She turned to him, teary-eyed in the moonlight, and nodded. “For the life of me, I don’t know what he stayed back to get. You and I, we took Hetal. Lucky stayed with your father...” She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing tears onto her cheeks. “He just makes me so mad.”
“Mom.” The same thoughts haunted him all the time. What if he’d just pleaded with his dad to come out with them? Why hadn’t he done that? At fifteen, Dhillon had adored his father. He and his dad had always enjoyed each other’s company. They had rock climbed, hiked and watched old movies together. His father was the one who had advocated for Dhillon to get a puppy when his mother had been hesitant. He hadn’t lived long enough for Dhillon to hit a rebellious phase or even roll his eyes at him.
“Sorry.” She chuckled, but it was a cold thing. “Your dad could just be so stubborn sometimes. He couldn’t simply come out of the house with us. If he had, we’d have him.” She turned to Dhillon. “You would have had your father all these years. You two had such a special bond. I remember when you were a baby, he wanted to do everything—change your diapers, wake up with you, play with you. He had lost his father when he was very young, and he wanted to be the best dad to you.”
Dhillon nodded, a small smile on his face. “He was the best dad.”
She squeezed his arm. “Then, when Hetal was born, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He said ‘dil anand thi bharayi gayu’ when he learned he had a daughter.” She shook her head, smiling at some memory Dhillon could not see.
“I remember.” His father’s heart had filled with joy.
The instant his baby sister was born, Dhillon was in awe. She was so little, so fragile-looking, Dhillon’s protective instincts kicked in with fervor. It was older-brother-love at first sight.
“Dad,” he had said, “I get to do Rakshabandan this year.”
His father had beamed at him. “Your first one. Let’s make it special.”
Dhillon saved his birthday and Diwali money and had got his father to take him shopping. It took Dhillon hours to decide on the best first Rakshabandan present. His father had patiently taken him from store to store. Finally, unable to decide, Dhillon had asked his dad what he had got for his sister for their first Rakshabandan.
“Dhillon,” his father had said, a small smile on his face, “it’s not about the gift. It’s about the promises you and your sister make to each other.”
“But she’s just a baby.” Ten-year-old Dhillon was practically a man compared to Hetal.
“True, she’s just a baby now. But she will grow up, and you will grow up. Certainly, being a bit older, you can guide and watch out for her. But never underestimate the power of your sister to guide and watch over you as well.”
Dhillon had simply shaken his ten-year-old head in disbelief. How could a little baby watch over him?
“I got my sister earrings for her first Rakshabandan,” his father finally told him.
Dhillon had grinned. “Perfect. That was two stores ago.”
Hetal still had those tiny little earrings. His mother had got him a delicate gold bracelet, on behalf of his baby sister, for his first rakhi. He still wore it.
“Your father would want you to be on your own—” his mother’s words brought him back to the present “—instead of chained to this house by obligation or loyalty or whatever keeps you here. He’d want you to marry Riya and move on with your life.”
“I’m not marrying her.” But he’d got damn close to kissing her again the other night. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t keep him awake at night.
“Whatever.” She waved him off. “Even Hetal should be in the dorms, partying and enjoying life. Both of you stick to me as if I’m some weak old woman.”
“And that’s Dad’s fault?”
“No. It’s mine. I love having you both here, and I let that get in the way of doing what is right. You should be living your own lives.” She inhaled. “I’m just tired of everyone thinking that just because I lost my husband, I’m not capable of living my own life. Do I miss him? Of course! Am I angry with him? Sometimes. I used to waste time wishing things could be different, but that just made me angrier. Now it just hits me in times of frustration.” She looked out the window again. “You remember when we scattered his ashes?”
Not a day he would ever forget. It had been him, Hetal, his mother, Hiral Mama and his family, and the Desais. They had chartered a boat so they could scatter the ashes in the ocean. His dad had loved the water, and his mother was of the belief that if they scattered the ashes in the ocean, they might make it to India.
“We all went.”
“Scattering his ashes... I was terrified on the trip home. It was then that I realized how alone I was. Hetal was barely five at the time. You were just a teenager, hadn’t even gotten your driver’s permit. Your father was supposed to teach you how to drive. That was our deal. I potty trained, but he had to teach you to drive. I didn’t know how I was going to handle working and providing, as well as raising the both of you.” She shook her head. “And missing him.” Her voice cracked.
Dhillon put his arm around her and squeezed. She rested her head on his shoulder a minute.
“It was a while before I could accept what my life would look like without him.” She side-eyed her son. “Your dad and I had what was called alove marriageback in the day. Basically, it meant no one had introduced us. We used to sneak off and meet at mandirs all over town. Hiral Mama found out and told on us.” Her eyes widened in mock drama. “It was all very scandalous at the time. Luckily, we were in love, so when Hiral told our parents, we were more than willing to make it official and get married.” She gazed out the window again. “We dared to dream together.” Her eyes were moist. “It didn’t work out exactly like we’d planned, but I’d dare to dream with him again, even knowing what would happen.
“Anyway, I didn’t know how I was going to work and take care of you and your sister and everything else.” She looked up at him, pride in her face. “But you stepped up. Your father’s son all the way. I hated that you had to quit soccer, work extra hours after school at the clinic, help with the girls. But we needed that at the time.”
Dhillon shrugged. He wouldn’t have done anything differently.
“We don’t need it now, Dhillon.” She brushed his hair out of his face.
