Chapter 15
Ash
On a Wednesday night, my parents were both home. That wasn’t normal, and I knew it wasn’t going to be good when they had me sit in the living room so they both could talk to me. Why did we have to sit in the living room and not the family room? I missed that fucking room so much.
I knew where the conversation was going the moment Maa sat beside me and placed a hand against my knee, but still, I wasn’t ready for it.
“Ashish, your father and I love you very much. It’s so important that you know that, OK?” she said with the softest tone to her voice. “And there is nothing in the world that we wouldn’t do for you.”
“You’re getting a divorce,” I spat out, not wanting them to tiptoe around the topic at hand. They glanced at each other, like they were shocked that I blurted out the words. “I saw the paperwork. I also overheard you both talking about it.”
Dad sighed as his brows knit together. “Your mother and I love each other so much, Ash—”
“That’s a lie,” I cut in.
“What? No. It’s not,” Dad countered.
“Yes, it is. People who love each other don’t get divorced.” I shook my head, working hard to not let my emotions leak from my eyes. “Is it my fault?”
“What? No, mera beta. Of course it’s not,” Maa soothed, rubbing her hand on my back in a circular motion like she used to do when I was younger. “It’s just . . . life has been heavy for a while now.”
“Since Rian died,” I said.
“Yes, since Rian . . .” Maa’s words faded off, as if she couldn’t bring herself to say the word “died.” I understood.
I choked on the word every time it left my mouth.
“Sweetie. We just want to get better. And currently, the situation between your father and me isn’t getting better.
We think it’s best for both of us to go our own ways. ”
It was my fault.
I knew it was.
The night he took his life, he asked me to hang out with him, but I was too busy with my old friends.
I told him we could hang out the next day.
If I would’ve hung out with Rian the night he took his life, he might’ve still been here.
If I would’ve noticed how sad he’d been, I could’ve helped him.
Then maybe our parents would’ve still been in love.
Then maybe the family room would’ve still been used.
Then maybe we would’ve still been happy together.
I ruined this.
I ruined us.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I choked on my emotions.
“This is my fault. I did this. I’m sorry, Maa.
I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry,” I cried, feeling the heaviness of the situation fully settled in.
They both wrapped their arms around me and kept telling me that it wasn’t my fault, but it was hard to believe them.
They kept saying they loved each other and me, but it felt like empty promises that would lead to nothing good.
Because if there was one thing they seemed certain of, it was them going their separate ways.
What did that mean for me?
What did that mean for us?
Was Dad just going to live in the basement?
Was he going to move out? Was Maa moving?
Did I have to go back and forth between two homes on the weekends?
Did I now have a part-time mother and father?
Did they only get to see me every other week?
Why did it feel like I was losing both of them as they lost each other?
They kept comforting me the best they could. Maa cried; Dad didn’t. I couldn’t recall the last time I saw my father cry. He didn’t even shed a tear at Rian’s funeral, at least not in a place where I could’ve seen him.
We went to bed that night, but I wasn’t sure if any of us were able to sleep.
I missed Rian.
I missed Maa.
I missed Dad.
During the night, I got up to get a glass of water, and I heard the strangest sound. I walked toward the door that led to the basement, opened it, and walked down the steps to see Dad standing in the hallway of the basement, sobbing into his hands.
His body bent over as he choked on his emotions. Every single feeling slammed full force at him. For a long time, I didn’t think my father knew how to cry. I figured he was built with a different toughness scale than the rest of our family.
Until now.
His back was to me. I couldn’t stop staring at him.
I walked over to him, and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a hug.
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” I said, holding him tight. He held me tighter.
I cried with him, because it didn’t feel right to have him crying by his lonesome.
He told me he was sorry, too, and that Maa would need me.
She’d need me to be strong for her. She’d need me to look after her.
She’d need me to be there for her. And he said that I’d need her, too, to help me through the hard days.
But didn’t he see it? Couldn’t he tell? I needed him, too.