Trail of Broken Wings

Ranee, like every other believer, checked her astrological calendar religiously, never daring to hold an event unless the stars were aligned to guarantee happiness. It was that way with the generation before her and every generation prior to that. It was the way it was done, as natural as breathing.

This time, though, Ranee did not check the calendar. Nor did she meet with a guru who would tell her the most auspicious time for the event to take place. She couldn’t foresee finding the right moment to unplug Brent’s life support, to cut off all oxygen to him so he could leave this world, freeing Ranee and her daughters at last. Instead, haste was the conductor, the one who determined when it would happen.

But as much as Ranee wants it done already, she accepts it is no longer her decision alone. All three of her daughters are finally together, with her, and she will not disrespect them by failing to give them the voice they have earned. They lived through him—it is up to them when he should die. There is no calendar to consult, no time that proves better than another. No stars have aligned to protect her three girls; fate has failed to intervene. Their combined voice is now more powerful than the universe’s, their strength earned from having survived. They will do this now because it is past time for them to say good-bye.

When Ranee arrives at the room, she assumes she will be first, since she’s come earlier than the time she designated. She is surprised when she sees Trisha standing by the window, her back to where Brent lies on the bed.

“Beti,” Ranee exclaims, going over to wrap her arm around her daughter’s waist. “You’re here early.” When Trisha returned to her own house, it left Ranee’s quieter, emptier than she thought possible. Odd, she never missed Brent’s presence, but Trisha’s departure left the home barren, even though Sonya was still there.

“I needed to see him,” Trisha admits, turning fully into her mother’s arms. “To ask him why.”

“What did he say?” Ranee asks, unsure. Somehow, they would have to find their way, and, maybe, by holding one another’s hands along the charred trail, each of them would find their own path to healing.

“He didn’t answer.” Trisha sobs the obvious. “But you know what?” She pulls away, facing Ranee, “I don’t think, even if he were awake, he would have cared enough to.”

“I don’t think he had a reason,” Ranee says, holding her daughter as closely as she can. “But it doesn’t matter.” Each of them has fallen behind, but they will wait for one another. They will never abandon the others, never stop holding out their hand to help. “When I was a child, I used to watch flocks of birds as they traveled across the sky, leaving their home for another. Without fail, one or two would always fall back.”

“What happened?” Trisha asks.

“They always found their way.” Ranee glances at Brent’s body before turning back to her daughter. “You’re going to be fine,” Ranee promises. “We all are going to be fine.” It is the first time she has ever given her word. For the first time in her life, Ranee is sure she can keep it.

Marin and Gia arrive soon after. Ranee had specifically asked for Gia to join them. No matter how desperately they tried to keep the secret, Gia has become part of their conspiracy. Having suffered from the fallout of their existence, she deserves a voice in the inheritance she has never asked for. Ranee immediately moves toward Gia, taking her grandchild into her arms. “How are you, Beti?” she asks, stroking the young girl’s hair in affection and love.

“I’m good, Mumji,” Gia answers, glancing at Marin.

“I’m sorry I missed your party,” Trisha says, coming over to join the hug. “I thought I could take you shopping? Let you choose your own birthday gifts? I’m not sure I know what a sixteen-year-old needs.” She is teasing, some of her old self filtering through the dark clouds.

“That would be great,” Gia says, sounding shy.

“Then it’s a date.”

“Are you all right?” Marin asks as Trisha moves closer to them. “Sonya said you were hurting.”

“I’m getting there,” Trisha offers, smiling. “Thank you.”

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