Trail of Broken Wings

“I have an IUD,” she finally admits, too lost in her alcohol stupor to censor her admission. “So that I wouldn’t get pregnant.”


I reach her house. Pulling into the driveway, I keep the car running. The headlights illuminate the house, a mansion by anyone’s standards. The yard is immaculate and a small white fence lines the tulip garden. A “Welcome” sign adorns the door, as does a brass knocker to announce one’s arrival. “He wanted it out?” I ask, trying to make sense of her words.

“You can’t change what you don’t know,” she says, staring at her home. “I lied to him, Sonya. But then he found out and now he’s gone.”





MARIN

Five steps before she reaches the school, Marin stops, unsure. The day is beautiful, warm, and breezy. Quintessential California. The weather offers a false sense of security—with so much beauty you assume nothing bad can ever happen. Her childhood was proof that wasn’t true. Nonetheless, she convinced herself. Fell for the false sale. Now, she knows for sure. It is not just the dark that brings out the darkness. Daylight has its own form of hell.

Marin doesn’t allow fear to make her falter. Reaching the front door, she walks in with a confidence she doesn’t feel. A lesson learned from childhood—if you put on a good show, people will believe. Marin lost track of the visits to the nurse for pain in her stomach when she was a child. A simple examination would have revealed the bruises, but the school nurse accepted Marin’s insistence she was learning to digest American fare.

“Marin.” Karen is in the office when she enters. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

After returning home from Amber’s, neither Raj nor Marin mentioned their visit to Gia. That night they fell asleep with a gulf between them. Enough room for the heartbreak that had settled into their lives. “Gia forgot her science book,” Marin says. She had actually pulled it out of Gia’s backpack seconds before she left for school. It was the only excuse Marin could create to follow through on her plan. “Since she has science after lunch, I thought I would drop it off.”

“Of course.” Karen holds out her hand. “We’d be happy to take it to her.”

“I’m fine. It’ll give me a chance to say hello,” Marin continues the lie seamlessly.

Karen glances around them, cognizant of other parents in and out of the office. “Why don’t we speak in my office?” Once there, she closes the door behind them. “I’ve been meaning to call you but wanted to give your family some time.”

“We appreciate it,” Marin says, holding her cards close. “As you can assume, it was a shock.” Always a professional, she keeps her words clipped and sure.

“Of course. You spoke to Gia?”

“Yes.” Marin weighs her options, each one weightier than the last. There is no right answer here, she is sure. Instead, she chooses the easiest, the one to get her where she wants to go. “She refuses to tell us anything.”

“I see.” Karen fails to mask her disappointment. “I was hoping for more.” She goes behind her desk and opens a drawer. Pulling out a Rolodex, she flips through it until she finds the card she is searching for. Handing it to Marin, she says, “An excellent child psychologist. One trained to deal with abuse. I would highly recommend you call her.”

Marin takes the card and tucks it into her purse. She has no plans to call a psychologist or psychiatrist to help her with her daughter. She will handle this herself. “Thank you,” she says. “I appreciate the reference.” She glances at the time. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I better get this book to Gia before lunch is over and classes resume.”

“Marin,” Karen says, coming to stand beside her. “I mentioned to you last time I was required by law to contact child services.”

With all that happened that day, Marin has forgotten.

“As an administrator it is my first priority to protect the children in the school,” Karen continues. “I would never try to overstep my place—”

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