Trail of Broken Wings (28 page)

I follow them home, to their palace that feels like a prison. Gia chose to ride with her father. Marin said nothing as he helped her into the passenger seat and leaned over to buckle her belt, as if she were a child. Slipping off his jacket, he covered her with it, though the car was already warm from the midday sun.

Their home is only a few minutes’ drive, in the hills of Los Altos. Marin pulls into the garage first, and then Raj. I leave my car in the driveway and wait, like a stranger, at the front door for them to allow me in.

“Do you want something to eat?” Raj asks Gia, all of us standing in a circle in the foyer, offering her a ring of protection that is too late.

“No.” Gia’s face is downcast, her eyes refusing to meet anyone’s. “I just want to go to bed.” She reaches toward her neck, the movement clearly a habit. When she touches bare skin, she looks up, her face becoming frantic. “My necklace. It’s gone.”

“What?” Marin looks at Raj, her concern minor in comparison. “Did you drop it?”

“They made me take it off for the X-rays. I think I forgot it there.” To Raj she pleads. “I need my necklace, Daddy. Please.”

“I’ll call the hospital in the morning. See if they can find it.” Marin dismisses the issue without further discussion, her mind clearly elsewhere. “Gia, we need to talk about what happened today.”

“Dada gave it to me,” Gia bites out, ignoring Marin’s dictate. She finally meets her mother’s eyes. “I can’t lose it.”

“If we weren’t in this situation, you never would have lost it,” Marin returns, a cold edge in her voice.

“Marin,” Raj retorts, his voice holding a warning that fails to back her down. “Not now.”

“Is there a better time?” Marin demands, seemingly having forgotten my presence. Her anger is understandable. For so long, my sister has fought to create the perfect life. Gia was Marin’s future and now it lies in shambles around her.

“I’ll go get it,” I say, interrupting the dead silence that has descended. “The necklace,” I explain when Marin turns to me in confusion. I am a voyeur watching a family’s breakdown, unable to help. “I can drive back there now and find it.” I meet Gia’s eyes, hoping to convey warmth and love for the niece I barely know. “How about that?”

Gia nods. “Thank you. He gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday. Told me it would bring me luck.” Her reminiscing reminds me she is still a child, her innocence destroyed way too young. “It’s my favorite.”

I can’t help myself; I look to Marin, trying to reconcile the man Gia is talking about with the one I know. But Marin avoids my eyes, as if she is fully aware of the dichotomy but has failed to find an explanation. “I’ll call you as soon as I find it.”

The necklace is right where Gia thought it would be. In my hand it feels light, a gold chain with a figurine of a small bird in flight. Tucking it into a pocket of my purse, I text Marin to let her know I have it and will deliver it first thing tomorrow.

Restless, I begin to walk the halls of the hospital that have become so familiar to me in a short period of time. The corridors are already emptying out, the night staff not nearly as large as the day. Bored on one floor, I take the stairs to another and then another, walking until my feet are exhausted. At last I come to where I have been headed from the beginning, the hallway that houses David’s office. Each door is closed, shut for the night. I know I am foolish to seek him out and chide myself. Turning to leave, I hear his door open.

“Hey.” David says, shocked to see me. “What are you doing here?”

I was hoping to find you
, a small voice whispers in my head. But a louder one, the one that dictates every move I make, refuses it an audience. “Gia forgot her necklace in Radiology,” I mumble. “I came back for it.” I pull it out of my purse, to prove to him that I wasn’t searching for him, that I wasn’t, for the first time in my life, hoping for a lighthouse in the storm. “I was just on my way home.”

He doesn’t mention that Radiology is three floors down. That there is no reason for me to be on this floor or that Radiology closed over an hour ago and if I were on my way home I should already be gone. He says none of this but instead, “Come with me.”

“Where?”

He motions for me to follow him into the elevator, where he uses his badge to swipe a security strip allowing him access to the roof. We stand a few feet apart, both silently watching the floor numbers light up until the doors open. He steps out first, reaching back with his hand for mine. I glance at it and then at him. His eyes, patient, unwavering, wait for my decision. I think of Gia, her pain, and feel helplessness wash over me. Slipping my hand into his, I cross the threshold of the elevator and onto the roof.

“Watch your step,” he says, leading me toward the edge of the roof where there are cement blocks to lean against. Keeping my hand tucked into his, he uses his other one to point toward the sky. “When I was little, my dad used to bring me up here. When he would lose a
patient or had a bad day, we would sit in this very place and he would point out all the stars. He even knew their names.”

“Now you do the same,” I say, knowing without a doubt he does.

“Makes me remember I’m not all that.” He offers me a small smile, holding my gaze. “Sometimes things happen that don’t make sense.”

Tears fill my eyes, but I refuse them. Breaking his gaze, I tug my hand from his. I point to a cluster of stars. “Cassiopeia.”

“Her husband Cepheus,” he points out.

“There’s the Big Dipper.” I rotate, taking in as much as I can. “And Orion.”

“You know your constellations.” His voice holds admiration.

“Doesn’t everybody?” I ask, tongue in cheek. We both fall silent. I can feel his eyes on me, watching. “She’s fifteen,” I finally whisper. “Just a baby.”

“We have girls younger than her come into the Trauma Unit.” He offers me medical statistics to explain we are not at the end of the road, no matter what we believe. “The drama in the relationship, in the abuse, attracts them. A warped definition of love.” He bends down, holding my gaze. “Gia’s going to get through this. Your family will get her through this.”

He is sure as only someone so naive could be. I imagine telling him that it is impossible for us to get through this. That abuse is cyclical, in our genes. No matter how hard we fight, we can’t escape it. I know; I’ve tried. “Yes.”

“Sonya.” My name sounds torn from his lips, as if he’s absorbed my pain and made it his. “I’m sorry.” The physician is gone, replaced by a man. “Your father, Gia.” He reaches out, brushing an imaginary strand of hair off my face and over my ear. “No one deserves so much heartbreak.”

“What’s the worst thing that has ever happened to you?” I demand, still feeling his fingertips on my face. For just a minute I need to know we are not the only ones hurt, that others know the definition of pain.

His confusion is obvious, but he answers me nonetheless. “I lost my grandmother and grandfather when I was fifteen. One illness after the next.” He resists the details.

“You loved them?” I ask quietly.

“Completely.” He looks toward the sky, as if searching for them in the distance. “They took care of me when my parents worked. They were like second parents.”

“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.

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
.”