“Yes, there is. You have a boyfriend, and I’m beginning to think he’s much
older than you. Answer me now: Do you know a man in Lebanon?”
“No, not exactly...”
“Have you met the son of someone in Lebanon?”
“No, I haven’t. I haven’t even met his daughter.”
“Whose daughter?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I think it is.”
“Maybe I should start asking some questions instead. Why is Dad never home?
Is it because you haven’t got the guts to get a divorce? Maybe you’ve got a boyfriend
you don’t want Dad and me to know about and so on and so on. I’ve got plenty of
questions of my own.”
“I think we need to talk.”
“That may be. But right now I’m so worn out I’m going to bed. And I’m getting
my period.”
Sophie ran up to her room; she felt like crying.
As soon as she was through in the bathroom and had curled up under the covers,
her mother came into the bedroom.
Sophie pretended to be asleep even though she knew her mother wouldn’t
believe it. She knew her mother knew that Sophie knew her mother wouldn’t believe
it either. Nevertheless her mother pretended to believe that Sophie was asleep. She sat
on the edge of Sophie’s bed and stroked her hair.
Sophie was thinking how complicated it was to live two lives at the same time.
She began to look forward to the end of the philosophy course. Maybe it would be
over by her birthday—or at least by Midsummer Eve, when Hilde’s father would be
home from Lebanon ...
“I want to have a birthday party,” she said suddenly.
“That sounds great. Who will you invite?”
“Lots of people ... Can I?”
“Of course. We have a big garden. Hopefully the good weather will continue.”
“Most of all I’d like to have it on Midsummer Eve.”
“All right, that’s what we’ll do.”
“It’s a very important day,” Sophie said, thinking not only of her birthday.
“It is, indeed.”
“I feel I’ve grown up a lot lately.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know.”
Sophie had been talking with her head almost buried in her pillow. Now her
mother said, “Sophie—you must tell me why you seem so out of balance at the
moment.”
“Weren’t you like this when you were fifteen?”
“Probably. But you know what I am talking about.”
Sophie suddenly turned to face her mother. “The dog’s name is Hermes,” she
said.
“It is?”
“It belongs to a man called Alberto.”
“I see.”
“He lives down in the Old Town.”
“You went all that way with the dog?”
“There’s nothing dangerous about that.”