Page 83 of Tears Like Acid

“Hello, Sophie,” Heidi says with a big smile. “I’m glad to finally meet you. Mr. Russo told me a lot about you.”

Sophie looks at me. “He did?”

“He sure did,” Heidi replies. “He said you’d help me with some baking this weekend.”

“What kind of baking?” Sophie asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Gingerbread men.” Heidi takes a gingerbread man with a face and buttons drawn in glazed sugar from the bag and shows it to Sophie. “Like this one. What do you think?”

Sophie brings the doll from behind her back and holds it in front of the cookie. Whispering, she asks, “What do you think, Beatrice?”

Heidi, having been briefed on Beatrice, waits patiently. Sabella looks on with a soft smile.

Sophie lifts the doll to her ear. After a few beats, she says, “Beatrice says there needs to be gingerbread women too.”

Heidi’s smile stretches. “You’re right. There will absolutely be gingerbread women.” She hands Sophie the cookie. “Would you like to try it after dinner?”

Sophie studies the cookie. “If I take a bite, he’ll miss an arm or a leg.”

Bending down, Heidi tells her conspiratorially, “That’s why you have to eat the whole cookie. So that there are no armless or legless bits left.”

Sophie doesn’t look convinced.

“Why don’t you keep him for now, and you can decide later?” Heidi suggests.

“Okay,” Sophie says. “Must we put him on a plate, Sabella?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” Sabella holds out her hand. “Why don’t I put him on a plate and leave him in the kitchen while you show Mr. Russo your new room?”

Sophie puts the cookie on Sabella’s palm and pirouettes in front of me. “Look, Angelo. Fabien brought us new clothes and lots of things for my room. Beatrice likes him now. He’s funny.” She wraps her small fingers around my hand and pulls me toward the stairs. “Come look.”

Chuckling, I follow her upstairs to the room at the end of the hallway. Fabien did a great job. A sky-blue comforter and scatter cushions in all the colors of the rainbow cover the bed. Stuffed toys sit on the surfaces of the white-washed furniture. A darker blue rug with a couple of poufs forms an area for playing. The room is colorful without being overly bright. It’s a happy room fit for a young child. A temporary room, I remind myself.

Worry gnaws at me again when I think about moving Sophie to the school in Marseille. From the photos I’ve seen, the dormitory room is spacious and clean with lots of light. It’s an adequate room. The principal assured me it’s comfortable with an AC for the hot summers and central heating for the wet winters. It’s not a rainbow room full of fantasy animals, but she’ll get used to it. Children adapt fast. Fabien can create an even prettier room for her in my house, a room with frills and lace and a kitchenette with a tea set and all the things little girls like.

“What do you think?” she asks, tugging on my hand.

I try to remember what the room looked like before they moved in here and destroyed everything. I think it was white with lilac touches. It’s surprising how little of it I recall. Maybe it’s because back then, the children were a concept instead of little humans in my mind. The house was a gift for my mother, not for them. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong. I only wanted to please my mother without thinking it through. I never considered how a move would affect the children.

Smiling down at her, I say, “It’s a beautiful room.”

“I like it too.” She pulls me to a doll’s bed in the corner. “This is where Beatrice will sleep, but she’s still sleeping with me until she’s no longer scared.”

“Is she still scared a lot?”

“Not as much now as before,” she says, rocking the doll in one arm. “I think she likes it here.”

I squeeze her hand. “That’s good. As long as she remembers that her real room will be at my house.”

She frowns. “Will Sabella come too?”

“Sabella’s place is here.”

“Why?”

“I already explained.”

“Then Beatrice and I will stay here with her.”

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