—Mom! Mom, please answer me!
Sofia pounded on the basement door with her two tiny fists, crying so hard she could barely breathe. Her small hands slammed against the wood again and again. Tears soaked her cream-colored t-shirt, and her long, dark curls clung to her cheeks.
Behind her, Vanessa appeared from the kitchen.
“Sofia, that’s enough!” he exclaimed, grabbing her by the arms. “There’s nobody down there!”
The girl struggled to break free.
—Yes, she’s there! My mom’s there! I heard her!
Vanessa clenched her jaw. For a moment, her calm expression cracked. Her eyes flickered to the black padlock hanging on the basement door.
Then he looked at the girl again.
—Your mom isn’t here, my love. We already talked about that.
“Don’t tell me that!” Sofia shouted. “She answered me!”
Vanessa gently dragged her towards the hallway, trying not to raise her voice too much.
—Listen to me carefully. If you come near this door again, you’ll be without cartoons for the entire week.
Sofia stopped struggling.
Not because I was afraid of punishment.
But because, just before Vanessa pulled her away, she had heard something that her stepmother didn’t seem to have heard.
Three knocks.
A break.
Two more blows.
Toc, toc, toc.
Silence.
Toc, toc.
Sofia slowly turned her head.
Vanessa also remained motionless.
The suburban house, which until that moment had been filled with the hum of the refrigerator and the distant murmur of a television program, seemed to hold its breath.
“What was that?” Sofia whispered.
Vanessa swallowed.
—The pipes.
—The pipes don’t know how to call my mom.
-Sofia!
The girl flinched at the scream, but did not take her eyes off the door.
Vanessa took her to the living room, handed her her favorite doll, and ordered her to sit on the sofa.
—Don’t move from here.
Then he went back to the kitchen.
Sofia waited.
A.
Of the.
Three minutes.
When she heard the water running in the sink, she got off the sofa and walked barefoot down the hall. The house smelled of detergent, freshly heated tortillas, and the coffee Vanessa had forgotten on the counter.
Everything seemed normal.
The wooden cabinets were closed. Mateo’s jacket hung by the front door. On the table was a family photograph taken during a visit to the zoo.
Sofia approached the photograph.
Her dad was smiling. She appeared to be sitting on his shoulders.
And Elena, her mother, hugged her around the waist.
The girl stroked Elena’s face with a finger.
“I’m coming, Mommy,” she murmured.
Then he heard the knocking again.
This time they weren’t coming from the door.
They were coming from the kitchen floor.
Sofia knelt on the polished wood and rested her palm on it.
Three soft knocks.
Break.
Two blows.
Her face changed completely.
When she was two years old, Elena had invented that code to play hide-and-seek with her. Three knocks meant “it’s me.” The next two meant “I’m here.”
It was a secret between mother and daughter.
Mateo didn’t even know him.
Sofia smiled through her tears.
—Mami…
Behind her, the washing machine suddenly switched on.
The sound of water and drums filled the kitchen.
Vanessa appeared in the doorway, with one hand still resting on the light switch.
—What are you doing on the floor?
Sofia raised her head.
—My mom is downstairs.
Vanessa looked at the girl’s hand on the wood.
—No, darling. You’re imagining things.
-My name is.
—Nobody called you.
—He made our sound!
Vanessa’s smile hardened.
He approached the girl and lifted her off the ground too quickly.
“Old houses make strange noises. That’s all.”
-But…
—The conversation is over.
Vanessa sat her down in a chair and placed a glass of milk in front of her.
Sofia didn’t touch him.
The woman stood by the washing machine, listening to the mechanical noise as if she needed to make sure that nothing else could be heard.
Then there were three knocks from beneath the ground.
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Three.
A break.
Of the.
The hand that was holding the glass of water began to tremble.
Sofia watched her attentively.
—You heard it too.
Vanessa placed the glass on the counter.
—If you tell your dad this, you’ll break his heart.
The girl felt her chest tighten.
-Because?
Vanessa bent down until she was facing her. Her sweet perfume couldn’t mask the metallic scent of fear in her breath.
—Because your dad already has enough problems. And because there are things a four-year-old girl can’t understand.
Sofia pressed her wrist against her chest.
—My mom says I should always tell the truth.
For the first time, Vanessa did not find an immediate answer.
From the other side of the house came the sound of a car entering the garage.
