Humiliated at the panic that envelops her at the thought of her father’s demise, she remains quiet. But because Raj doesn’t ask, she is spared from forming a response. She keeps to herself that she is scared and alone. That she wants to be held but wouldn’t know what to do if he offered.
She lies down on the farthest side of the bed. With his back to her, there is no one left to face but herself. Pulling the sheet over her body, she yearns for comfort that proves inaccessible. Her mind, begging for sleep only minutes ago, now wanders. Everyone was there for her father, wondering, watching, waiting. For what, she does not know. If he lives, then they return to normal. Of course, their normal is not like everyone else’s. They each have their role and are exceptional at it. Trisha is the glue that connects the family. As the favorite, she deems it her responsibility to plan the family gatherings. As long as they break bread together, she has her illusion of a perfect family. Trisha organizes the holiday get-togethers; whether it be Diwali or Christmas, she makes sure that no one is left out. When Sonya left, Trisha seemed to take her duties even more seriously. As if she could fill the void left by the sister who decided that life was better without them than with.
Marin performs her own role with precision. She is the victory story, the example of why they came to America. The one they can point to and say, this is the reason we endured all the heartaches. While Trisha plays the role of pampered housewife, Marin continues to exemplify success. And her daughter is the next generation, the one who doesn’t carry the burdens Marin did. She is free to achieve everything—she doesn’t need to get away from any anchors.
Tired of tossing, Marin slips out of bed. She can hear Raj’s quiet snoring; he barely moves with her departure. They have never held one another at night. Both learned soon after their wedding ceremony that they preferred their own space.
With the events of the day barking at her heels, peace eludes her. Gingerly, she finds her way down the steps in the dark. In the light from the moon via the skylight, she pours a cup of milk and heats it. The steaming cup warms her hands as the darkness brings her a bit of calm. She has always preferred it to daylight. Secrets stay better hidden in darkness. Judgments fall to the wayside when there is no light to shine upon them.
The crystal clock on the mantel shows it is past midnight. A new day, but it will be similar to other days in the way that only routine can create. Everyone awake and ready on time. Cooked breakfast grabbed on the way out. Schedules intermingled as everyone heads their own way. It was never how she imagined her life would be. But then, she never imagined anything at all. Her father made all the decisions and she assumed he would determine the pattern of her daily life also.
She was thirteen when he decided her college major. He had researched the various careers and determined that finance would give the best return on his investment. It was irrelevant whether it fit Marin’s interests. That it did was lucky, though Marin would never have dared to complain. Any protests would have yielded no sympathy and, worse, might have fueled his anger. It wasn’t worth taking the chance. She took her college courses and became an expert in her field. After graduating in two and a half years, she followed up with an MBA. A guarantee for an easy ascension in her career, a career that means everything to her. A livelihood for which she has only her father to thank.
Still not ready for bed, she takes a seat on the sofa. As she curls her legs beneath her, memories from the night before her marriage begin to torment her.
As Marin watches from the hallway in front of the bathroom, Ranee places an invitation to Marin’s wedding in front of a shrine made from pictures of relatives who’ve died. She turns on all the lights in the house and plays a tape of traditional Indian music.