A few days later, Sofia and Tito were once again in Foster Park, sitting on what could almost be called "their bench" by now. They spoke cautiously,
in very low voices, stopping whenever they heard anybody's footsteps. Sofia had a black leather handbag with her.
"Isn't it time you told Joe I'm his son?" Tito asked.
"Joe is your biological father," Sofia said, "but that doesn't make you his son."
"You can't change the facts," Tito pointed out.
A robin sang nearby.
"I wish I could change them," Sofia said.
"You didn't have to tell me the truth, you know," Tito pointed out. "You could have said that it wasn't a match."
Sofia retorted, "No, I couldn't. I'm not a liar, like you."
"But you haven't told Joe. Isn't that like lying?" Tito challenged
"No," said Sofia, "I don't think think it is."
"Well, maybe you aren't exactly lying, but you are keeping the truth from him."
"No. I'm just trying to figure out how to tell him."
"Try using words," Tito said.
"Don't be funny," Sofia answered. "I'm trying to find the right words.
"Meaning you're stalling."
"Maybe you're right," Sofia admitted. "I'm definitely not looking forward to telling him."
"So maybe," Tito suggested, "the best thing to do is to get it over with. Would you," he added,
"like me to be there when you do?"
"No. Absolutely not."
Sofia's cell phone, which was in her handbag, chimed. She took it out, stood up, and moved out of earshot. She came
back to the bench a few minutes later.
"Was that call important?" Tito asked.
"Yes," Sofia said. "It was Joe. Paulina's gone into labor. I'm going to meet them at the hospital...alone."