Trail of Broken Wings (44 page)

I cringe at the thought of saying aloud what happened to me. Sonya and I have lain awake for hours talking about it. She has given me a shoulder to cry on, offered me a safe place to speak without worry about judgment or condemnation. When I told her that I still loved Papa, even as I reviled him, she nodded in understanding. When I told her I still loved Eric, she said she would be surprised if I didn’t.

“He’s a good man,” she said. “And he loves you.” She got a faraway look. “You’re very lucky you found him.”

I didn’t tell her what I fear—that I have lost Eric’s love forever. That what I had is in the past, no matter how much I still wish for it, it is gone. “Have you ever been in love?” She has never mentioned anyone to me, never given any indication she has given her heart to another.

“I don’t know what love is,” she answered. “But you do. You’re very lucky.”

As I stand now in my empty home, I don’t feel so lucky. I grimace, my life so different from what I have always imagined. Grabbing the stack of mail that was stuffed into the mailbox, I start to sort through the junk mail and the bills that continue to come in. A large manila envelope addressed to me grabs my attention. When I read the return address, I start to feel my own heart beating. It’s from Eric’s lawyers.

I tear open the seal slowly and pull out the thin sheaf of papers. In clear and distinct language it lays out the divorce agreement between Eric and me. As I demanded, there is no alimony, no division of property. Everything we came into the marriage with we still own. Everything else is Eric’s. All that is required to make it official is our
signatures. Mine first, and then I send it back to the lawyer for Eric’s. The attorney will be kind enough to do the rest. Dropping the papers onto the envelope they came in, I walk away, unable to sign.

Mama asked us all to meet at the hospital. She didn’t give us a reason, just scheduled a time and told each of us it was critical. I was hesitant at first, unwilling to see Papa. I haven’t seen him since I learned the truth, since I learned what he did to me, against me. But I can’t hide. If I do, then he has won. There is a part of me he has taken; if I run, I allow him to keep the power, to keep me in the place he put me.

He is still as he has been since he arrived here—no emotion, no capacity to speak. Where before I would have smoothed out his sheet, run my hands through his hair to straighten it, now I keep my distance. I stare at him from afar, seeing a stranger in a face that is as familiar as my own.

“Why, Papa?” I whisper. “How could you do such a thing to me?”

If he were awake, if he were able to communicate, I wonder how he would respond. What rationalization could he create for his actions? Maybe he would apologize to me, beg for forgiveness that I can’t give. Salvation is not his to demand, not from me, now or ever.

“I loved you unconditionally,” I tell him, though he already knows. All this time I have spoken to him on every visit, hoping my words of love and hope would wake him, bring him back. Now I need him to hear my anguish, feel the pain he has caused. It is all that is between us—questions with no answers. “I was so grateful to you.”

The admission gives me pause. I had never seen it that way before; instead, I assumed that his love for me was deserved, that I was deemed worthy, while the rest didn’t measure up. But it was not so, my own mind deceiving me. It was gratitude; I convinced myself I owed him for loving me. No child should ever feel such a thing. A family should
be connected by love and appreciation for what every person brings into the relationship. A unity of hearts and souls, where fear has no place.

“You are lost. You always have been. And you tried so hard . . .” I pause. Biting my lip, I stare out the window, over the bedsheet that covers him. “To make sure we lost ourselves. But it didn’t happen, Papa. Somehow, some way I am going to survive,” I say with a certainty I don’t yet feel.

RANEE

It is time to say good-bye.

In Hinduism, no event, no matter how small, can occur without consulting an astrology source to gauge whether it is a good time. Before an engagement, parents consult with a priest to determine if the two people who are to be married have good energy, based on their birth times and dates, that can be matched for a fulfilling life. Marriage plans are made and broken based on the results. A child’s time of birth can lead a family to rejoice or despair. A child born during a dark period is sure to lead to hard times for the mother, whereas a lucky time will bring great fortune and happiness to the family.

Celebrations, rituals, travel are all decided based on the time that is most propitious. If an occasion occurs during a dark time, then pujas are held where the gurus, around a fire and statues of the gods, chant mantras and prayers that will help ward off all potential evil.

Ranee, like every other believer, checked her astrological calendar religiously, never daring to hold an event unless the stars were aligned to guarantee happiness. It was that way with the generation before her and every generation prior to that. It was the way it was done, as natural as breathing.

This time, though, Ranee did not check the calendar. Nor did she meet with a guru who would tell her the most auspicious time for the event to take place. She couldn’t foresee finding the right moment to unplug Brent’s life support, to cut off all oxygen to him so he could leave this world, freeing Ranee and her daughters at last. Instead, haste was the conductor, the one who determined when it would happen.

But as much as Ranee wants it done already, she accepts it is no longer her decision alone. All three of her daughters are finally together, with her, and she will not disrespect them by failing to give them the voice they have earned. They lived through him—it is up to them when he should die. There is no calendar to consult, no time that proves better than another. No stars have aligned to protect her three girls; fate has failed to intervene. Their combined voice is now more powerful than the universe’s, their strength earned from having survived. They will do this now because it is past time for them to say good-bye.

When Ranee arrives at the room, she assumes she will be first, since she’s come earlier than the time she designated. She is surprised when she sees Trisha standing by the window, her back to where Brent lies on the bed.

“Beti,” Ranee exclaims, going over to wrap her arm around her daughter’s waist. “You’re here early.” When Trisha returned to her own house, it left Ranee’s quieter, emptier than she thought possible. Odd, she never missed Brent’s presence, but Trisha’s departure left the home barren, even though Sonya was still there.

“I needed to see him,” Trisha admits, turning fully into her mother’s arms. “To ask him why.”

“What did he say?” Ranee asks, unsure. Somehow, they would have to find their way, and, maybe, by holding one another’s hands along the charred trail, each of them would find their own path to healing.

“He didn’t answer.” Trisha sobs the obvious. “But you know what?” She pulls away, facing Ranee, “I don’t think, even if he were awake, he would have cared enough to.”

“I don’t think he had a reason,” Ranee says, holding her daughter as closely as she can. “But it doesn’t matter.” Each of them has fallen behind, but they will wait for one another. They will never abandon the others, never stop holding out their hand to help. “When I was a child, I used to watch flocks of birds as they traveled across the sky, leaving their home for another. Without fail, one or two would always fall back.”

“What happened?” Trisha asks.

“They always found their way.” Ranee glances at Brent’s body before turning back to her daughter. “You’re going to be fine,” Ranee promises. “We all are going to be fine.” It is the first time she has ever given her word. For the first time in her life, Ranee is sure she can keep it.

Marin and Gia arrive soon after. Ranee had specifically asked for Gia to join them. No matter how desperately they tried to keep the secret, Gia has become part of their conspiracy. Having suffered from the fallout of their existence, she deserves a voice in the inheritance she has never asked for. Ranee immediately moves toward Gia, taking her grandchild into her arms. “How are you, Beti?” she asks, stroking the young girl’s hair in affection and love.

“I’m good, Mumji,” Gia answers, glancing at Marin.

“I’m sorry I missed your party,” Trisha says, coming over to join the hug. “I thought I could take you shopping? Let you choose your own birthday gifts? I’m not sure I know what a sixteen-year-old needs.” She is teasing, some of her old self filtering through the dark clouds.

“That would be great,” Gia says, sounding shy.

“Then it’s a date.”

“Are you all right?” Marin asks as Trisha moves closer to them. “Sonya said you were hurting.”

“I’m getting there,” Trisha offers, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Maybe we could spend some time together soon? Talk?” Marin asks.

“I would like that,” Trisha answers, giving her sister’s hand a squeeze.

“Good.” Marin turns toward Ranee, her voice gentler, kinder than before. “Why did you call us here? Is there news on his condition?”

“No,” Ranee begins, just as David enters. “Ah, here is the gentleman I was waiting for. Dr. Ford.”

“Good to see everyone,” David says, offering them a smile.

“Thank you for meeting with us.” Ranee glances around. “Sonya is not here yet. I wonder if we could wait just a few minutes? She said she would be here.”

There are nods and murmurs of agreement.

“Where is Raj?” Ranee asks Marin.

“He’s waiting downstairs.” Marin glances at Gia, who is staring at the floor. Ranee understands immediately—Raj drove them to the hospital to be with his daughter. “Since you only asked me and Gia to the meeting, he wanted to give us privacy.”

Ranee nods. “That was kind of him.”

Just as the room falls silent, Sonya bursts in, harried. “Sorry I’m late,” she murmurs, her gaze encompassing the room. When her eyes fall on David, she visibly tenses. Ranee turns toward the doctor, who has locked eyes with her youngest. Startled, Ranee turns back toward Sonya who, in seconds, has shuttered her outward emotions, as if refusing to reveal any more. “It looks like everyone is here.”

“Yes,” Ranee murmurs, tucking away this new revelation for later. “I asked everyone to meet here so we can move forward with your father’s situation.”

“I don’t understand,” Sonya says, speaking for everyone. “Has there been a change?” She automatically turns toward David before seeming to catch herself.

“I want to remove the life support,” Ranee answers. “Let him go.”

The room falls silent, each of her daughters obviously lost in her own thoughts, her own memories. Ranee watches them carefully, the
three women she bore and raised. How many mistakes she has made, how many wrong turns, her only excuse being she didn’t know which way was the right one. This would not rectify that, would not make the past disappear, but it might give them a chance to begin again.

“Why now, Mumji?” asks Gia, the first one to break the silence.

“So we can heal, Beti. Together,” Ranee answers, trying not to reveal too much in front of the doctor. “What do you think?” She knows Gia loved her Dada. He gave her what he failed to offer anyone else—unconditional love.

“Yes,” Marin answers before Gia can. “If it’s a decision to be made, then I say yes.” Her voice is strong, sure.

“Yes,” Trisha murmurs, her answer barely audible. “If there’s any part of him that can hear us, he has to know it’s time.”

Sonya slips her hand into Trisha’s. “I agree.” Ranee doesn’t ask on which point; it doesn’t matter. She has given her vote—they are unanimous.

“Doctor, please tell us what is the next step.”

Before David can answer, explain how to take away the life of someone who had taken so much, Gia speaks up. “I vote no,” she calls out, willing everyone to hear her. “I don’t want him to die.”

“Gia,” Marin starts, but her daughter refuses to listen.

“He’s my grandfather. He’s a good man. I love him so much,” she cries. “Why is everyone so ready to do this? He could still come out of it. We could have him back, and then everything will be fine again.”