Chapter Text
October 16th,1992
Space.
That's the word her mother used as she recited her unconvincing excuse to her children, refusing to look them in the eye as she casually read the words from her mind like the morning paper.
The word shot into Sophia’s brain immediately as she phased out the passing world around her mother's car. The smell of the dealership still clung to the smooth black leather due to her mother’s insistent need for perfection, or in other words, preservation. Sophia once admired her mother's trait, her constant barking for pristine surfaces and persistent orders for cleanliness allowed her to expect and find safety in her house's marbled surfaces. Even how the light from her mother's bleached white teeth could reflect off every surface in the house, as if they too were polished to perfection.
But now, as Sophia began to dig her fingernails deeper into her mother's prized leather, in some subconscious crescent-shaped effort to spite her, the girl couldn’t help but now see the stark emptiness of her childhood home. How others spoke of warm feelings of nostalgia and treasured memories, Sophia now understood that Her's in contrast was more akin to a history book written by the winning side. An erasure of presence. Or any feeling that disrupted her mother’s image of white, unblinking walls and unmarked chopping boards.
Behind her, Sophia’s brother raised his voice in an already defeated protest, knowing he was going to be met by their mothers' deaf ears. Basil was already enrolled in college and their mother claimed that Oreo was too young to travel without her, leaving Sophia to be shipped off to Canada for a few months just to free her mother of one less burden.
Sophia didn’t bother with the fight. She’d long given up on adhering to her mother’s standards after their father suddenly passed away a few months ago. She had grown even more distant and cold to her children, not bothering with her mask of maternal love now that there was no one else there to encourage her praise. Sophia felt the shift as merely a sheet slipping off a cracked sculpture, a single pull that revealed what Sophia already knew was broken to exist with, now exposed for the highest bidders to see. What some may see as artistic emotion, Sophia sees as cowardly faults disguised as strength, or bravery, or one of the other millions of labels attached to her family once they were paraded around adorned in black.
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November 2nd,1992
The train ride from the airport was agonisingly slow, like a rickety march to her death trapped in a metal box without a big enough window in the bathroom to smoke.
Sophia found a sad paint scraped bench outside the station and slumped down upon it with her bags. It let out an ancient creak of protest under the weight, splinters stabbing into her jeans as she turned up the music from her cassette player to drown out the thumping machine tracks behind her. The last gift her father had given her for her 17th birthday last year.
Her aunt's sun faded red truck approached her spot, the same one imprinted on all the memories of her Tita, worn tires rolling over the gravel in front of her. Her Tita Lea pulled her into a polite hug, tracing her used hands over Sophia’s features whilst remarking how similar she looked to her parents. Her aunt’s own face is a mirror of her mothers, only the wrinkles of joy more prominent on her face showing her life of softer emotions.
She helped load Sophia's bags into the bed of the truck, the same she used to ride around in with her brothers on hot summer days whilst visiting their aunt over school break. The nostalgia hit her chest, uncomfortably placing weight, grounding her in the present.
The ride back to the house was quiet due to Sophia blocking out all her senses with her headphones, only responding to her Titas’ attempts at small talk with small grunts of acknowledgement.
Her bedroom was small and floral; it only served as another reminder of her room back at home, large and empty, it provided little comfort to Sophia growing up. Just another room in her house that was under her mother constant supervision, leaving little room for Sophia to make the space her own apart from the well displayed trophies for singing and all the other extracurricular activities her mother forced her and her brothers into when they were younger just to have an excuse to brag about how impressive her children were at dinner parties with all their own shiny bits of metal.
Sophia allowed herself to fall back on the bed once her Tita had left to start on dinner, her favourite from when she was little back when they used to visit often, she promised. The springs shrieked back at her as her raven hair fanned out around the quilt. She peeled off her wireframed glasses, folded them before throwing them hap-hazardly across the bed. She traced the now blurry lines of the ceiling and dragged her nails across the exposed sliver of skin on her stomach, sighing into the empty room as she tried to force herself to get comfortable. Who knew however long her mother planned on keeping her here.
She missed her brothers. She missed her father. She even missed the emotionless cavern of fresh linens and air freshener she called home.
She missed a version of her mother that she wasn’t even sure existed in the first place.
“Thank you, lord, for delivering Sophia to us safely. We pray that you give her comfort and guidance during her stay here...” Her Uncle, Tony, led them in giving thanks before they started eating.
Sophia’s hands held either side of her as she studied the grain of the dinner table.
“Amen” Her Aunt and Uncle said in unison, Sophia chasing it afterwards like an unsure echo.
“So,” Sophia’s uncle began, “How are your brothers?” He smiled gently at Sophia as she picked at the Sinigang in front of her.
It was an easy question, asked as if he chose the wrong words than Sophia would shatter then and there into the food. Sophia wasn’t sure she wouldn’t.
Her Aunt and Uncle never had children. When Sophia was younger she would hear about her friends' cool older cousins and protest how unfair it was that she didn’t get any. “It wasn't in God’s plan” she was told. As if the 7 year old would understand what that meant.
“They’re alright. Basils still at college, Oreos... coping” She responded with practiced politeness from being asked the same questions about her family's wellbeing like an ever rewinding tape.
“That’s great, do you have any plans for college yet?” Her Uncle asked with his signature winning smile now aimed towards a shallow Sophia. It made her head hurt.
“I think I might go into performing arts...” She forced a bite of her food telling herself to ignore the nauseating instinct of questions about her future before the cold overtook her dinner.
“Oh! Following after your mother then?” Her Tita added. Sophia nodded along, expecting the mention of nepotism. Afterall, it was an easy way into the industry if your mother was already a famous performer.
“That's incredible Mahal, you were always such a talented singer. You inherited her gift.” Her aunt smiled warmly at Sophia from across the table. Sophia murmured a small thank you before returning to her food in an attempt to avoid any more stinging remarks about her mother.
Her aunt hummed along to the quaint radio in the corner of the kitchen, whispering out some unfamiliar pop song that Sophia failed to recognise as it crackled with static every few beats.
The sleeves of her Tita’s cardigan were rolled up past her elbows as she scrubbed the evening's dishes softly, not forcing their shine but enough to remove any residue. She handed the scrubbed items over to Sophia to dry with a towel that could qualify more as a sieve with the number of holes it sported.
“Do you know what you’re going to wear to church tomorrow?” Her Tita asked after flicking over Sophia’s travel clothes.
“Oh.. I thought I might just skip that..” Sophia kept her gaze on the plate she was desperately trying to dry with the damp towel, silently praying to a god she didn’t believe in that her aunt wouldn’t force her to attend her Jesus gatherings this time for the aforementioned reason. Her mother was born into the religion but never really followed it, her aunt on the other hand married into it further so they would sometimes come to meetings with her whilst staying out of politeness.
Her Tita paused her scrubbing and turned to face Sophia. “You have to go, Mahal. I wouldn’t want to bother your mother about this..”
Using the threat of the mother that just practically kicked her out so she didn’t have to be involved with her daughter's business was a low blow. But Sophia knew how seriously her aunt followed this religion, so she just nodded in silent defeat and continued her task. The meetings weren't that bad; Sophia just couldn’t justify spending her evenings in bland clothing, listening to preachers dissect the meanings of the same words over and over with different meanings each time to fit whatever crisis was on the news that week.
Some people found religion comforting, Sophia just saw it as cryptic.
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November 3rd 1992
“Miss Laforteza, I presume? You’re 20 minutes late” The stumpy old woman Sophia assumed to be her English teacher remarked, checking her watch for added effect.
Sophia stumbled through the door and started making her way to the only empty seat she could see, in the middle row off to the right near the window. “Sorry, there was an issue with the paperwork. It won’t happen again” she lied easily, not wanting her aunt to be called about her tardiness on the first day so she has another reason to bring up her disappointed mother.
“Very well. Find a seat and try to catch up.” The old fart added unsupportively.
She took her seat behind a darker skinned Girl with long brown hair braided tightly against her scalp and stretching to her waist. The girl watched Sophia with interest as she sat, her thick eyelashes blinking with her in a manner Sophia can only describe as intimidating as she glanced over Sophia's wavy black hair and casual clothes that hid her wealth, as if the girl could see right through her.
After the bell rang the class left efficiently, leaving Sophia alone with the girl in front of her. The girl spun around in her seat to face Sophia who was slowly packing up her books without a hurry to reach her non-existent friends before lunch ended.
“Hi”
Sophia lifted her head to meet the pretty girl's face as she greeted her, now noticing her perfectly applied make up and gold piercings scattered across her head.
“I’m Manon,” the girl, Manon, offered. Smiling easily at Sophia as if she had already heard the rumours of the new girl with glossy black hair that reeked of cigarettes.
“Sophia” She offered in exchange, her face becoming a slightly less depressive episode and more like she was greeting a new acquaintance.
“Where ya from?” Manon asked curiously, with the casualness of someone whose main role in life was grilling new students for all their personal information in order to be the fountain of knowledge to the rest of the school.
“Malan, the Philippines. I’m staying with my aunt.” Sophia tried her best to sound unbothered by her living arrangements as the other girl watched her every move with a gossip ready smile.
“That’s cool... so, what brings you to Quebec Sophia?” The girl calmly rested her chin over her arms that were balanced along the back of her chair, trying to come off as friendly as possible so that Sophia would hopefully spill out her entire life story.
Sophia caught her body language but she wasn't about to air out her drama just so this rural school has something mildly interesting to talk about. “Family stuff. It’s boring” She reflected, clearly giving the memo that this clipped response was all Manon was getting out of the girl.
Sensing her source had run dry, Manon stood after Sophia, offering her one last smile of reassurance. “Well, Welcome to Canada. I’ll see you around?”.
Sophia swung her backpack over her shoulder and followed Manon towards the door, holding it open for the both of them as they slipped out into the busy corridor. Sophia gave Manon a final nod of agreement before watching her slip into the sea of bodies like an Olympic swimmer that trained her whole life to handle these rapids.
Sophia decided to skip the rest of the school day, accepting the inevitable scolding from her aunt in favour of exploring the town (and finding a suitable place to smoke).
She wandered her way through the rustic little town towards the outskirts near the high school, jacket pulled tight against her in an attempt to conserve what little heat she had left over from the hour she attended the warm school building through the Canadian winter breeze. Her formally well-tamed hair was now being wrapped around her cheeks by the wind, a stubborn reminder that she had to fix her hair again before the meeting tonight.
Eventually, her wandering led her to a once proud standing metal bridge, yellow paint chipping off as the rust overtook it. She sat over the side, letting her legs hand freely over the river below as she lit up a cigarette and slipped on her headphones.
Music was often the only thing that kept her grounded. Sophia had been singing since a young age, a passion she always looked forward to for joy and pleasure, her mother saw as an opportunity to exploit, getting her to sing as important events to impress family business partners into better deals.
The energy of Queen playing in her ears somehow allowed her to lean back on her palms and feel steady for the first time since arriving. She let the calmness overtake her here, occasionally feeding the end of her cigarette to her mouth as the sun dipped lower behind her.
The moment allowed her to feel for a second like she could survive this place, that maybe it wouldn’t be so unbearable to spend some time away from her overbearing mother and her unwelcoming house. Maybe her aunt would eventually spare her from her religion and let her spend her evenings hanging out with some friends. Maybe Manon could introduce her to some people, a group that she could slip into when she needed an escape.
The moment was, as all good things are, fleeting.
As Sophia stubbed out her cigarette and flicked it into the river below, she nudged her cassette player, sending it spinning into the current bellow along with her cigarette and the last good memory of her father.
She didn’t cry.
There wasn’t much point anymore.
Sophia had already learnt that you can force out as many gallons of salt water you like, it won’t bring anything back.
She left a longing glare into the water before grabbing her bag and starting the silent walk home.
Never mind, she thought.
Her Tita appeared in her doorway after dinner holding a light pink, floral, long-skirted dress, holding it up to Sophia as she told her excitedly about how the dress used to be hers, but she could borrow whatever she needed for church.
Sophia protested of course, claiming her baggy jeans and black hoodie were fine, but her aunt insisted that she dress appropriately. Sophia complied to avoid another threat against her mother and decided that subjecting herself to floral hell would be bearable for the couple of hours they would be out in public if it meant getting her closer to her aunt leaving her be.
Sophia decided she was officially repulsed to flowers after being surrounded by nothing but what to her seemed to be the same 2 lilies plastered across everything in sight in varying colours.
She watched her own reflection in the rear view mirror.
The dress was... Ok.
She had been subjected to far worse crimes against fashion by her mother attending charity galas or press events. But the neck sat unnaturally on her shoulders, and the waist was too tight on her skin to make her not feel a little self-conscious. She looked more like a dog stuffed into their owner's favourite team's football jersey than a girl attending church.
Inside, the church walls were a sharp cream that hurt your eyes if you looked too closely at a blank space for too long. Bible quotes were scattered around the room on cheap sheets of plastic, printed to give the illusion of a canvas friendly budget.
Sophia tugged her black hoodie sleeves over her hands to try and block out the chill from the lack of proper insulation on an evening in November. She had managed to get away with just a pointed look from her aunt as she slipped downstairs with the jacket thrown over her dress, muttering something about how she was still adjusting to the climate.
Many worshippers gathered in muted colours around them as they took their seats at the back of the room. Sophia gripped onto the edges of her program, silently wishing it would manifest itself into a plane ticket back to Malan before she had to endure the inevitable earache coming her way.
Sophia automatically stood as they were told to rise, a slow unfamiliar hymn began to flow out of the cracked piano at the front of the room as the collection of God’s children mumbled along with it. Sophia stayed silent, observing the ritual she always viewed as more cult-Ish than of eternal praise and love.
Her eyes caught on a head in the front row.
A girl about her age, singing with more heart than anyone else in the room. She held her own book of sheet music gently in her arms despite barely glancing down at it for support, the words just seemed to roll out of her on instinct.
The light reflected off her dark curly hair like a halo. Only... intentional. Like the light was made for her to stand beneath, natural in a way that made Sophia recall her home and her mother's desperate attempts to recreate the organic perfection she saw before her.
As Sophia studied the girl, she suddenly saw her shift her head to meet her gaze.
Her breath stuck in her throat for a moment, but she didn’t look away.
She allowed herself to be caught admiring the girl who she now knew possessed these honey brown orbs that seemed to reach deep into Sophia's soul and admit to her all her sins.
The girl flicked her opinions over Sophia for a moment before meeting her with a soft smile, exposing a dimple that made Sophia suddenly feel the urge to convert to Christianity as there was nothing in her mind that could convince her what she had just witnessed wasn’t holy.
She forced her mouth to quirk up into something she could pass off as a greeting before the dark-haired girl averted her attention back to the front of the room.
Sophia sat on the steps leading up to the church, the icy concrete doing nothing to help the goosebumps on her skin as she waited for her aunt and uncle to finish chatting about morals or something. Sophia was still too wrapped in the thoughts of the girl in the front row to pay attention to another mind-numbing conversation, so there was no competition as to who won over her thoughts.
Sophia turned her head as she heard the squeak of the double doors weathered hinges open and shut behind her.
Everything in this town had noise. Like they were all screaming out for someone to spray some WD-40 or take them to a scrapyard before some freeloading teenager dumps their luggage all over them whilst waiting for their aunt.
“Sophia, right?” The soft voice behind her broke her from her thoughts.
“Why are you hiding out here?” The girl from the front row was now sitting next to her on the uncushioned concrete. Sophia suddenly felt guilty for the girl sitting there costumed in her own modest dress much like Sophia's, only hers fit on her small frame as if it was tailored for her church goings.
She must be cold.
“Thought we were leaving” Sophia finally responded, ripping her attention off the girl as she had noticed herself subconsciously mapping out the freckles that were now visible on her face like constellations.
“The sisters always stay after the meetings; they love to chat. I’m Daniela.” She gave Sophia a chuckle of pity before stretching out her hand in greeting.
Sophia stared at Daniela’s hand as if it was about to wrap around her throat and choke her to death before finally taking it and giving her a gentle shake.
“Do I call you Sister Daniela?” It was a stupid joke, but Sophia wasn’t thinking straight after the contact and Daniela laughed anyway. A laugh that made her heart clench even tighter.
Sophia blamed it on the cold.
“It sounds weird when you say it” The softer girl smiled with genuine amusement and stared at her for a moment, clearly seeing Sophia as a break from her monotonous life.
Sophia watched as Daniela sucked in a deep, grounding breath before continuing. Her exhale smoking out of her mouth like dragons' breath.
“Is this your first meeting?” she prompted.
“No, I came a few times when I was younger, but my parents aren't really...”
“They’re not religious?”
“no.”
The silence rang between them, shit.
As if God was trying to apologise for the caste incident earlier, Sophia’s second miracle of the night came when her aunt and uncle finally manifested behind the girls and ushered Sophia to the car as they said their goodbyes.
“I guess I'll see you around then” The younger girl smiled, her face effortlessly warm despite the frost Sophia could practically see forming on her own nose.
All that Sophia could muster was a quick nod before retreating to the safety of the truck with her aunt, uncle, and a bunch of feelings for a religious girl she needed to sort out before she was smitten by God himself.