She had nodded. She wanted to be strong, like her brother.
“When you punch, pretend the thing you are punching is behind what you’re actually punching. You’ll power through every time.” He had eyed her form as she practiced air punches.
“Good.” His voice had got quiet. “But Mom and Dad are right. This is a last resort. If there’s a way to solve something without punches, do that first. If not, then—” he nodded at her little fist “—take them down.”
Riya easily blocked Walsh’s wild punch and clocked him on the jaw. He went down, unconscious.
She stood over him, her breath coming hard and fast.It had to be done, Samir.
“You are one badass woman.” Alvarez grinned.
She looked up to find the department watching her, admiration on their faces. Her heart raced, betraying her calm demeanor. “You all mind if I get dressed?”
Riya didn’t really do Rakshabandan anymore. She didn’t have a brother, so she just ignored the day. Which was easier when she wasn’t living at home. Or when her father’s sister wasn’t coming. She told herself not to be so selfish. Her dad and foi had a fabulous bond, and they didn’t always get to be together for this holiday.
It really was the best holiday. Riya had always made two sweets. One Indian and one not-so-Indian, and she tried different ones each year. Her mother had always insisted they dress up in their best traditional clothes, even though the actual ceremony only took about five minutes. Riya’s mother would get the thali ready. On this platter would be vermilion powder, uncooked rice, a small lit diya, and the rakhi, which Riya always made herself from embroidery string.
At Riya’s last Rakshabandan, she had made peda, a cardamom milk fudge. For her non-Indian sweet, she had tried macarons. It had been her first attempt, so they needed work. But Samir had acted like they were the best thing he’d ever had.
He had handed her the small box, and in her excitement, she had quickly ripped it open to find the beautiful filigree pendant inside. It was Ganesha and an ohm intertwined. It was beautiful, more so because she knew he’d made it.
Her mother was jabbering on about Rakshabandan prep as she chopped vegetables while Riya made the dhal.
“And guess what?” Her mother was beaming. It was hard to tell she’d had a heart attack a few weeks ago. “Rumit Mama is coming.” There were tears in her eyes as she gushed about her younger brother coming for Rakshabandan. “Your masi is going to be practically living here.”
For the first time since all this prep had started, Riya was truly excited. Rumit Mama was much younger than her mother, and Riya adored him. The house would be full again.
Riya grinned with genuine happiness. “We should make his favorite, peda!”
“Of course.” Her mother hesitated.
“What?”
“I was hoping you’d make those macarons, too.”
Riya stiffened and turned back to stir the dhal. She hadn’t made any kind of sweet for Rakshabandan since the last time she’d made them. It wasn’t often that they celebrated, so there hadn’t been any need. Baking did soothe her, but she never practiced the macarons.
“Riya.” Her mother touched her arm. “It’s okay to move on.”
Riya glared at her mother.
“Wash your hands,” Riya’s mother told her as she washed her own hands, with that mom voice that Riya hadn’t heard in years. The one that compelled even thirty-year-old children to do as they were told. “Come with me.”
Riya cleaned up and followed as her mother marched upstairs and down the hall to Samir’s room.
“What’re we doing here?” Dread, deep and foreboding, settled into Riya’s stomach.
“We’re going in.” Her mother did not sound the least bit apprehensive.
“No.” Panic rose in her voice as Riya shook her head. “No one’s been in here since—”
“That’s not true. Your father and I have been in here plenty. The first few times were the hardest, but now, when I miss my son, I come in here to feel close to him. I know he’s never coming back to us, but at least I can remember him.”
Shock didn’t even begin to cover what Riya felt as she heard this. Her mother was infinitely stronger than Riya had given her credit for. Apparently, Riya could run into burning buildings without a thought, but going into her brother’s room made her light-headed and nauseous.
“Come on.” Her mother nodded at the doorknob. “You need to do this.”
Riya placed her hand on the knob, her stomach in knots. She closed her eyes, and Samir’s face appeared clearly in front of her. He was young and handsome...and smirking at her as he so frequently had.What’s the matter? You scared?She took a deep breath.Yes, Samir. Scared and heartbroken. You left me.She turned the knob.
