brought more pain to this world than we can even imagine. I understand why you think she’s frail and can’t handle cops questioning her, or if she has to go to trial, what then, right? I thought she was vulnerable, too. It’s her kindness that makes her seem that way. But we’ve all been selling her short, and I promised Celia I would never do that again. So let’s stop being so scared and trust that she can handle this! I need some air.” The screen door clatters as I inhale bright afternoon sunlight. Taking steps in rapid fire to ground level down the porch, I hear it slam again. Looking over my shoulder I groan because my mother is following me, her steps controlled.

“Mom, I don’t need a lecture right now.”

“Let’s take a walk to the garage.”

“Oh great, it’s going to get that loud?”

“Just walk.”

It’s more warehouse than garage, built years ago when Scratch was President of this house. Some of his hogs are still in it, covered in dust at the shadowy far end. The door is open, lights off. Mom hits a switch and rows of chrome wink hello.

This view I will never get tired of.

Mom and I are the only ones who ride Triumphs and not Harleys, and she walks to hers and touches the scarred saddlebags with thoughts playing across her beautiful, dark brown eyes. “Do you remember when you were little and Celia wanted to sleep in her own bed?”

I blink at her—her tone not anticipated. It’s the second time Mom has surprised me in two days. I hate being taken off guard.

“No, I don’t remember.”

“You were very young. And you adored her.”

“Still do.”

“I know,” Mom sighs, leaning on her bike and crossing her arms. “Celia was so self-contained, and your first breath was a fireball. I think her presence calmed you.”

“Still does.”

“Yes.” She pauses, staring off. “It does.”

“Did I get mad when she wanted to leave? Is that why you’re bringing this up now?”

“No, not mad. You were scared.”

I scoff, “No way.”

Mom smiles, then laughs. “Believe it or not, you’ve been scared before.”

Kicking the cement with the toe of my boot I think about what happened, weighing if I want to share something with her about it. “I was scared when I heard her cry for help in that house. Terrified me. Thought I was right this whole time that I’ve wanted her off the missions. Turns out I’m not always right.”

“You realized you underestimated her.”

“Yeah. But finish the story about when we were kids. What happened?”

Memories play out as Mom’s gaze drops. She’s quiet for a few seconds and then frowns. “You were determined to keep Celia in the same bed with you, two little girls cuddled up like puppies. But she’s almost three years older than you and one night she finally wanted to be in her own bed. I wasn’t sure how to handle it, honestly. I lost my mother when I was a girl, and before that…it wasn’t a normal relationship. Everything about motherhood was new to me. I watched the other Ciphers women, tried to learn, but I was stubborn to say the least.” Mom stares off, pausing. “But turns out I wasn’t the one to find a solution. Celia came up with one of her own. She had the idea to sleep in the opposite direction in her bed, where her feet were supposed to be. That way you could see her face more easily, because you liked to sleep on your back. And I watched you work it out together, two little girls finding their way. I said goodnight, or I love you, or something to that effect, and you wouldn’t take your eyes off Celia even as you answered me. It was the sweetest thing, Sofia.” She meets my eyes. “I knew in my heart then that she was meant to be here, and you were meant to love her. She calms you a little. Not much, but it’s enough. God knows I don’t have that effect on you.”

I smile, “We don’t calm each other at all, Mom.”

“That’s why I’ve been so worried for you since this happened. I know you’re hiding the fact that you’re scared again, of losing her.”

I blink and try to hold it together. Nothing truer has ever been said to me. “What if they charge her with murder? What if she has to go to jail?”

“We have to wait and see, but I don’t think a jury would convict her, do you?”

“How could they?”

“You know what they do to pedophiles in prison, right?”

“They kill them. We all know that.”

“The jurors have children, or nieces and nephews, and I have to believe they will be on her side. We’ve got the money for lawyers. Even though you can’t tell it from the condition of our house,” Mom glances to the beaten-up plantation we keep that way in honor of the time when it was used for terrible things, long before the Ciphers took over the mortgage. “We have plenty, even with all the groceries we buy.”

“And we don’t do a lot of clothes shopping, that’s for sure.”

Mom slides a loving hand down her gas tank. “We all like to wear what we wear. The latest fashions don’t matter.”

“Give me some jeans and my tank tops,” I hit my heel against the pavement, “plus these boots, and I’m happy. But why did you say, She was meant to be here?”

There’s a look people get when they realize they’ve said something they shouldn’t have. “She was meant to be born here, that’s all I mean.”

“And I wasn’t?”

“You were.”

“It’s just an odd way to put it.”

“You’re reading too much into it.” Sighing, Mom runs a hand through her long hair, the silver streaks glittering under the bright lights we use to repair bikes. “Just because you’re so sharp doesn’t mean you know everything.”

“I’ll take that compliment, thank you.”

She hits the switch launching us into darkness to tell me the subject is closed. But I don’t think it is.

We walk back to the house with me deep in thought.

I know that Celia was born here.

What did Mom mean by that?

Knew she was meant to be here…

As opposed to, what?

“Were Tonk and Carmen going to stay in Montana or something?” I ask and the house’s porch light illuminates her profile. “Was there a chance they wouldn’t live in the Louisiana house?”

Mom looks over at me. “What? No. They were always here. Just drop what you think you heard. You’re just searching for something to focus on because you’re upset.” She looks over to make sure I’m dropping it. “Sofia?”

“I’m letting it go.”

“There’s nothing to let go of.”

“Exactly.” I throw my hands up. “See. Dropped. Don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Mom smirks, “That part right there? That’s your father.”

I grin, shaking out my hair as I picture all the times his sense of humor has made me laugh. “Yeah, I get it from him. Almost all my cousins on his side have our sense of humor, too. We fuck with each other all the time.”

Mom’s eyes lose their light. “Well, you have no family on my side, so…why even mention ‘his side.’”

I grab her arm and stop just short of hearing distance from the house. Her face just broke my heart. “Mom, I know so few of the details about your childhood because you refuse to tell me. But I want these ghosts you carry around to stop haunting you. Two huge families love you now. You’re not alone anymore. The past is gone!”

Luna Cocker, more of a badass than I’ll probably ever be, gazes into my eyes like she’s proud of me. Touching my face her warm palm flattens against my cheek. “You’re right. Sometimes I forget that. But I never forget that I have you and Jett. You’re my miracle baby—you’re special, you understand that, Sofia Sol? You were sent to me, and I love you more than I know how to show.”

Speechless I watch her walk away.