Gia lowers the blanket and turns to stare at her grandmother. Her hair is knotted and her face blotched from tears. When Ranee switches on the bedside lamp, Gia blinks, trying to adjust from the darkness to the light. “What are you doing here, Mumji?”
“I came to see you.”
Sitting up, Gia lowers her face and pulls up her knees, like a child. “Mom told you.”
“Actually, it was your Sonya masi.” Ranee runs her hand over Gia’s hair, trying to smooth what she can. “She is very worried about you. All of us are.”
“I’m fine.”
Ranee wants to smile. She can hear in Gia’s voice the same insistence she heard in Marin’s. Their similarities are striking, though neither mother nor daughter can see it. “That is not what I see.”
“You wouldn’t understand, Mumji,” Gia says, for the first time speaking back to Ranee. “It’s teenager stuff.”
“When did you start dating? Hmm?” Ranee cups Gia’s cheek in her palm. “I don’t remember the family meeting to give approval.”
Fighting a smile, Gia fails. “I don’t need the family’s approval.”
“Ah, see that is where you are mistaken.” Ranee can remember her own family and the struggle whether to approve her meeting Brent in the open, with chaperones, before their marriage. Her mother feared her reputation would be tainted. Taking Gia’s hand now, she lightly traces the veins with her finger. “Feel the blood? That is the same blood that is in me, in your mother, in Sonya masi, in Trisha masi. So whatever you do, whatever happens to you, it affects all of us, because you have our blood.” She holds Gia’s face gently in her palms, staring directly into her eyes. “Your mother and her sisters came from my womb and you came from your mother’s. You are ours, my darling.”
Gia allows a lone tear to fall. “I love him so much. And now . . .”
“He hit you. He hurt you. How is that love?” She asked herself the same question for years. But Brent was able to convince her because she had already convinced herself.
“He was sweet. He would slip notes inside my locker, telling me how beautiful I was.” Gia’s face fills with the memories, showing the first signs of happiness. “He’s gorgeous, Mumji. And popular. All the girls wanted him but he wanted me.” Gia tightens her fingers around Ranee’s hand. “He didn’t care if I was smart or perfect, he liked me.”
When Marin was first born, she would cry when she needed something, like all babies do. If she was hungry, or if she had soiled her cloth diaper, she would begin with a whimper and if Ranee did not respond immediately, it would turn to a full cry. As she got older, Marin always used her tears to get what she wanted. Until Brent started to hit her. Then Ranee never saw another tear fall.
“And when he hit you?” Ranee asks.
Gia drops Ranee’s hand immediately, shuttering herself off. “He’s new at school. His parents expect a lot out of him. He doesn’t mean to hurt me. He loves me.” Gia pauses, waiting to deliver the blow that Ranee could never have expected. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, Dada used to hit Mom, right?”
With Gia’s revelation, Ranee falls silent. She stares at her granddaughter, wondering how and when she learned the truth. She tries to ask, but the words never make it past her throat. Each syllable sticks, blocking any noise. She pats Gia, as if she were a wayward child, and makes her way to the door and out. She goes down the stairs slowly, each step a descent into hell. Her hand grips the banister in her fear she might miss a step and tumble down.
She stands on the bottom step, trying to remember the last few minutes when Marin walks out of her office. “Mummy?” Marin rushes to her side. “What’s wrong?”
“She knows,” Ranee whispers, unable to meet Marin’s eyes. “She knows.”