“I’m sorry,” I offer, meaning it.
He steps toward me, gauging my reaction. When I make no protest, he takes me in his arms, allowing my head to nestle under his. Rubbing his hand slowly over my back, he says, “I said this before, but it bears repeating. Whatever I can do, say the word.”
My body relaxes under his touch. For the first time in my life, I feel safe in a man’s arms. The thought frightens me more than anything. I know what I need to do, to say, but I allow myself a two-minute reprieve. Enough time to enjoy what he’s offering, knowing I will never have it again. We were never supposed to cross this line; I was never allowed to know this. That I initiated it, searched for him, shames me. But Gia’s situation brought forth too many memories, with them a yearning to be safe when only danger lurked.
When he runs his hand down my hair, offering me sympathy and the hint of more, I know my time is up. Stepping out of his arms, I stare at him, readying myself for the moment he hears the truth and walks away. “You want to do something?”
“Anything.”
“Let my father die,” I beg. Turning away, I head toward the elevator, feeling his disgust all the way home.
RANEE
She waited one day before going to Marin’s home, needing the time to process what Sonya had told her. Gia—beaten. Ranee stayed silent, emotionless, as Sonya conveyed the details. Only in the privacy of her own room did she fall to her knees and weep for her only grandchild. With shuddering breaths, Ranee relived the image of Gia’s birth, her toddler years, growing into a beautiful young woman. Now that beauty is forever scarred. Without seeing her, she could imagine the bruises that covered her body, the excruciating pain of a fractured rib. She knew every emotion Gia was feeling because she had felt them herself—the shame that comes with being beaten like an animal.
When she finally arrives, she comes without calling. Marin opens the door after the first ring of the bell. She’s dressed as Ranee has rarely seen her—in yoga pants and a T-shirt.
“How is she?” Ranee asks, moving past her daughter into the foyer. She has decided to wear a traditional salwar kameez for the visit, needing something familiar to get her through this. Paired with slim cotton pants, the multicolored, embroidered shirt reaches past her knees.
“Sleeping. Locked in her room.” Marin closes the door behind her. “Sonya told you.”
Something in her voice sharpens Ranee’s gaze. “You expected her not to?”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect. It’s not like we have a protocol.” Marin shrugs her shoulders. “Gia’s fine.”
“That’s what I would have thought before receiving such news.” Ranee moves toward the stairs. “I will go see for myself.”
“Mummy.” Marin’s voice holds desperation, an edge Ranee hasn’t heard since she was a child. When Ranee turns to face her, she sees Marin pull all of her hair back in a nervous gesture, gripping the strands. It was what she used to do when she came home with an A-minus or B-plus on a test, knowing Brent would soon unleash his violence. When there was nothing else to hold on to, she held on to herself. “She’s fine.”
“Yes.” Ranee’s stance softens. “She will be.”
Ranee knocks softly on her granddaughter’s door before opening it. Gia is bundled under the covers, though it is warm in the house. All the lights are off. There is an uneaten sandwich on the end table and a glass of milk. Ranee walks over and sits down on the bed, laying a hand atop Gia’s head, which peeks out from under the covers.
“Leave me alone,” Gia murmurs, anger lacing resignation.
“Is that any way to speak to your Mumji?” Ranee asks, using the traditional name for maternal grandmother that Gia calls her.