The sound of Rachel’s footsteps resonates in my ears, and I can’t help the smile that possesses my lips.
“Hey.”
She kneels next to me, bringing with her the scent of strawberries and lifting my mood instantly.
“So, I noticed something, and I know your mom.” She’s whispering. “There’s a lasagna on the counter.”
“Okay?” I place another log inside the stove, concentrating on placing it in the optimal position.
“I think it stayed there all night. It looks like your mom’s lasagna.” I hum to let her know I’m still listening. “She probably let it cool overnight or something, despite me warning her countless times about leaving food out like this.”
“Uh-huh?” My log falls, so I grab the fire poker to play around with it.
“Karan.” Rachel’s hand on my forearm pulls me out of my focus, and I look into her eyes. “I don’t give a shit if anyone else feels comfortable eating that lasagna, but I just want to make sure she doesn’t try to feed it to the boys for lunch. Okay?”
“Oh. Yeah, okay.” I kiss Rachel’s forehead, putting the new to-do at the forefront of my mind. “I’ll talk to her, okay?”
Rachel gives me a small smile. “Okay. Great.”
I don’t waste any time once I’ve filled up the fire stove to my liking and go looking for Mom. She’s at the table with Dad, holding his hand and nursing a steaming mug of coffee. Dad’s got his nose in a newspaper while Mom is bent over a jigsaw puzzle.
“Need help with that?” I ask as I sit to Mom’s left and pick up a piece of the puzzle.
She looks up at me with a sweet smile. “You know I’ll never say no to that.”
For a few moments, we don’t talk, instead focusing on the puzzle. After successfully placing a third piece, I look at my parents’ clasped hands.
My heart leaps to my throat at the way my father’s thumb gently strokes Mom’s palm. So many years together—so many challenges they’ve had to overcome, thrown at them by the hands of time—and they’re still so very much in love.
They made it work. From what Mom has told me, it was far from easy in the beginning of their relationship. Her aunt, her only remaining living family, absolutely abhorred the idea of her niece dating an Indian immigrant. Dad did everything right, showering her aunt with respect and gifts, proving to her that he could provide for her niece, but she could never stop seeing him as anOther.
If the two of them made it work with the world rooting against them, there’s no reason Rachel and I can’t repair what we have. No reason at all.
But I didn’t come to the table to admire my parents’ showcase of love.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, breaking our peaceful silence.
Mom hums in response without looking up from the puzzle, her brows furrowed in concentration.
“Mom, it’s actually important.”
She lifts her head. Even Dad peers at me from his newspaper for an instant. “What’s up, sweetie?” she asks.
I point to the counter, where the lasagna still sits. “Did that stay on the counter all night?”
“Yes, I was letting it cool down,” Mom explains, frowning. “Is that your thing that’s actually important?”
My mouth goes dry, and my tongue is suddenly too large for my mouth. Dad’s pointed gaze makes my heart beat faster.
“Mom. You can’t do that. It’ll have gone bad now.” I don’t sound as self-assured as I wish I did.
Mom sighs. “Karan, it’s actually fine. I had to let it sit overnight because it was way too hot to put in the fridge before I went to bed.”
“Why?”
“It’ll go sour if you cover it up while it’s still hot,” she explains, confidently. “So it’s actually less dangerous to leave it on thecounter and put it in the fridge after. Speaking of which, I should go do that.”
She stands.
