Sophia's Tiny Blessings

"Oh my god--I mean, gosh, Owen, for the love, stop pulling your sister's hair--"
    Sophia unwrapped Owen's fist from her stepdaughter Jessica's braid. She looked around the aisle while trying to not look like she was looking around the aisle. The gym at St Mark's was filling. She was still arranging her stand, Sophia's Tiny Blessings, and Owen was scrambling for attention. Jessica was threatening him quietly. She was there to help Sophia with the cashbox and, at 11, was Being An Adult.
    "I'm NOT Owen, I'm Batman!" Owen said in the low, growling voice that some young children have. He fluttered his Batman cape and scrunched his mouth below the mask–it was the week before Halloween, so Sophia had given in and let him wear it. She was hoping that at least some of the other kids would be costumed as well.
    "Batman is a good guy," said Sophia, aware that Agnes at the next stall was watching with silent judgment. "Good guys do not pull their sister's hair." She looked around, trying to find a task. "Good guys help save the planet! Go, put these cans in the recycling and see if you can find any more. Stay on this side of the court."
    Owen grabbed the Sprite cans from her and sprinted down the aisle. Sophia sighed and turned to Jessica. She smoothed her strays and kissed her forehead.
    "All right, I think we've got five minutes. Where do you think I should put the spoons? Up front for visibility or closer to the cashbox for an impulse buy?"
    Jessica shrugged. "Up front, I guess."
    Sophia walked to the front of the stall. It was her first year selling at St Mark's Holiday Craft Fair and she had only been able to get the stall because Nancy, who had always had it, went home to take care of her mother. The planning committee, a junta of women with clipboards and flawless coifs, had rejected her original bid. Sophia placed the hand-painted spoons in front of a small tree wearing embroidered ornaments. If she was going to have any chance at being there again next year, this had to go perfectly. Her chest tightened as she moved the tree slightly.
    Sophia had a dream. And a five-year plan.

    "How many of these should I open?" Jessica asked, holding up a roll of quarters.
    "Um, let's start with two," she said, "and we can open more if we need them. Is the Square working?" That was her coup.
    "Yeah, I think so."
    "Come on out here, do you think this looks good?"
    "Yeah, it looks really nice. For real."
    Sophia put her arm over Jessica's shoulder and snuck a side hug.
    "Very peaceful, very demure? Any rizz?" she asked.
    Jessica rolled her eyes and leaned, very slightly, into the hug.

An hour later, Sophia's dream was officially beginning. Embroidery was trendy again and her ornaments were already nearly sold out. She'd given her information for a few possible commissions! (She really needed to get better business cards than the ones she had from the UPS Store.) And though she knew it was only flattery and small talk, she swelled at every compliment. Jessica was doing an amazing job at customer service and even Owen was sitting quietly in the back, watching Peppa Pig on the tablet. Sophia greeted another customer, sneaking a glance over at Agnes. She wasn't keeping track, but she also couldn't help noticing that very few of Agnes' wreaths had sold.


Two hours later, Sophia was popping Advil's. Her perfect location was also the center of a cross breeze and the interplay between popcorn, pine tree candles, and the young man's cologne was giving her a headache. She took the cash for one of her spoons--it had a clown's face painted on it and she rubbed it fondly.
    "This was one of my favorites," she said. "I based it off Bozo." She wrapped it in tissue and her customer placed it in a shopping bag. Sophia stared at him as he walked away, waiting for the pills to take effect. Despite the headache, she was feeling positive until her knees buckled. She braced herself, but the fall was shorter than her reflexes anticipated and she landed hard on her tailbone.
    "What is- Jessica-" she exhaled the words, wind forced out of her.
    "Sorry!" Owen said. "Sorry!"
    "Owen, leave it!" Jessica snapped.
    Sophia lowered her hands and grasped the cool sides of a folding chair. It lined up perfectly with the back of her knees and the outstretched hands of a six year old.
    Sophia took a deep breath. The customer in front of her looked worried and Sophia waved away the concern as she stood. "I'm fine! Do you have any questions? It's all hand crafted."
    The customer wandered off and Sophia turned to Owen. She could feel the hot redness in her cheeks. Her nervous system was clanging and she stood, putting her hands against the tablecloth and leaning over. Deep breaths. It was so hard not to be angry, but he was six, he'd apologized on his own, and he'd been sitting in the back of the stall for hours. She rubbed her lower back, glad she had already taken the Advil she needed. Just a few more minutes for it to kick in.
    "Hey buddy," she said. "You want to take a lap? Just around the edge of the gym to get some of your wiggles out? I know it's been a long afternoon."
    He looked up at her with big eyes, snot starting to drip. Was he expecting her to yell at him? Probably yes, she thought, and she probably would have at home. She felt a small knot of shame in the deepness of her stomach. Sophia put his mask back on and straightened the cape.
    "Come on, Batman," she said. "Go see if anyone needs saving."
    He wiped his nose on his sleeve and took off, slowly at first, then faster. He ran wholeheartedly, arms flailing and the thud of his sneakers drowned out by happy voices.

Owen was back fifteen minutes later, holding hands with a small boy in a devil costume. They stood between customers and Sophia consciously took a moment to appreciate the un-self-conscious affection. Something happened to boys, she knew, around second grade. There would be no more hand-holding or hugging after that point. She didn't know what her expression was, so she moved her face into a smile at Owen and his new friend in his costume. It was a classic devil (she was fine with that, but St Mark's was conservative and she wondered which of the women had dressed him, mainly so she could find her and become friends), but the papier mâché went all the way around his head and she couldn't see a zipper in the back. Never mind.
    "Hey Owen, who'd you find?"
    "This is Lucky," he said. "He said he needs Batman to save him. Can we please go play?"
    Sophia stared at the crowd and shook her head. There were probably a hundred people there. A quick lap where she could mostly see him was different than two boys, one she didn't know, running around. And she couldn't divide her attention forever. Step one on the Five Year Plan was to show her husband there was demand for her products. Next was an Etsy shop, next was a small business loan, and next was freedom.
    "Nope, come on back here. I'll pull the tablet back out and you can watch Toy Story if you don't want to help me count pennies."
    Owen stamped his foot. She raised her eyebrows.
    "All right, Batman. You've got two choices. Lucky goes back to his mom and you hang out here with me, or you go to the daycare. Take your pick."
    "The daycare is for babies," Owen said, rocky voice rising. "I'm not a baby. We want to go play on the swings! You have to let us go to the swings, even if you can't keep up!"
    "Owen. You do not speak to adults that way," Sophia said, gritting her teeth. Her headache was getting worse. "And that's your choice. Here with me or at the daycare. Take your pick."
    Owen stamped his foot again. Sophia rubbed her temples. He had never been an angel, but he rarely was actually rude. She looked at the customer on Owen's left--a woman her age who gave her an understanding nod. Sophia breathed out a quick thank-you, told Jessica to keep an eye on things, and pulled Owen to the side. He hadn't let go of Lucky's hand.
    "All right, mister, pick. Now. Lucky, where's your adult?” She stared at him. His costume really was amazing–she wondered if his mom was using him as a walking advertisement for her own crafts. Tiny horns nubbed through what had to be professional latex covering his head and even his eyelids were sunset red. His eyes, unblinking, were impossible to define. Were they green or grey or blue? She settled on ‘ocean’ and tapped her heel. “Owen: Pick. Lucky: Where should you be?”
    Lucky leaned over and whispered in Owen’s ear.
    “He says his dad is under the building,” Owen said, then huffed dramatically. “And we want to go to the daycare, ‘cause Lucky says then they’ll let us into the playground. ‘Cause we’re not babies.”
    “Under the build–you know what, fine. Fine.” Sophia looked over and saw Jessica playing on her phone as people slowly walked by. She really needed to get back out front. “Under the building. All right. Lucky, what’s your dad’s phone number? I’m going to call him and let him know where you are.”
    Lucky whispered in Owen’s ear again. This time Sophia craned in to listen, but she still couldn’t hear his voice. The gym was just too loud.
    “He says his dad doesn’t have a phone. But his name’s Mr King and he looks like Lucky. He says you’ll know him when you see him.” Sophia stared at Lucky again. She didn’t know what this child really looked like. She turned to Jessica, still on her phone as people walked by. She saw a few remark on her ornaments and move a bit closer before heading on to the mulled cider stand. Jessica was still on her phone.
    “Hey, Jess,” she said loudly. “Can you make sure Owen and Lucky get to the daycare?”
    “No!” Jessica said. “That kid gives me the creeps. He’s weird.”
    “Seriously?” asked Sophia. Jessica shook her head, staring at Lucky wide-eyed. She held her phone in front of her like a shield. Sophia rubbed her temples again, then opened her eyes. No shining, not yet. Maybe a moment away from the crowd could help her avoid a migraine. That was the last thing she needed.
    “Okay, fine,” she said to the children. “Fine. I’ll take them. Jess, put your phone in your pocket and talk to people. You’re in charge. Owen. Lucky. Let’s go.”


The first light that went out, Sophia counted as a coincidence. Lights go out all the time. The second light went out as the boys walked underneath it, Sophia about ten feet behind. A very rare coincidence. Owen and Lucky whispered to each other and, from behind, it was a perfect Halloween scene. Batman conferring with a devil, lights flickering and going out, children’s drawings on the walls, feet pattering against linoleum tiles. Sophia wasn’t comforted. She hugged herself. At least it was quiet here. Another five feet. Another light blowing out. Three’s a pattern, not a coincidence. The boys, hand in hand, didn’t react. They turned the corner towards the daycare and Sophia anticipated hearing the sounds of a busy nursery. There were no coos, there were no cries. As she turned the corner, there was only a bat-winged figure silhouetted. Its wings blocked the hall, red light coming from behind. They weren’t feathered wings, she thought. Angel wings should have feathers.
    The boys stopped walking.
    “Hello.” Sophia said, laughing awkwardly.
    “Hey, do you mind moving over? I’m taking the boys to childcare and I don’t want them to mess up your costume. Those wings are amazing, by the way. How do you get that movement? They look so real.”
    The figure didn’t move. It nodded its head and Sophia realized that what she had thought was a hat was hair. Was horns. Was two braids, maybe, styled in a cyclone and joining above the brow. It moved its arms from its side and the wings spread with its arms. Its eyes were vivid, even though it was backlit. Grey? Green? Focus! The hallway was blocked. Sophia balanced politeness against the warning in her gut. Fighting every instinct, she moved closer. Owen was standing there, staring up and holding hands with Lucky, and she grabbed the boys, moving them behind her. She had expected some sort of resistance, but Owen moved when she put her hand on his shoulder and Lucky followed obediently.
    “Hey, so do you mind moving over?” Sophia asked, voice only slightly shaking. She realized her arms were spread wide, shielding the children. Lucky leaned forward, his chin against her elbow, jaw jutting forward. She pushed him back. Sophia turned and, every sense raw, looked ahead. Horns. Red skin. Uncanny eyes. Her eyes flicked forward. Ignoring the wings, everything was a match. Horns. Red skin. Uncanny eyes. She made eye contact with the figure in front of her as she maneuvered the boys back. Her neck hairs raised and she felt the cold fear of a goat staring at a lion.
    “You’ll know him when you see him,” she whispered. “Are you… Lucky’s dad?”
    It inclined its head. Lucky let go of Owen’s hand and ducked under her arm. She pulled him back behind her. “No! I’m not letting you run off. I need you and… this person… to confirm you know each other. You’re in my care, Lucky. I’m not letting you go.”
    Lucky leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Jessica and Owen would ask her for years what he said, but she never told them. She looked at Lucky, placed her forehead against his for a moment, then held him briefly by the shoulders.
    “I trust you,” she said. “And you just do what’s right. I know you will.” She nodded at the figure blocking the hallway and walked up to it.
    “All right, well, I don’t know why you’re here and I don’t know how Lucky got in, but here he is, safe and sound,” Sophia said. She had a small speech prepared but, once she began talking she couldn’t stop. Sophia was aware she was babbling but unable to stop herself; she felt like she was looking at a tableau from a distance, watching the woman speak nonsense.
    “And I don’t know why you were under the church or you don’t have a phone but it might make things easier in the future, I can get you a burner if you need one, and–”
    Four minutes.
    “What?” Sophia’s brain snapped stopped as she stared at the devil in front of her. The devil? The Devil?
    “Run! Get outside now!” She walked over and pulled the fire alarm as Owen ran, then called Jessica. She answered first ring. Of course she did. Good girl.
    “Run! Get out! Grab the spoons and the cash box and meet me in the parking lot! Go!” She hung up before Jessica could respond, then looked at the figure in front of her.
    “Why?” she asked. “Why are you here? I know we’re all sinners but–”
    It reached out, pushing a claw into her breast, into her heart:
    Pride.
    And it gestured more widely, encompassing the entire church.
    Gluttony. Wrath. Lust.
    It touched her again.
    Three minutes.
She ran.


They called her a hero on the news. Pulling the fire alarm gave the congregation a chance, at least. Thirty six people died in the gas explosion, but it could have been worse. Still, Sophia stared at empty pews on Sunday. She looked at the preacher and wondered–which was he? Gluttony, wrath, or lust? Nothing was the same, but she knew one thing. Well, two.

The Devil was real.

And her crafts were amazing.