Chapter 51 Malena
Malena
Sunlight peeked through the curtain grommets, filling the room with the occasional bar of light.
I woke up to one missed call and a few texts. Surprise lifted me when I realized they were from my sister. I leaned on an elbow to read them.
Avani: Okay, so you should probably come home
Avani: I got in last night and had to convince them not to file a missing person’s report
Avani: Now Mom has decided she’s ‘done’
There was an eyeroll emoji at the end of the last text.
While Avani and I were very different people, we’d grown up in the same house. She knew what I was up against, and I hoped she’d at least hear me out when it was time for me to face my parents’ judgment.
I sat the rest of the way up and texted her back.
Me: Okay. I’ll be home later.
The sheets rustled behind me, and a finger ran down my spine.
I looked over my shoulder to find Conrad with one arm tucked under his head, the other continuing its slow journey up and down my back.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said through a yawn, smiling at me, looking all sleepy and adorable. “Are you going to be okay?”
I nodded. “I need to be brave.”
I reached forward and placed the phone back on the nightstand.
“The Mal I know is fearless,” he encouraged, rising up to brush his nose against my cheek.
“That’s because around you, I don’t have anything to be afraid of,” I whispered. Around him, I felt safe.
I closed my eyes and leaned back into him. I’d had my share of sex, good sex too, but with him, it was the first time I ever understood what it felt like when there was connection that went beyond the physical. It was a feeling I never wanted to give up.
He didn’t say anything, simply pressed his chest against my bare back and wrapped me in his arms. He dropped a few sweet, featherlight kisses on my neck.
“Mal.” His voice deepened, becoming serious.
His thumb ran over the healing bruise on my arm, now visible with the low light of the morning sun.
In all the emotion of last night, I’d forgotten it was there.
It no longer hurt and had gone from that awful black and blue to a less daunting shade of pale green. “What’s this?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” Concern flickered in his eyes. “Why don’t you stay with me this weekend?”
“It’s fine, really.” I wasn’t scared to go home, just hesitant.
Until now, I siloed that part of my life off to where I could rationalize it.
The smacks, pinches, little physical means of intimidation were never that bad.
I wasn’t injured. But even if it was small, it was still unacceptable. I saw that now.
“If I don’t want to stay the whole weekend, I’ll go to Sabrina’s,” I added, turning to face him.
One day, soon, when it all wasn’t so fresh, I’d be ready to talk to him about it. Because I wanted him to know everything about me, even the things that were hard to share.
“I’ll get you if—”
“No need. Sabrina will send someone for me if I need it,” I interrupted. “Just because you and I are dating doesn’t mean she’s not my knight in shining armor.”
She and Cora were my lifeboats, and I was theirs.
His laugh was light and a little forced. “Okay.”
“I can take care of myself.” I pressed a kiss against his lips.
“Yeah…” His fingers laced into my hair and he moved them back and forth, sending pleasing static down my neck. “I know.”
Mom told Avani that she was worried that I was an addict, or an escort, or any number of ridiculous accusations for only having the tiny piece of evidence that I was kissing a boy on the street.
And had a secret bank account.
And had gone to Paris.
And lied to them for years.
And kept a burner phone to help lie to them for years…
Admittedly, it didn’t look great.
“Well, you ripped the Band-Aid off.” Avani turned her coffee mug in her hands as she sat squished next to me by the slightly frosted bay window in our kitchen.
Mom and Dad had been out all morning, and the house was eerily—blissfully—quiet.
“Making them confront your sexual activity head on, brave.”
I had just finished telling her the story of what happened. The version my mom told Avani had taken a lot of liberties with the truth.
“They couldn’t seriously believe I was still a…” My voice lowered because I realized my sister and I never talked about this stuff: boys and sex and everything normal sisters bonded over.
I was open with Cora and Sabrina. They were more my sisters than my own because I always assumed “perfect Avani” would shame me for my choices. At least now I didn’t have to muster the courage to bring it up, it was already out there. And while she seemed blasé about it all, I was anxious.
“They live in delusion, Mal. But…” Avani moved her mug to the side. “I hope you’re not doing all of this for a guy.”
My overly tired nerves crackled to life. She’d said it with care, but all I heard was judgment.
I was doing this for me. I was simply choosing to live my own life.
“I’m not,” I snapped back. But the fact remained: in a life filled with people who wanted me to be a Malena that fit their expectations, Conrad only ever wanted the real one, he only ever expected the truth.
And I refused to lose him. “Not all of us see the jail cell Mom and Dad created and willingly lock ourselves in.”
She was their happy little soldier, which made me the problem any time I voiced some dissent. I didn’t need to hear her concerns to know what they were.
The window at her back rattled with a strong gust of wind, the sound slicing into the silence.
Her shoulders fell and she let out a quiet sigh. “Sorry,” I said, guilt whistling in my ear. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s different for me, Mal.” She glanced out at the gray sky. “I wasn’t perfect in school; I couldn’t also be the rebel. Doing what they want… it keeps the peace.”
It was like we were collecting points and the ones she lost academically, she made up for by being agreeable and doing what they wanted. It was no way to live.
“You didn’t screw up,” I defended. “And is it really peace if you’re quiet out of fear?”
A tiny smile inched up her cheek. “I guess not.”
A gentle melancholy blanketed the kitchen and suddenly I felt even worse because I’d done the exact thing to her that I worried she’d do to me: judged her for her choices.
I was angry at her for choosing the path of least resistance and being okay with it.
I resented her for it because I couldn’t find a way to do the same.
“Besides, you didn’t have the convoluted idea to create a burner identity,” I added.
She harrumphed a laugh. “Impressive, by the way.” She tipped her coffee cup in my direction. “I guess I never prepared for the future quite like you did.”
I looked down at my lap. I’d been avoiding this part because it was terrifying, but if I wanted things to change, it had to be done. “I don’t think I’m gonna come home anymore. Not for a while, anyway.”
I didn’t want to live a life without my family. But I couldn’t keep subjecting myself to this. Not when I was always going to feel like a blemish that needed concealer.
I looked up when Avani didn’t say anything. Her eyes were wide.
“I hate feeling like my world will come apart if I tell the truth. And I can’t just pretend the occasional smack is okay,” I explained. We didn’t dwell on that sort of stuff, but it burned a hole in my heart. “I know we don’t talk about it, but I need to. Because if we don’t, it won’t change.”
And I needed things to change.
Avani nodded.
“I can stay with Sabrina over the summers, and from there… I’ll figure things out,” I added.
“I’ll be back on this coast after residency,” she encouraged. “And I’ll talk to them.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure that will help.”
Though… it probably wouldn’t hurt. The words could be the same, but if they came out of Avani’s mouth, my parents tended to listen.
“I mean it, Mal. They’ve never had a reason to look critically at their own behavior.” She put her cup down, then scooted over and wrapped one arm around me. “Now they do.”
“But until they do…”
“Keep your distance.” Her hold tightened. “And anything you need, you tell me.”
I nodded, looking down at my fingers on my lap because the next question got caught in my throat. I paused and took a hard swallow before managing to choke it out. “Will you still do holiday stuff with me?”
That was what always flashed in my head when I justified my mom’s actions to myself. Or my own actions in lying. It was justified because I wanted part of my life to stay as it was.
I thought about Holi, Diwali, Navratri, each one celebrated alone. I loved my culture; I didn’t want to lose it. My whole life, my family had been my connection. But I was finding new roots there too. Maybe ones to nurture and grow while my parents—hopefully—changed.
I looked up and her eyes were glossy. “If they don’t change, they lose us both, because I’m not doing any of it without you.
” Avani sucked in a deep breath and smiled, nudging me back so she could look at me.
“Now, tell me about him. We probably have another hour before they get back and we all have it out.”
Surprisingly, we never actually “had it out.”
The next three days in my parents’ house were the quietest I’d ever experienced. My mom barely said more than a few words to me; she was probably expecting me to do what I always did: apologize and let it go.
But I didn’t, so this Thanksgiving weekend became the world’s longest game of chicken.
I spent most of it reading, like I did every extended period at home. I did try to spend some more time with Avani because the prickly undercurrent between us was gone. One I now realized was a hushed umbrage.
We all sat down to eat dinner, dosas: her favorite. It was quiet up until Avani broke the silence.
“My sister is going to be on the front page of the New York Herald,” Avani mooned. “That’s pretty cool.”
“Why don’t you focus on residency,” Mom interrupted, looking at Avani with a frown. “So you don’t have any more problems like you did before.”
Avani shifted back in her seat, looking at me and then squeezing my hand under the table.
“Malena, whatever you are doing, think about your future,” Dad said calmly just as my mom opened her mouth. “You have medical school, then you can figure out”—he shifted uncomfortably and gave my mom a sidelong look—“everything else. We’re strict because we know what’s best for you.”
How could they possibly know what was best for me when they didn’t even know me?
“I am thinking about my future,” I answered, voice just as calm.
“Fine. Embarrass your family, disobey your parents…” My mom didn’t look up from her plate. “After everything we’ve sacrificed for you, are you not ashamed of yourself?”
The words registered with clarity between my ears.
And I wondered when the debt of my existence would finally be repaid.
It didn’t happen when I was at the top of my high school class, but maybe it would when I was at the top of my college one. Or when I graduated med school. Or when I married the right guy and had the right type of family.
When would it end? And would I even recognize myself when it did?
I couldn’t help but smile, because it ended now.
“I’m only ashamed that I lied. I’m never doing that again,” I admitted.
This entire episode was the disaster I expected. But instead of the earthquake, it was like a volcano. Searing, eruptive, and chaotic. But the white-hot lava that destroyed everything in its wake would cool. And on that I would build something new. No lies this time.
My mom shook her head. “Then you’ll be honest, and you’ll be alone. See how far you get.”
“Mom,” Avani rebuked quietly.
I glanced up at my dad who just sat there, letting it all happen.
“Aren’t you exhausted?” I asked my mom honestly. “Living in fear that you’ll be judged, so you just don’t live at all?”
I pitied her a little. The constant need to judge and the fear of being judged was its own prison. I couldn’t make it through college like that, how had she gone her whole life? Maybe she had to, for survival here in a new place when she immigrated. But it didn’t mean I had to suffer the same fate.
“I can’t live like that,” I added. “I don’t want to argue, I just want to live my life.”
My mom’s stone facade held. “Selfish.”
I looked down at my own plate because a little piece of my heart—the part that was holding on for dear life—frayed even further in that moment. It was the hopeful bit that thought maybe she’d put aside her own pride and love me as I was, without conditions.
Maybe she’d never understand, although that dying part of my heart hoped she did.
Later, I’d get back to school, and at some point, they’d realize the game of chicken wasn’t a game. But that was fine because I wasn’t scared anymore.
The scariest thing that could happen did happen. And I was okay. Mostly.
I had my sister and the family I’d made on my own. I’d figure it out. If my parents wanted to be actual parents, they could figure that out too.