“What do you want us to pack?” Sonya asks, dressed similarly to her sister. Hands on her hips, she glances around. “How will we know what belongs to you versus Eric?”
“It’s labeled,” Marin announces, pulling out a stack of books from the shelf. Each one has a sticky note with Trisha’s name. “Every single thing.”
“No point making the job harder than it has to be,” Trisha seems to defend against any unspoken judgment. “Besides, I would hate to take anything of Eric’s.” At her own mention of his name, her lips thin out and her face tightens. Only Ranee notices the subtle shift and catches the sadness that crosses her daughter’s face before she masks it. “The sooner we’re done, the better.”
Trisha called Ranee a few days back to tell her the news that they were moving forward with a divorce. Shocked, Ranee demanded answers, but Trisha’s terse reply was that it was for the best. She asked if her mother would help her pack her few belongings. Not only did Ranee agree, but she immediately contacted Marin and Sonya to enlist them.
“There’s not a lot of stuff that’s labeled yours,” Sonya says, going through the music and only finding a few CDs with Trisha’s name on them. “He bought all the rest?” She indicates the shelf still filled.
“I bought them, but after we got married,” Trisha explains vaguely, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Since they were with his money, they’re his.”
Everyone falls silent, staring at her. Marin finally breaks it, stepping closer to Trisha. “Are you telling me that anything bought after marriage Eric says belongs to him?” Marin shakes her head. In seconds, she transforms into the executive that she is, assessing the situation, unhappy with the results. “I’m going to call around, find you a better divorce lawyer.”
“That was my decision, not his.” Trisha finally faces her sister. “He wanted to be generous with alimony, split everything in half. I refused.”
Ranee closes her eyes, praying for guidance. “Why, Trisha?” She wrings her hands together. “What will you live on?”
“I’ll be fine.” Trisha insists. Finished filling a box with her shoes, she tapes it closed. “I’m going to look for a job.”
No one says a word, each one fully aware that Trisha hasn’t worked in years. Silently, they return to their packing. It is easier than they initially imagined, since so many of the household possessions were bought after Eric and Trisha took their vows. Ranee watches her three daughters carefully, seeing them for the women they are, and also the women they could be. She imagines a trapeze artist walking a tightrope across a large gulf, desperate to reach the other side but unsure if she’ll survive to make it.
“He wanted the divorce?” Ranee asks, taking a seat on the sofa for a minute of rest. Time has passed quickly as each one worked diligently on the task at hand. She pours them all glasses of iced tea, choosing the cool drink over her preferred chai. “Because of children?”
Trisha whips around, her glare warning Ranee to let the subject drop. “It just didn’t work out,” she says mildly, her voice rising, a hopeless attempt to protect the truth. “Marriages end every day.”
“Without a reason?” Marin demands, joining the conversation. She finishes labeling a box “Dishes and Plates.” The china from the marriage is left untouched in the cabinet. “You two always seemed so in sync.”
Ranee hadn’t confided in Marin the information Sonya had given her about the real reason for Eric and Trisha’s separation. With Gia’s situation, Ranee was sure Marin had enough to deal with. But it was hard to keep the truth from her oldest. To Ranee, another secret felt like yet another skeleton.