Trail of Broken Wings (22 page)

“Children?” It’s not the question I expected. I have never allowed myself to imagine children. I loved the ones I came across in my years in the field. I learned that no matter what country I was in or the conditions of the local economy, children all over the world had the same thing in common—they wanted to spend their lives laughing. I was amazed at the lengths they would go to play a game or a joke to reach their goal. When I spent time in Congo, I watched young girls and boys using their firearms as play swords while training for the front lines of a war. They laughed as they played, oblivious to the live weapon in their hand. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Trisha mocks my answer. “Everyone knows,” she says. She grips the door handle even though I am going below the speed limit. “Children are the source of all happiness. The happily ever after.” Her voice, high from the alcohol, suddenly drops. “But you have to have a husband first. Or a wife.” She glances over at me, coming to a realization. “Are you gay?”

“No,” I say quietly, “I’m not gay.”

“Because now that I think about it, I’ve never seen you with a man.” She is reviewing the years, trying to find a time when I brought
home a guy or mentioned a date. She will come up empty. “Wow,” she says. “Are you a virgin?”

Sex is not a topic openly discussed in Indian households. There is a taboo around the concept, as if it were a dirty word. When I got my period, I remember my mother dropping her head in disappointment. She told me quietly she would let Dad know. I wondered why it was important to inform him when it was my body. My sisters and I followed Mom’s example and never mentioned the word. Since we weren’t allowed to date, there was never a reason to broach the subject or discuss the implications.

“No, Trisha, I’m not.” I ward off the uncomfortable feeling, the fear that grips me. My secret will remain hidden, I assure myself. “But we’re not talking about me. Why did Eric leave?”

“Children,” she says, thankfully forgetting about my sex life. “He wants children.”

“Don’t you?” I still remember the years of her playing with her Barbies. Her nightly ritual of wedded bliss followed by a family. The only definition of happiness she knew.

“No,” she shudders. Wrapping her arms around herself, she sinks into the seat. “I couldn’t.”

“You have problems with infertility?” Of all the things, I never would have expected this. When you view someone to be perfect, it is hard to imagine any imperfections marring their life.

“No.” Trisha is quiet. I glance at her to see if she is falling asleep, but her eyes are wide open, staring at nothing. “He thought we did.”

She is speaking in circles, taking the conversation around without an endpoint. “What happened, Trisha?”

When we were kids, Trisha and I used to play a game of hide-and-seek. But she changed the rules every time we played. Sometimes I would have to count to ten before seeking her, other times to fifty. But the rule that infuriated me the most was that if I found her too fast, I lost. She used to say the game had not really been played. As if it were
my fault that her hiding place was easy to discover. We would start over, with her hiding and me counting. I didn’t realize until I was older that the rule was never used when we reversed position. No matter how quickly she found me, she still won the game.

“I have an IUD,” she finally admits, too lost in her alcohol stupor to censor her admission. “So that I wouldn’t get pregnant.”

I reach her house. Pulling into the driveway, I keep the car running. The headlights illuminate the house, a mansion by anyone’s standards. The yard is immaculate and a small white fence lines the tulip garden. A “Welcome” sign adorns the door, as does a brass knocker to announce one’s arrival. “He wanted it out?” I ask, trying to make sense of her words.

“You can’t change what you don’t know,” she says, staring at her home. “I lied to him, Sonya. But then he found out and now he’s gone.”

MARIN

Five steps before she reaches the school, Marin stops, unsure. The day is beautiful, warm, and breezy. Quintessential California. The weather offers a false sense of security—with so much beauty you assume nothing bad can ever happen. Her childhood was proof that wasn’t true. Nonetheless, she convinced herself. Fell for the false sale. Now, she knows for sure. It is not just the dark that brings out the darkness. Daylight has its own form of hell.

Marin doesn’t allow fear to make her falter. Reaching the front door, she walks in with a confidence she doesn’t feel. A lesson learned from childhood—if you put on a good show, people will believe. Marin lost track of the visits to the nurse for pain in her stomach when she was a child. A simple examination would have revealed the bruises, but the school nurse accepted Marin’s insistence she was learning to digest American fare.

“Marin.” Karen is in the office when she enters. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

After returning home from Amber’s, neither Raj nor Marin mentioned their visit to Gia. That night they fell asleep with a gulf between them. Enough room for the heartbreak that had settled into their lives.
“Gia forgot her science book,” Marin says. She had actually pulled it out of Gia’s backpack seconds before she left for school. It was the only excuse Marin could create to follow through on her plan. “Since she has science after lunch, I thought I would drop it off.”

“Of course.” Karen holds out her hand. “We’d be happy to take it to her.”

“I’m fine. It’ll give me a chance to say hello,” Marin continues the lie seamlessly.

Karen glances around them, cognizant of other parents in and out of the office. “Why don’t we speak in my office?” Once there, she closes the door behind them. “I’ve been meaning to call you but wanted to give your family some time.”

“We appreciate it,” Marin says, holding her cards close. “As you can assume, it was a shock.” Always a professional, she keeps her words clipped and sure.

“Of course. You spoke to Gia?”

“Yes.” Marin weighs her options, each one weightier than the last. There is no right answer here, she is sure. Instead, she chooses the easiest, the one to get her where she wants to go. “She refuses to tell us anything.”

“I see.” Karen fails to mask her disappointment. “I was hoping for more.” She goes behind her desk and opens a drawer. Pulling out a Rolodex, she flips through it until she finds the card she is searching for. Handing it to Marin, she says, “An excellent child psychologist. One trained to deal with abuse. I would highly recommend you call her.”

Marin takes the card and tucks it into her purse. She has no plans to call a psychologist or psychiatrist to help her with her daughter. She will handle this herself. “Thank you,” she says. “I appreciate the reference.” She glances at the time. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I better get this book to Gia before lunch is over and classes resume.”

“Marin,” Karen says, coming to stand beside her. “I mentioned to you last time I was required by law to contact child services.”

With all that happened that day, Marin has forgotten.

“As an administrator it is my first priority to protect the children in the school,” Karen continues. “I would never try to overstep my place—”

“Then don’t,” Marin says, not allowing her to finish.

“A social worker contacted me. They wanted more information.” Karen doesn’t acknowledge Marin’s directive. “I told them what I knew. What I believed.”

“Which is?”

“That I don’t think her parents are at fault. But someone hurt Gia.” Karen lowers her voice. “They mentioned they would be contacting you very soon. They need to know who did this.”

“Then we agree,” Marin says, softening her tone so the interaction doesn’t become combative. “When I find out who did this, and I plan to, I will make sure and let you know. Until then, I appreciate you providing my daughter with the best education my money can pay for.”

A diverse student body fills the hallways. Pouring out of their classrooms, the ninth through twelfth graders search until they find their friends. They head en masse toward the lunchroom or outside to eat. With the weather permitting it year round, most students chose to eat outside on the tables under the trees. Gia’s last class before lunch is literature. It is with her favorite teacher, a man who has published a number of short stories in journals. As Marin nears the classroom, she spots Gia standing right outside of it, her hand enclosed in a young man’s. Taller than Gia by a number of inches, his blond hair is a contrast to Gia’s brown. A handsome face filled with confidence. He’s laughing at something Gia said. He moves down, brushing his lips over hers.

“Gia!” Marin’s yell reverberates through the hallway, stopping everyone. Students stare, first at Marin and then at Gia. The small student population guarantees everyone knows one another. An
unexpected drama in the middle of another normal day catches their attention, and the normally boisterous students fall quiet. Aware of the potential scene, Marin plasters a smile on and lowers her voice. “Sweetheart, you forgot your textbook at home.”

“I did?” Gia drops the boy’s hand immediately. Stepping away, she begs him with her eyes to leave. “Which one?”

“Science.” Marin leans down to offer Gia a quick hug. Gia winces when Marin’s hand brushes her arm. “Gia, aren’t you going to introduce me to this young man?”

Disappointed there isn’t a show, students scatter. Gia glances around, making sure they no longer have an audience. “Uh, this is Adam.” She steps even farther away from him, as if the last few minutes never existed. Starting to walk away, she waits for Marin to follow her.

“Nice to meet you, Adam,” Marin says, ignoring Gia’s cue. Holding out her hand, she waits for him to shake it. Already knowing the answer, she asks, “Are you in the same grade as Gia?”

“No.” He glances at Gia, a silent message passing between the two of them. “I’m a senior.”

“And you’re new?” Marin prods, demanding answers.

“Yes. My family just moved here this year.” Sticking his hands into his pockets, he leans back against the lockers. “From Florida.”

“Well, welcome.” Marin smiles, a false one meant to disarm. “I’m thrilled Gia and you have met. Obviously, you’ve become closer than she let on.” Marin gives Gia an indulgent smile, assuring them she’s in on their secret but approves wholeheartedly. Gia, who has returned to Marin’s side, returns a weak one. “Tell me about yourself, Adam, since Gia has failed to.”

Adam raises his eyebrows, confused. “I play basketball.” A bell rings overhead, reminding the students lunch period has begun. Pointing to the clock, he says, “The bell is my cue. I should get going.”

“Of course.” Turning toward Gia, Marin offers a half-disapproving look. “I’m sorry Gia hasn’t introduced us earlier. But no worries, we can
make up for it.” Leaning down, Marin whispers into her ear, “See you later, sweetheart.” Not waiting for any further discussion, Marin leaves them, walking briskly out of the school and back to her car.

“I have a study session tonight,” Gia calls out, sharing a glance with Adam.

“Right. Study hard,” Marin says, giving nothing away.

Almost Gia’s dismissal time. Marin has waited impatiently. Work failed to keep her occupied. Without telling Raj of her plans, she gets into her car and drives to the school and parks at a distance. From her vantage, she’ll be able to see Gia without being detected. When the final bell rings, students pour out the front door. The younger classmen head toward rides while the upperclassmen go toward the parking lot where their cars are parked. Marin spots Gia immediately. Her backpack is thrown carelessly over her shoulder. She is surrounded by her friends, some of whom Marin doesn’t recognize. Relieved, Marin watches them walk toward a waiting car. Seconds later, Adam exits the school. Marin assumes he calls Gia’s name, because she turns. Marin sees the struggle on Gia’s face before she says something inaudible to her friends. Soon enough she turns toward Adam, slipping her hand into his. Waving good-bye to her friends, Gia gets into Adam’s car and they drive off.

Driving a safe distance behind them, Marin watches as they pull in front of a house in Redwood City, a few miles north of their home. It’s large, with a well-kept yard and luxury vehicles parked in the road. The neighboring homes are similar in style and square footage. Adam pulls into the driveway and both exit the car. From Gia’s behavior, Marin can tell she’s been here before. Gia waits while Adam unlocks the front door with a key. Following him in, Gia shuts the door, not catching sight of Marin sitting in her car a few doors down.

Marin watches, waiting. One hour turns to two, until soon enough the sun sets and dusk falls. Marin doesn’t leave her place, her eyes focused on the front door. Nearing ten p.m., Gia’s curfew, Adam exits the house first, followed by Gia. They get into his car and start to drive. Marin quickly starts her own car, increasing her speed to reach home before they do. Once there, she pulls into the garage, shutting it quickly behind her. She sprints into the house just as she hears the jingle of keys in the front door. Smoothing her hair back, she goes into her office to wait. When the front door slams shut, Marin steps out of her office to see Gia locking up.