Ranee’s face fills with grief. “Forgive me, my daughter. I was too weak to stand up for you. To tell you that I loved you. To stand in front of him when he hit you. All I had was these,” she says pointing to the gold bangles, “and even this I was too afraid to give. I see now it wasn’t the three of you I didn’t trust; it was me.”
“Mummy,” Marin whispers. Closing her eyes, she allows Ranee’s words to break through. The armor that has protected Marin from herself and the world slowly starts to fall away, leaving her vulnerable and open. “What do I give her? What do I say?” She grips Ranee’s hand tightly, begging for an answer. “How do I get my daughter back?”
“You tell her the truth. You let her in.” Ranee pushes the bangles toward both of them, handing Marin hers first. She watches as Sonya and Marin slip them on, leaving two on the table. “You give her all you have, the truth that is both good and bad, and then trust it is enough.”
Gia and Raj arrive home late that night. Marin sat on the sofa in the den, waiting in the dark for them. Raj finally texted Marin to let her know they were fine, but that was it. No further information. Marin had seen her mom and sister out, both of them offering hugs. For the first time in a long time, Marin had returned their embraces, thankful they were in her life.
When Marin was four months pregnant with Gia, she had been offered a promotion. It required a move back to California, near her childhood home. For Marin, the move, like everything else in her life, came after careful consideration to arrive at the most pragmatic choice. She never went on emotion, trusting logic more. Rationality worked with facts and figures, each decision based on a careful analysis of the pros and cons. It was how she had survived her childhood. Every time her father hit her, she assessed the circumstances, tried to evaluate what led to the beating. She promised herself it would not happen again. Next time she would be sure to get the A-plus instead of just the A. She would control every aspect of her life so she would never again be vulnerable to attack. Her plan had worked. Her life was mapped out to perfection. Until Gia grew up and became her own person.
Gia fell in line for so long that Marin became used to it, assumed life would go on as she planned. But now nothing is working. She is losing her daughter, if she hasn’t already lost her completely.
Marin twists the bangle on her hand. She examines the diamonds set throughout the thin gold, making the bracelet sparkle. She had admired the bangles on her mother’s wrist, but never imagined they were meant for her and her sisters.
It is hard for her to admit Ranee was right to have feared Marin’s reaction. Before, Marin would have thanked Ranee for the gift and then placed the bangles in a drawer, worn them occasionally. Not understanding the sentiment behind the bequest, she would have treated them like everything else in her life—something to use only when it served her purpose. Now she understands her mother’s directive—appreciates what she has given because the gift symbolizes all she has to offer.
The sound of the garage opening causes Marin to sit up straight. She wipes her sweaty palms on her pants, never having been so nervous in her life. She starts to pull her hair back and then chides herself for it. Gia is her daughter, she reminds herself. She will accept whatever explanation Marin offers. Just like she has accepted Ranee’s explanation.
“Raj, Gia.” Marin meets them in the hallway, facing her judge and jury. “Where were you?” she demands. When she sees their wariness, she kicks herself for defaulting to the same behavior. Cautioning herself to take it slow, she whispers, “I’m sorry.” She takes a step toward Gia, who automatically steps back. “Are you okay, Beti?”
“I’m fine,” Gia murmurs, moving toward Raj.
“I can’t imagine you are,” Marin says, seeing their surprise at her words. “This wasn’t the best birthday.”
“No,” Gia answers, avoiding looking directly at Marin.