James was waiting on the swings. Him and Sophie had been friends since before they really knew there were differences between boys and girls. It would be an understatement to say that James had “a little bit” of a thing for her. Sophie was well aware of this and did her best to make sure it was kept in check. Though that didn’t stop her from accepting the ego boost his affections provided.
Sophie could see him as she walked across the grass. He was wearing his usual attire of an excess of baggy clothing that served to emphasise his small frame, rather than disguise it. She often teased him about such things, but he didn’t seem to wish to ever change. He was sat, moving gently back and forth, and dragging his feet along the ground. He turned as he heard he footsteps on the wood chippings of the playground.
“Hi, James.” Sophie smiled at him.
“Hi, Soph.” James beamed back at her behind his thick-cut, NHS glasses. “How’s life?”
“Exceptionally confusing.” Sophie slumped onto a swing next to him. She pushed off with her feet and began to swing in a slightly haphazard fashion. “Everything was so much less complicated when we were kids, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” James looked thoughtful. “School was definitely a lot easier.”
Sophie gave him a look of endearment. “Yes. Yes it was. Families too.”
“Families are complicated?”
“Mine is. Well, it is now. I’m adopted, James.” She looked at him hopefully.
“Oh.” James’ face was offering no help. “Well, it’s nice to know, I suppose?”
Sophie sighed and went back to swinging.
“Do you know who your real parents are yet? I mean, your biological ones…”
“I’ve met my father. I don’t know what to think of him.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, either he’s mad or the world is. And even then, I think he’s still at least a little bit mad.”
“I sometimes think my parents are a little bit mad. Mainly whenever they try and go on about sport.” James gave her a reassuring smile.
“Yeh, he’s not that kind of mad. He’s more of your ‘mad prophet’ kind of mad. Beard and robe and everything.”
“Oh dear.”
“I’m meeting up with him again tomorrow. I’m gonna try and make him make a bit more sense. And maybe I can learn a bit about my mother.”
“Why can’t you meet her? Oh, she’s not dead it she?” James did his best to make his face show concern, but the glasses rendered it a bit ineffectual.
“Not that I’m aware of.” Sophie stopped swinging. “She’s apparently gone off somewhere and he doesn’t know where. He thinks she’ll be coming back, but has no idea when. Hell, that could just be some sort of delusion of his. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were staying away from him as much as possible.”
“Oh come on, he can’t be that bad!”
“No, I suppose he’s not. But it’s a bit jarring, really. To find out one day that you’re adopted, and then to find out the next day that your real father is the sort of man you’d avoid in the bus station in case he tried to give you some sort of leaflet.”
“Can I help at all?”
Sophie smiled, “You can take my mind off all this. Take me back to yours, beat me at computer games, and feed me until I pass out.”
“Um, okay?” James always got a little bit nervous at the thought of having Sophie in his bedroom. His mother would never allow girls in his room, but Sophie wasn’t considered a “girl”. James’ mother had known Sophie longer than Sophie had known James and she’d always approved of her. Though she did share Sophie’s mother’s opinion about Sophie’s hair. Suddenly Sophie wondered if James’ mother had known about Sophie’s adoption. And did anyone else know?
This all kept Sophie rather quiet on the walk to James’ house (not that it was a particulaly long one). James didn’t press her to break her silence. He’d never been one for excessive talking anyway, and Sophie’s company was enough to keep him more than happy. He preferred to simply look at his feet as he walked, trying not to smile or blush too much.
James’ bedroom was a boy’s bedroom. The walls were covered in posters and almost every possible surface was covered in things no longer considered toys (as he was now too old for such things) but collectibles. James was a hoarder and could see no reason to get rid of something that might have a use one day. He had drawers full of things with broken or missing parts and spare parts for things that he no longer owned. He had a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that was full to bursting with well-thumbed paperbacks. Some of them he didn’t even like, but he kept them anyway, just in case he forgot how he felt about them and needed to find out again.
It was relatively tidy today. His mother had come in earlier in the day and picked up all the clothes that had lain littered about. She’d intended to clean it, as she’d done the rest of the house. Unfortunately, there was barely anything to clean, without resorting to a large scale rearrangement of items. She’d vacuumed the floor and left it at that.
Sophie was now sat on this dirt-free floor with a plate of cheese-on-toast that James’ mother had made for her when she’d told her that, no, she hadn’t had any dinner yet. James was busy setting up the game they were about to play. He handed a controller to Sophie and she held it with one hand, the other being occupied by a half-eaten slice of the cheese-on-toast.
The game began and Sophie continued eating, neglecting to move her character and concentrating her focus on hitting whatever attack buttons she felt like. James’ character was running and jumping all over the screen, but was barely managing to land a blow on Sophie. She managed to stifle a giggle as his character was knocked out and he turned to look at Sophie in disapproval. She nonchalantly chewed on the last bite of the slice and placed her now free hand on the controller.
James took the second round with ease as Sophie was trying to remember complicated button combinations she’d learnt when they’d last played this game. None of them seemed to work, so she turned back to her random button strategy for the last round. It was a close fought thing, but James just beat her. Sophie gave him a smile that was intended to make it seem like she’d let him win, but she knew it wasn’t true. Sophie got up and left him to play on his own for a bit while she ate her second slice of toast and inspected his bookcase.
“Surely you’ve read them all by now?” James asked, not looking up from his game.
“I have not!” Sophie replied, petulantly. “And anyway, you might have some new ones.”
“Not for a while now. I’ve mostly been getting stuff from the library or just re-reading old stuff.”
“Let me guess, Hitchhiker’s Guide for the millionth time?”
“They’re great books! And no, other stuff.”
“Maybe I should give them another read. I might be going on my own fantastical journey soon…”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if Bob’s no help, that’s my new dad, by the way, I may have to go find my mother. No idea how I’d do that.”
“Well, couldn’t you just do a quick internet search for her? Everyone’s online in some for or another…”
“If she’s anything like Bob seems to think he is, she’s probably not going under her ‘real’ name any more. Hell, she might not even have a real name.”
“What?” James stopped what he was doing and looked round at her.
“It’s a long story that I don’t know the full details of yet.” Sophie lay down on James’ bed. “Bob seems to think he’s as old as the human race. And he said something vague about him and my mother having ‘arrived’ around then. Where they arrived from, I don’t know yet. I’m going to see him tomorrow, so I might be able to learn a bit more then. Or I’ll just come away even more confused.”
“Oh. That’s definitely very… hmmm.” James managed.
“Yes, it definitely is that.” Sophie rolled onto her side and looked at James. “Why have you gone all quiet?”
“There’s, um… there’s a girl in my bed.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m not in your bed, James, I’m on it. And you know full well it wouldn’t mean anything even if I were in it.”
“Yeh…” Jamie avoided her gaze. Sophie rolled her eyes once more and lamely threw a book at him. It caught him on the arm and James rubbed the imagined bruise as he blushed heavily.
Sophie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stared down at her feet. “I just need a friend right now, James. Everything’s being complicated right now, can’t we just be simple?”
“Sorry.” James adjusted his glasses and smiled at her. “You’re my best friend, Soph, and I’m always here for you.”
“Thanks, Jim-Jams.” Sophie smiled back at him and watched him wince at the childhood nickname she’d given him long ago. “Now, what other food have you got? That cheese-on-toast was most certainly not enough to fill the gaping hole in my digestive system.”
“Your entire digestive is a gaping hole!” James teased. “A black hole, into which all snacks fall, never to be seen again! You know, when you went on holiday a while back, mum was still buying the same amount of food and she couldn’t understand why our cupboards were overflowing. It was because you hadn’t been round here raiding them for over a week!”
“Oh, shut your mouth and get me some cake, you silly boy.” Sophie stood up and pushed him out of the bedroom door towards the stairs.
Bob was searching his home, which was part of the church and yet wasn’t. To any normal human, it wasn’t there at all and most of the time, neither was Bob. To Bob, he was very annoyed by how often he had people being thoroughly bored in what was essentially his hallway.
He was searching for various diaries and personal effects that he would need for tomorrow. Sophie wanted to know the truth, which would mean he’d have to remember it all first. Oh, if only her mother were here! She’d remember it all. She’d always had such a good memory. Or at least it seemed as such. He’d let himself get old and he’d gotten forgetful. What was the point of remembering all these things that had no bearing on now? The price of eggs at the corner shop was worth remembering, the name of that Viking who’d gotten drunk and taken offence to Bob calling him a halfwit was not. Though he did remember old Oglaf, for some reason.
The diaries would have to do. Sophie’s mother had kept them while she had been here and she’d brought him a new one whenever she returned from her travels. He never read them. He’d been there for almost all of her original writings and he had no interest in anything new she had to say. He’d resolutely taken to just throwing them in a corner and forgetting about them. Right now, he was wishing it had always been the same corner.
A small grey cat sat and watched him at work. It mewed at him.
“Yes, Douglas, I had thought about that.” Bob said, in seeming reply.
The cat mewed once more.
“Well, I’ll tell her not to, won’t I?” He turned to face the cat and it cocked it’s head on one side, managing a marvellous look of withering skepticism. “Oh don’t look at me like that! She’s not going to want to go off looking for her. I mean, why would she? She’s a 16 year-old girl. They don’t do such things, do they? They sit and watch television and go to parties and court young men on that web-thing. 16 year-old girls do not go wandering off looking for mothers they’ve never met!”
The cat gave a final mew, before wandering off to the kitchen to find itself something to eat.
“The salmon in the fridge is not for you!” Bob called after it, knowing full well he would be ignored. He cursed his decision to endow Douglas with further intelligence than his normal cat-genes would have allowed. But then, he did serve as a decent sort of conscience. As long as the dilemma didn’t involve an outcome that would involve him getting fed, that is.
Bob went back to his searching and it wasn’t long before it bore fruit. He placed the two further diaries he’d found on the pile. The problem was, he wasn’t sure how many there actually were. She’d always managed to keep them fairly concise, he knew that. But even then, there was a lot of time to cover. And there’d be even more noteworthy events available to go into the more recent ones. He’d just have to search everywhere until there was nothing left to find. He looked at the vast expanse of mess and sagged at the prospect. There was no way he was going to get this all done before Sophie arrived tomorrow.
He decided a tea break was in order and retired to the kitchen. He found Douglas sat next to the kettle, with a plate before him and something a definite salmony pink hanging from his mouth.
“How you manage to do that without thumbs, I’ll never know.”
The cat gave him a smug grin and finished off the salmon. Bob opened a cupboard a pulled out a rather ancient looking mug. He hesitated a moment and turned to Douglas.
“A milky one for you, I assume?” The cat nodded and Bob grabbed a small tea cup from the same cupboard. He filled the kettle and put it on to boil and busied himself with putting tea bags in the mug and cup and adding sugar to his. He got the milk out of the fridge and set it down on the counter next to everything else. He pretended not to notice Douglas licking his lips as he did this.
The kettle boiled and Bob made the tea, making sure to make Douglas’ with about the same amount of milk as water. The tea bags were squeezed and went into the bin and the tea was stirred thoroughly before being taken back into what could vaguely be called the living room. Douglas followed along behind Bob and took up residence on the footrest, where he could easily reach his tea after Bob had set it down on the table.
Bob sipped his tea and vaguely stroked Douglas. “Do you think she’ll be happy with all this?”
Douglas mewed and lapped at his tea, making a face after discovering it was still a bit too hot.
“Me neither, old boy. To be honest, I really have no idea what she’ll think.” Bob sighed. “Maybe she’s just like her mother. Maybe she will go off to try and find her and these diaries will just encourage that. Maybe I’m just destined to not have a woman around this place.”
Douglas was too busy with his tea to give any sort of answer. Bob slurped at his and then looked puzzled.
“Oh, sod it all, I forgot to bring in the biscuits!”
Douglas watched him as he left the room and shook his head. He could tell what was going to happen and felt a bit sorry for Bob. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t excited at the prospect of tagging along on Sophie’s adventure. If she had one of course. But then, he was pretty sure she’d decide to. I mean, with his persuasion, why wouldn’t she?
