Trail of Broken Wings (18 page)

They don’t tell Gia where they are going. There’s no reason to. For now, she and they stand on opposite sides. She is drowning, choosing to swim in the ocean against the currents while Marin and Raj are desperately searching for a life raft to save her. Fear propels Marin. She knows in her heart that no matter how hard she and Raj try, if Gia chooses to drown, they will be helpless to do anything but watch her.

They arrive at the house fifteen minutes early. They’ve been here numerous times over the years for parties, playdates, and barbeques. The Ahbrams live in Palo Alto, on a hill overlooking the city. Robert is the CEO of a start-up company, while Michelle is an attending physician at the teaching hospital in San Francisco. Their daughter, Amber, has been a good friend of Gia’s since grade school.

Marin feels humiliation creeping over her as they stand on the doorstep after ringing the doorbell. Years of keeping her childhood shrouded in secrecy makes sense. How do you demand the respect of your peers when you stand in the shadow of shame? Warring with herself, she offers a halfhearted smile when Robert opens the door.

“Raj, Marin, welcome.” He ushers them in, inviting them into the closed den where they can have some privacy. Michelle, waiting, embraces Marin. “Robert said Raj sounded very serious on the phone. Is everything all right?”

Marin and Raj did not discuss the steps to this dance on the car ride over. Instead, Marin spent the few minutes staring out at the darkened sky, searching for the North Star on the horizon. On a half chance, she hoped it would guide her way. “Thank you for having us over.”

“Of course.”

They take their seats, Robert and Michelle on the chairs while Marin and Raj keep a distance between them on the sofa. Glancing at him, Marin struggles to remember the last time they sat together or sought out a physical connection other than their occasional sexual encounters.

“We’ve had some disturbing information about Gia,” Raj begins, only to stop. He swallows.

“Has Amber revealed anything unusual about Gia?” Marin steps in, her gaze intent on both Robert and Michelle. “Anything that would be cause for concern?” When the couple exchanges a look, the hairs on the back of Marin’s neck start to tingle. Her pulse becomes erratic. “What? Please tell us,” she says, struggling to keep her voice light.

“They’re not as close as they used to be,” Michelle begins, almost apologetic. “We haven’t known how to approach you about it. Amber mentioned the girls don’t spend as much time together anymore.”

It was the last thing Marin expected to hear. She could admit that she didn’t keep track of Gia’s social life the way she did her academic one, but she just assumed Gia remained friends with the group she had always been with. Amber was one of her closest. “I don’t understand. Did they have a falling out?”

“Amber never said. Just that Gia and she weren’t friends anymore.”

Marin searches her brain for a reason, an explanation that makes sense. She knows girls at this age are prone to form cliques, to decide based on arbitrary reasons who belongs and who doesn’t. Marin herself had been kept out of all the popular cliques when she was in high school. Her speech still heavy with an accent, in addition to her secondhand clothes bought from Goodwill, Marin was the easy choice for an outcast. When her father forced her to take extra classes during the summer so she could graduate high school early, she had welcomed the decision. It allowed her to attend university sooner, which proved to be much more welcoming and inclusive than high school.

“Gia never mentioned it?” Robert asks, searching both their faces.

“No,” Raj answers, his face troubled. “Was there anything else that Amber said?”

“I’m sorry, no.” Michelle seems to search for the right words. “I don’t want to pry, but would you feel comfortable telling us what’s
going on? We’ve known Gia since kindergarten. If there’s anything we can do to help—”

Before she can continue or Raj can answer, Marin interrupts, “She’s fine, thank you. We really appreciate your time.” Marin stands, her action directing Raj to do the same.

“If there’s anything,” Robert says, both he and Michelle seeing them out, “don’t hesitate to ask.”

Raj gets in the driver’s seat, while Marin settles into the passenger side. Just as Raj starts the car, the front door of the house opens and Amber runs out. She stands on the steps, under the light of the front porch, watching them. Marin, noticing her, immediately unbuckles her seat belt and opens the door. “Give me a minute,” she instructs Raj. Rushing up the steps, she reaches the girl in seconds. “Amber, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She is smaller than the other girls in the class. Her hair is in a braid, and though some of the girls have started to wear makeup, she is free of any. “My mom said you came over to talk about Gia?”

“Yes.” Marin tries to rein in her anxiety. “I had no idea you two weren’t friends anymore.”

“Yeah,” Amber says, shrugging her shoulders. To Marin she still seems like the young girl who used to come over for sleepovers and would cry for her mom in the middle of the night. The girl who Gia swore was her best friend for life. “It sucks.”

Marin nods, unsure how to move forward. Since this situation began, everything has felt new, without a roadmap to guide. “Gia is not herself. I was wondering if you knew anything about that,” Marin says, trying not to reveal too much.

“Is she in trouble?” Amber asks, her eyes wide.

“No,” Marin says, her nerves fraught. “Why aren’t you two friends anymore?”

Amber clearly fights telling her the truth. Her eyes dart away, staring at the trees swaying in the front yard. She still has on her school uniform. She plays with the pleats of her skirt, thinking. “The boy Gia is dating . . .”

“Gia’s dating a boy?” Marin steps back, trying to keep the shock out of her voice. She pauses, staring at a space above Amber’s head. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know him that well. He’s new.” Amber’s face falls. She is hedging, not telling Marin the complete truth, Marin is sure. “I think that’s why we aren’t friends anymore.”

Thanking her, Marin heads back to the car. Raj backs out of the driveway and turns onto the main street before asking, “What did she say?”

“Nothing,” Marin lies. A vine, stripped of its leaves, wraps around her, binding her arms and legs, paralyzing her. As she takes a breath, seeking strength to free herself, it tightens around her throat and face, cutting off all access to oxygen. With a life built on a foundation of lies, adding one more is seamless. “She just asked us to say hello to Gia for her.”

RANEE

Most of her hours she spends alone now, though she never imagined she’d prefer it that way. Raising a houseful of children makes you forget what your own time means. For some couples, when the children leave home and start their own lives, it is a blessing. More time to spend with your spouse, to rekindle the romance that was lost through the years. For Ranee, it simply meant increased loneliness. Alone with Brent in the house, she used to daydream about leaving. It mattered little where or how; she just wished to be gone.

Ranee often wondered if Sonya was happier far away than she had been with them. So many times, she picked up the phone to dial her daughter, only to lose her nerve and replace the receiver. She knew she had no right to seek advice from the daughter she betrayed. The one who escaped because Ranee had failed to offer her a haven.

Since she had married, Ranee prayed twice a day. Every morning, she repeated the Nimantran, a mantra of verses asking for forgiveness, protection, and humility in life. She added her own words afterward. Specifically, requests of guidance for her daughters, forgiveness for her lack of action, and kindness from her husband. At night, lying next to
Brent, hearing his breathing, she only had one prayer: that she and her daughters would survive to see another day.

When she was young, her parents took the family on a pilgrimage to Palitana, eight hundred and sixty-three temples atop Mount Shatrunjaya. Over seven thousand feet above sea level, it took a full day to climb. People from all over the world came to pay homage, believing it to be a place of victory, where one conquers enemies. Pilgrims offered gold and silver in return for blessings of good health, marriage, and security.

Ranee took a train with her parents and siblings from their hometown and arrived at nightfall. Staying with friends, they all slept in one room on the floor. Ranee curled up next to one of her brothers for warmth. The next morning, her mother woke them while it was still dark to get dressed. They packed
naan
and
chevda—
a mix of spicy rice flakes, lentils, and nuts—for the trek. Ranee was shocked the first time she saw chevda being sold as Hot Mix in grocery stores in America.

The sun was just rising over the mountain. Even from far below, Ranee could hear the bells tolling and smell the incense and roses wafting down the grassy hill. Hundreds of Dalits, untouchables, working in pairs and dressed in loincloths, carried those too old or feeble on
dolis
, swing chairs, up the stairs. After about an hour of climbing steps in the heat, Ranee yearned for the luxury. When she innocently asked her mother if she could sit in one for the rest of the journey, her mother laughed and told her it cost a thousand rupees per person. They were not about to spend that money on her because she was tired.

Chastised, Ranee continued climbing with her brothers and sisters. Along the way, they stopped to drink the fresh coconut water sold at regular intervals. After punching a hole through the hard skin, they tipped the coconut and let the water drip into their mouths. Afterward, Ranee’s dad broke it open so they could feast on the milky white meat inside.

The memory of the temples that awaited them still takes Ranee’s breath away. Carved from solid stone with marble pillars, the open temple was filled to capacity with well-wishers. From every walk of life, people stood side by side in saris and
salwar kameezes
, gently swaying to the songs sung by the gurus. The lyrics paid tribute to the marble statues depicting the various gods the temple enshrined. Lord Shiva, Goddess Parvati, their son Ganesha, and his daughters Lakshmi and Sarasvati were among the dozens of life-size figures.

The pillars served as the only enclosure, leaving the wall-less temple open to the warm breeze from nature. Ranee closed her eyes, letting the music and the wind wash over, cleansing her innocent soul. In that moment, Ranee was one with a being she had never met. Loved in a manner she had never known, and assured of her life in a way that no matter how hard she tried, she could never be certain of again. She made a promise to herself that day, one that haunted her since, to always remember the message conveyed—the world was waiting for her to live.

Ranee arrives at the gathering of the Indian community on time. A family has requested a
puja
—often commissioned for auspicious occasions—to celebrate the building of their new house. In a puja, the gurus spend an entire day in prayer and then call friends and loved ones of the family to join in to bless the occasion. Ranee has attended hundreds of them over the years. The pujas also serve as an excuse to socialize and enjoy dinner together while the children play. It is common in the community to meet every weekend for dinner, to play cards, or to watch a movie at the house. Any excuse to spend time and to make the memories of loved ones left behind in India less stinging. A surrogate family built by those who came from the same homeland.

“Ranee!” Nita, the host and a good friend, comes over immediately after spotting her. “How are you?”

“I am well.” Ranee slips off her shoes at the entrance of the celebration. The temples in India required everyone to leave their shoes outside before entering; people believed that they could feel Earth’s vibration through the structure’s floor, transmitted via the feet. The practice was centuries old. They followed the ritual in their homes too, since nearly every Indian had some form of a shrine within the house. “How are you?”

“I think of you every day.” Nita offers her a hug. “I stopped by to visit Brent last week. My heart is breaking for you, my friend.”