They are silent on the drive home, everyone still processing the scene in the hospital. Marin sits quietly next to Raj while he drives, a rare departure from her giving him directions at every turn. She yearns to speak to Gia, to ask her about her decision, her vote, but no words feel like the right ones. From the side-view mirror she sees Gia’s earplugs in, imagines music is blasting through them. Stealing a glance at Raj, she sees his face set, his concentration on the road.
They have come a long way from the day they circled the fire seven times to bind them together in marriage. The wedding took place in a church hall her parents rented for the occasion. A makeshift gazebo was built inside, where the Brahmin conducting the ceremony could sit and recite the vows in front of the five hundred members of the Indian community who had come to bear witness. If pushed, Marin can only remember a dozen or so names of the attendees—most of the guests were her parents’ friends, not hers.
“Thank you for today,” Marin says, startling Raj. “I know you had work.” It is the only thing she can say to convey her appreciation.
“I did it for Gia,” Raj explains quietly, glancing at their daughter in the backseat. “I wanted to be there for her.”
“Right.” Marin turns back toward the window, watching the trees fly by on the ride home. On the day they married, Marin assumed it was forever, because the culture dictated it be so. She didn’t factor in love or care for the other person; it was a marriage of equals, brought together to raise a family and offer support through the years. Brilliant, when Marin thought about it. Businesses could learn from the practice.
Two people whose résumés, backgrounds, and accomplishments had to match before even being allowed to meet. After, even more pieces were required to fit. Looks had to match. A dark-skinned individual couldn’t dream of landing a light-skinned partner. A heavy person could only hope for someone equal or heavier to be matched with. Each factor considered with excruciating detail before the match was blessed by both families. But love was never an element mentioned or discussed. It was assumed, because when everything else fits, love should follow.
But it didn’t. Marin can accept that now. She never fell in love with Raj. Never needed him like you should someone you love. Never thought of him above herself or considered his needs more important than hers. She did exactly what was expected of her when the marriage was decided—she merged with him to create a perfect union. A home and life filled with all the luxuries hard work could offer. A daughter molded to perfection, her every step ahead of others. But love’s absence took its toll. Without it to bind, the connection proved too fragile, too susceptible to breakage. They each stood separate, only familiarity and comfort keeping them in the same place.
Gia’s cry to save her grandfather was instinctive, born from a place where love was the inspiration. She faced all of them without fear, saying whatever was necessary to give him another day, another chance to come back to them. She couldn’t lose him, she said. Because she loves him. Marin wanted to scream at her daughter that her grandfather is incapable of love, that he has shown her a version of himself that doesn’t really exist.
A master magician, Brent created a fantasy for Gia to believe in, a trick of the mind to serve his own purpose. Another means for him to feel needed, to feel special. But Gia wasn’t privy to any evidence that would reveal his hand, and that was Marin’s fault. Desperate to create an illusion, for her own sake and for Gia’s, she hid the truth from her only child. And if Ranee was right, that was because Marin didn’t trust that Gia would love her for who she was, past the chimera she had created. Marin didn’t love her true self enough to believe someone else could love her too.
“Gia?” Marin knocks on the door gently, opening it a crack to peek in. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Beti?”
“About school?” Gia asks warily.
“No, nothing to do with school, I promise.” Marin enters completely, shutting the door behind her. She swallows her nervousness, tries to rein in her fear. “There’s something I want to tell you, that I should have told you a long time ago.”