“You believe that’s the priority right now?” Raj demands. He puts down the book he’s been reading in bed and turns to Marin. “Her return to school?”
“What else would be?” Marin slips beneath the covers, grateful for the king-size bed that allows for distance between them. “We agreed to one week off.”
“That was before she knew what her mother did to her,” Raj says. Deciding that small distance wasn’t enough, he slips out of the bed Marin just entered to begin pacing their room. “Before you betrayed her.”
Marin had overheard Brent once telling Trisha that only the best got ahead in America. The smartest survived; everyone else was left behind. Marin refused to leave her daughter behind. “And what would you have done?” Marin asks slowly now, facing her husband across the divide of the bed. Her face is frozen, with no cracks. “Continued to allow her to drown?”
“You should have discussed it with me,” Raj says, fury filling the space between each word. “She is my daughter too!”
Marin laughs, finally understanding. “This isn’t about what I did, it’s that you didn’t think to do it.” Her father’s words echo in the room, the ones he uttered every time she didn’t come home with the highest grade: Everyone is the competition. You are only the best if you are better than others. “You can have my reward. I don’t need it. Just don’t stand there and pretend to be up in arms because I somehow betrayed her. I saved her!”
“Who are you?” Raj demands, staring at Marin with horror. “Do you really think this is about credit? About who gets the prize?” He sighs, a sound filled with emptiness. “I am talking about our daughter trusting us. Believing in us. She was hurting and you just hurt her more.”
Marin, tired of the conversation, accepts they stand on separate ends of an abyss with no means to reach the other side. She grabs her robe and slips it on. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
“That’s your answer?” Raj meets her at the bedroom door, blocking her.
“Get out of my way.” Marin cautions herself to take it slow, to breathe deeply. In all the years of her marriage, she never once feared Raj. Never believed him capable of behaving like her father. But right now, in the heat of their argument, she feels a twinge of fear and hates herself for it. “Now.”
“Not until we finish this discussion.” Oblivious to the fear gripping her, to the reasons behind it, Raj stays where he is. “You owe me an explanation.”
“No, I don’t. I owe you nothing.” Marin grasps the doorknob, ready to hurl the door open and into him if necessary. “I need to get some sleep so I can think. For too long I have left my work unattended while I dealt with our daughter. If you want to help, be involved; make sure tomorrow she finishes up any homework she missed during her week off.” Opening the door, she forces him to either step back or chance her hitting him with it. He steps to the side, finally, watching her leave.
SONYA
I continue to work, arriving each day on time, and staying for hours after my shift is over. The patients have started to get to know me. The young ones, who after chemo treatments are desperate for a distraction, ask for me by name. I spend the longest time with them, explaining in detail the intricacies of photography, offering the only means I have for them to escape.
Since our charged encounter, David and I pass one another in the halls, not stopping like we did to talk or grab a bite to eat. It’s what I expected and what I wanted, yet it hurts more than I imagined. I hold my head up high, refusing to cower when we run into each other. Now, as I am talking to a nurse about a pediatric patient, he walks by, both of us aware of the other, even in this crowded hall.
“Doctor?” The nurse stops him. “Can I bother you for a minute?”