Trail of Broken Wings (42 page)

Gia insisted she didn’t want a party, even begged her parents to cancel it. But Marin forged ahead, getting caught up in the arrangements. The planning took up most of her time, leaving little room for her to think about much else. Feeling an inexplicable shame about her visit to her father’s hospital room and the tears she shed, she buried the memory under work and the party.

What was initially supposed to be ten to fifteen girls ended up being over a hundred and twenty guests, adults and girls both. Marin hired a party planner and had tents set up in the backyard. She reviewed the menu and changed it three times before settling on casual fare. She was sure to include some of Gia’s favorites, along with a variety of other items. A live DJ and entertainment finalized the plans.

“You don’t think it’s a bit much?” Raj asks now, during one of their rare conversations.

“It’s her sixteenth,” Marin replies. “She only has one of those.”

“Right.” Raj sips his iced tea, watching the tents going up in the backyard as workers file in and out of their home. “She hasn’t been down all morning.”

“Getting ready, likely,” Marin decides, keeping an eye out for the caterer. “She’ll be down soon enough.” She starts to leave, but Raj stops her.

“What are you hoping to accomplish with this large a gathering?” Raj asks quietly.

“That our daughter will know how much we love her,” Marin answers tersely, taking her leave to check on the setup. As everything falls into place, the guests start to arrive. First Ranee and Sonya. Trisha is nowhere to be seen. Marin hasn’t encountered her since they exchanged words at Trisha’s house. With all that happened since, Marin hasn’t had
the time to think about it. Now she wonders what she missed in the ensuing time.

Leaving the place settings to the planner, Marin approaches her family. “Thanks for coming,” she murmurs. “Where is Trisha?” She directs her question to both Sonya and Ranee.

In India as children, Marin and Trisha were close. Trisha was the little sister Marin cared for when Ranee was busy or off running errands. Their house was filled with Dalits cleaning and cooking meals for mere pennies a day. But the Dalits weren’t allowed to touch infants for fear of marking them with their inferiority. As a result, Marin was often called on to babysit her younger sister.

Marin would feed Trisha the smashed-up vegetables the Dalits prepared, and then swing her in a cotton hammock while she read her storybooks to lull her to sleep. On the flight to America, Trisha spent almost the whole time on Marin’s lap, as her older sister stared out the window at the clouds below, wondering if the ones over America would be different from the ones over India.

Once they landed and Brent couldn’t find a job, things started to change. His interest in Marin’s education became obsessive, while his attitude toward Trisha was one of love and concern. By treating his two daughters differently, he created the fault line that existed to this day. It was the only explanation for their relationship. Without realizing it, Marin began to hate the little sister she had loved so much. To envy her the affection she received, so unlike the hatred directed toward Marin. Her father placed no demands on Trisha to be anything except who she was, while Marin had to mold herself to whatever Brent deemed worthy.

Trisha’s natural beauty earned her even more accolades, making her the star in everyone’s eyes. Marin and Trisha were the pride of the family, community members crowed. Marin’s smarts and Trisha’s beauty made Ranee and Brent fortunate indeed. Members of the samaj never bothered to mention Sonya, who stood to the side, her heavy tummy
hanging over the tight hand-me-down pants she was forced to wear. With neither brains nor looks, she was tossed to the side as unnecessary.

“She’s not here,” Sonya answers now, while Ranee looks away, biting her lip.

“Why?” Marin was confident that, of all the guests, Trisha would most appreciate the work that Marin had done to ensure a successful party. Having thrown so many herself, she could relate to the time and energy spent on it. “It’s not because of what happened? At the house?”

“No,” Sonya is quick to assure her. Marin glances at Ranee, who remains silent. “She’s going through a hard time right now.”

“Because of Eric,” Marin assumes, angry that Trisha wouldn’t show up. To Marin, she is breaking a sacrilegious rule, one created in childhood that demands no matter what hardship any of them are enduring, they still have to put on a happy face. If for no other reason than to convince the world to continue believing that they are fine.

“No, not because of Eric.” Sonya and Ranee share a glance, a silent message clearly passing between the two. “She’s barely eating. Sleeps all day,” Sonya finally says. She runs her hand down the length of her sundress, as if she’s uncomfortable with the attire. Now that Marin thinks about it, she has never seen her sister in anything other than jeans and T-shirts. A way to hide herself from the world. “She could use both her sisters right now.”

“What happened?” Marin asks, glancing around to gauge the number of guests that have arrived. She wants to keep talking to Sonya, to understand what her sister is dealing with. “Don’t speak to me in puzzles, please. Is it about not having children?”

“No,” Sonya says, a ghost of a smile haunting. “If it were only so easy.” Lowering her voice, she glances around as if to make sure no one can overhear. “It’s her story to tell,” Sonya says. “But she was hurt, very badly.”

“By whom?” Marin demands, unsure what had happened that could cause Sonya to be so serious.

“Dad,” Sonya says, shocking Marin. It is the last person whose name she expected to hear.

“I don’t understand.” Marin can’t imagine a scenario where he could hurt Trisha. “What are you talking about?”

“Ask her. I know you have a lot on your plate, but one day, when you have some time, ask her.” Sonya reaches out, takes Marin’s hand. “What happened between the two of you at the house, she didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” Marin did; deep in her heart she understood. It was rare for one of them to lash out. They were so used to keeping their thoughts and feelings in check. When one of them did explode, there was a reason. A volcano that had stayed silent for too long had to erupt, spewing lava, a trembling the only clue of what was coming.

When they were young, Marin would catch Sonya staring at other children crying and throwing tantrums. She would watch as parents consoled them rather than punishing them for daring to share their emotions. As a family, they were never allowed to display anything except obedience. Any emotion they had was always second to Brent’s.

“Why are you defending her?” Marin asks quietly, curious. “It wasn’t your fight.”

“Because it is. We’re all in the same battle, always have been.” Sonya stares down at the grass before facing Marin. “I don’t know if I ever knew that. I just hope it’s not too late.”

Marin starts to mingle with the arriving guests, her concern for Trisha slipping to the back of her mind. She busies herself with welcoming people to her home, ensuring the waitstaff offers everyone a drink and an appetizer to munch on. Belatedly, she realizes Gia hasn’t made an appearance. Searching through the crowd, she looks for her but comes up empty. There aren’t any signs of Raj either.

Quickly making her way into the house and up the stairs, she throws open Gia’s door to find Raj and Gia on the bed. Gia is still in her pajamas and Raj is quietly speaking to her.

“What are you doing?” Marin exclaims, keeping her voice down so no one else will hear. “The house is filled with people for your party, and you’re sitting in your room?”

“I never asked for the party,” Gia says quietly, glancing at Raj for support. “I’m not ready to face all these people.” Her lower lip quivers, revealing her helplessness.

“Yes, you are,” Marin says, refusing to coddle her. “This is your opportunity to show everyone you are fine, that you will be back on your feet in no time.”

“That’s what matters to you?” Gia asks in obvious disbelief. “What people think?”

“Did you think you could live your life in here?” Marin asks. She comes to stand next to the bed, reaches out to caress Gia’s hair. “It doesn’t work that way, Beti,” Marin explains. “Whether you like it or not, you have to live in a society. How that society perceives you will determine your place in life.” Marin begins to rifle through Gia’s closet, searching for clothes. Finding a suitable sundress, she pulls it out and offers it to Gia. “You look beautiful in this one.” She offers Gia a smile. “Come, Beti, everyone you love is downstairs waiting.”

“No,” Gia corrects, “not everyone.” She fidgets in her bed. “Not Adam.”

Marin starts to correct her, but Raj interrupts, stopping her before she does more damage. “Marin,” he says warily, his voice sounding strained. “It’s her birthday. Let’s table this, shall we?” He takes the dress out of Marin’s hand. “Gia, you are sixteen now. More than capable of picking your own clothes, am I right?” Softening his voice, he prods, “Get ready and come down, Beti. Your mom is right, everyone is waiting for you.”

In every culture, there is a coming of age. Marin has attended a number of bat and bar mitzvahs of colleagues’ children. At thirteen, they are assumed adults, and the welcoming ceremony is an elaborate party after years of learning Hebrew and Jewish transcript. From then on, they are deemed responsible for their own actions in the eyes of the community and the religion. Marin has heard of debutante parties in the American South, where a mature girl is introduced as a woman to eligible bachelors. In the southern region of India, a small subset threw parties when their daughters began having their periods. An intimate gathering of close friends to celebrate the transition from girlhood to womanhood.

No matter what the age, reason, or belief system, a coming-of-age party was meant for the individual who had passed the milestone and also for the parents who must now see their child in a different light. The child was no longer a baby to be held or guided, but instead his or her own person on the verge of adulthood. After the celebration, they would make their own decisions, have their own emotions, and seek guidance only when they deemed it necessary.

Growing up, Marin had seen her friends experience the events that transitioned them from child to adult. She envied them their bridges, their confidence in walking across them and over the threshold to the other side. She instinctively knew that only one event would free her from the chains her father had shackled her with—her marriage. No other moment or natural event would cause him to see her as the woman she was, allow her to be her own person. She was his until the night of her marriage, when she became someone else’s. Only then would he release her, but by then, it was too late. She was already his creation, and nothing would free her from that.

But Marin would give her daughter what she didn’t have—a celebration for her coming of age. A few hours where everything would be good, a party filled with joy and laughter as Gia embarked on a new stage in her life.

Gia enters the party dressed in a pair of capris and a T-shirt. It’s not the attire Marin prefers, but she’s happy her daughter has showed up. The band plays music while guests mingle with one another. Marin makes a point to speak with each of the attendees, keeping an eye on Gia from a distance. She seems fine, even taking time to talk to some of her friends from school. Marin can imagine they are asking her what is going on and when and if she’s returning to school.

The guests talk for hours. The party is a success, just as Marin had hoped. From a distance, Marin sees Gia’s joy in being around her friends. It’s exactly what Marin had anticipated, why she had gone to such great lengths to organize it. They bring out the cake, and Gia blows out her sixteen candles.

“Make a wish, Beti,” Marin says, wondering what Gia is hoping for when she shuts her eyes and does as her mother asked.

Night falls and the California bugs begin to bite. Guests start to take their leave, each one thanking both Raj and Marin for a lovely evening. Ranee and Sonya stay, helping the crew to clean up. When only a handful of people remain, just as Marin is saying good-bye to them, a hush falls over the group.

“Don’t make a scene, Marin,” Raj cautions, walking toward her.

“What are you talking about?” Marin demands, still in the dark. Only when Ranee and Sonya join them does Marin see what is going on.

“I assume that’s Adam?” Sonya murmurs, pointing to Gia, who is embracing him.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Ignoring Raj, Marin makes her way to Gia. Raj follows, close on her heels. Upon reaching Adam, Marin pulls Gia away. “You have some nerve,” she bites out. “There’s a restraining order against you.” She holds tightly to Gia’s arm, even as her daughter struggles to be let loose. “I look forward to seeing you locked away.”

“I invited him,” Gia says, finally succeeding in freeing herself. She takes her place between Marin and Adam, a wall of defense. “It’s my birthday party. I can have over whomever I want.”

“Call the police,” Marin orders Raj, her gaze locked with Gia’s. “Gia, you have no idea what you are doing.”

“I just came to wish Gia happy birthday,” Adam says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m not trying to cause trouble.”