Chapter 5
Karan
“You look distracted, Beta.”
I jump, ripped from my daze in a panic at the sound of my father’s voice, but when I look up at him, he’s simply staring back at me with a gentle smile.
I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe.
The decades-old chant soothes me back into my composed self.
As always, my father’s salt and pepper hair is neatly combed to one side, not a single stray strand out of place. He gave me hell when I began growing my hair out and tying it back in a bun.
Years later, he’s over it, but that tiny glint of judgment always hides in his hazel eyes.
“Uh…” I look around to center myself back in the moment.
It’s just the two of us sitting on the couch in my parents’ small living room. From my vantage point, I can see Rachel chatting with Mom in the kitchen.
So far, so good.
Rachel’s smiling, a glass of beer in her hand as she sits at the kitchen table. I can’t see Mom, but I hear her scurrying around at the kitchen counter. No matter how many times Rachel has offered to help Mom when she’s making a meal, Mom always refuses.
But it’s not about Rachel. Heck, I’m sitting here on my ass, not helping out, for a reason. Mom likes her space in the kitchen, and hell hath no fury for the poor mortal who gets in her way, cancer or no cancer.
“Yeah, I guess I am a little distracted.” I rub the back of my neck with my hand as I crane it around. “Where are the boys?”
“I think they’re downstairs.” Dad squints. “What’s on your mind, Beta?”
I inhale and lean back against the leather couch.
The truth is, I can’t really spew out everything that’s on my mind.
Not to Dad. That was never the type of relationship we had.
My brain is still scarred from memories of his screams, the fear that would inhabit my bones, whenever I dared to step out of line or try to be someone he doesn’t want me to be.
Even if I was open with him, I can’t really share what occupies my mind right now. Not when it has to do with my mother.
I’m not blind about the fact that the amount of space Mom’s been taking up ever since they moved to the city has been weighing on Rachel. Despite the long hours I work, it’s still very clear to me. I lost a lot of points by choosing to help Mom the other night, and I was already in the negatives.
But I know what Dad would say. A good son honours his mother.
Ever since I was born, he has always drilled down this one value from his Indian heritage more than any other:
Love, respect, and serve your parents.
Mom may not be Indian, but she sure as hell wields that value, too. There’s a good reason they fell in love and got married; they’ve got a lot in common.
But it’s insanely frustrating not to be able to share what’s on my mind.
I can’t share with Dad because he won’t understand.
Most of my friends from college slowly fell away when I had Cayce and Corey.
The person I’m closest to apart from my wife is Will, but I can’t be 100% honest with him, either.
I’m supposed to take care of his sister. I’m supposed to make her happy. And I’m too ashamed to let him know that I’ve been failing miserably.
The pressure of it all is debilitating.
So, instead, I force a smile and look Dad in the eyes. “Work is running me ragged. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”
Dad’s smile gets bigger, wrinkling his eyes. “Good. You’re working so hard. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Hmm.” I nod without too much conviction.
“It may be hard, but that’s what the man of the family does,” Dad continues. “They work real jobs that provide for their families.”
“Ubisoft was a real job, Dad,” I mutter under my breath.
Neither he nor Mom ever considered my work in the video game industry as a ‘real job’.
Despite the healthy paychecks.
But software engineering pays more, and despite me doing almost the same thing, my work at True Keys is more legitimate in their eyes.
They’re the ones who pushed me for the change. And Dad is right—the money I make at this startup is serious. We’re already starting to consider finding a bigger home, and for the first time in years, I’m not constantly worrying about paving the way for our boys’ futures.
Rachel provides just as much as I do. In fact, we’re a pretty even split. My yearly bonus is what takes me over the top.
That bonus alone is what allows my father to see me as the true provider he has drilled me to be.
“Maybe your generation considers that a real job,” Dad says with a roll of his eyes.
I freeze in horror. I didn’t mean him to hear what I’d whispered under my breath.
“But it doesn’t matter,” he adds. “The job you have now is perfect.”
Perfectly suffocating.
“Dinner’s almost ready!” Mom calls out from the kitchen.
Dad’s eyes light up and he stands before Mom’s sentence is finished. While I stand, I spy Rachel heading towards the basement to find the boys.
Within a minute, the six of us are sitting at the dinner table with a steaming plate of Mom’s signature paté chinois. I turn my attention to Rachel. She’s looking down at her plate with deep fondness in her eyes.
I know she misses her own mother’s paté chinois.
“Thank you, Mom, this is delicious,” I say after swallowing my first juicy, beefy bite.
Mom smiles at me from across the table. She’s wearing a long pink head scarf that drapes over her shoulder. Every time I get to see her like this is a blessing.
It wasn’t that long ago that we were fearing for her life.
“Mom, I don’t like the corn,” Cayce frets, pushing at the creamed corn on his plate with his fork.
“I’ll eat yours,” Corey volunteers.
Before he has a chance to steal a bite from his twin brother, my mother grabs his wrist.
“Nuh-huh,” she chides, patting Corey’s head and mussing his straight black hair. “Cayce needs to eat his own corn. There’s plenty leftover if you want more, honey.”
“Cayce doesn’t have to eat the corn if he doesn’t want to.” Though Rachel is sitting straight to my left, her voice sounds subdued.
Mom raises her eyebrows. “They’re going to grow up picky if you keep catering to their whims.”
“That’s not how we handle food.” This time, Rachel’s voice is louder, more firm.
“Karan had to eat whatever was on his plate, or he didn’t eat at all,” Mom continues. “And now he eats basically anything.”
The air is thickening with tension, and Rachel stiffens next to me.
“I’m basically a garbage truck!” I add, attempting to loosen the tension.
“Dad’s a garbage truck!” Corey laughs. Cayce snickers too.
Dad shoots me a glance that makes my blood go cold. A memory of him screaming and sending me to my room for daring to talk with my mouth full rears its way to the front of my mind.
“Let’s not bring talks of garbage to the dinner table, please,” he says in a stern tone.
I lower my chin and keep eating in silence.
“Anyway, I wanted to talk about the Christmas plans.” Mom takes a bite before she continues.
I give Rachel a sideways glance. She seems okay. At least, for the time being.
“I finalized the details with Jocelyne. We’ll arrive at her cottage on December 23rd, and we can stay as long as we want up til January 3rd because she’s headed to Mexico then. Anjali and Suresh will be joining us with their kids as well.”
A bubble of excitement bursts in my chest. Jocelyne is Mom’s sister, and Anjali is Dad’s sister. It’s not the first time Jocelyne has invited Dad’s side of the family over to her cottage. One of my favourite years, Rachel and I were a brand new couple, and I was madly in love.
Still am.
I’ve been looking forward to Christmas this year more than usual, specifically for this. I have such sweet memories of Rachel and me in that log wood home, huddled near the fireplace with hot cocoa. Or that moment in the shower while no one else was home…
I can’t let my mind go there. Not at the dinner table.
I peer at Rachel, eager to share my excitement with her. But my heart sinks a little when I notice her fidgeting hands and the way her gaze flickers away.
She’s not as excited about this as I am.
“Are we gonna take the ferry?” Cayce asks, his eyes lighting up.
His grandmother smiles down at him. “Of course we’re going to take the ferry, honey!”
The mental calculations start bouncing around in my head.
Taking the ferry to Newfoundland is only going to make this trip longer—and more expensive—than it needs to be.
Instead of taking flights directly from Montréal to Gander, we’ll have to fly down to Sydney in Nova Scotia, then take the ferry, then drive up to my aunt’s cottage housed on a small peninsula near Gander.
From Rachel’s tense disposition next to me, I can tell she’s running the same calculation in her mind.
“We… hadn’t decided about the ferry yet, Mom,” I stammer.
But it’s too late. Both Cayce and Corey are nearly jumping up and down in excitement.
“I wanna go on the ferry!” Cayce whines.
“Me too!” Corey echoes.
Rachel shoots me a glance, and if looks could kill…
“It will be fun!” Mom adds, her eyes going dreamy. “Just think of the memories this experience will create for the boys. Spending the night on a ferry!”
“It’s not like we can’t afford it,” I say, sighing and rubbing Rachel’s shoulder in an attempt to convince myself as much as her that this is a good idea. “And we’ll be asleep in the cabin most of that time.”
“Will the boys even want to sleep?” Rachel retorts.
She’s got a point. Keeping them under control will be a challenge for sure.
“We’ll be four adults against two kids,” Mom adds. “Plus, we’ll avoid the layover.”
“Yeah,” Rachel sighs, defeated. “A single two-hour flight is definitely better than a four-hour layover…”
My chest swells with relief. Seems like she’s coming around to the idea.
All I want is for her to be happy.
“Well, that’s settled, then,” Mom says with a happy smile.
Next to her, Dad has nearly cleaned out his entire plate already, having said hardly anything.
“Oh, Karan, I almost forgot to tell you!” Mom bites her fork, swallows, and points her utensil to the twins. “I’m taking the boys to the movie theater next Sunday.”
“Uh, no,” Rachel immediately pipes up, her tone stiffer than how she usually speaks to my parents. “We’ve got plans that day. We’re visiting a friend in Estrie.”
She turns to look at me, looking for support.
Oh, yeah, I’d almost forgotten we’re going to visit Tania and Nolan in Roxton Falls that day.
“Yeah, sorry, Mom.”
Mom chuckles without humour. “Well, then, why don’t you go visit them on Saturday instead? I haven’t taken them to the movies in ages.”
“We can’t Saturday,” Rachel replies.
A hint of confusion blooms. What’s happening on Saturday?
“Actually, if you took the kids on Saturday, it would work out great, so I’ve got no problem on that day,” Rachel adds.
“Ugh… I guess I’m going to have to move stuff around on my schedule… but maybe I can make it work. You guys are always so busy!”
My brows furrow as I turn to Rachel. I’m almost scared to ask. Rachel already thinks I’m not present enough. If I start forgetting important events on top of it, I’m in trouble. “Sorry, what are we doing Saturday again?”
Rachel’s sheepish look is not what I expected. “I was about to tell you later tonight…”
So I didn’t forget anything.
Relief washes over me.
“Well, you can tell me now.” I smile encouragingly.
Rachel’s gaze darts around the room with a nervous energy before returning to me. “We’re moving my sister in the guest room.”
My eyes widen and my mouth goes dry, the shock hitting me like a bolt of lightning. The table goes quiet. Even the boys settle down at the bomb Rachel just dropped.
“Wait… what?”
I can’t help the shocked tone of my voice. Maybe I’m misunderstanding, or I heard wrong. Maybe Océane is only coming over to spend the weekend. Or Rachel said something else entirely, and my overloaded brain fed me back mush.
Rachel’s eyes go soft as she gives me an apologetic look. “Like I said, I was going to talk to you about this later… but something happened today.”
“What happened to the poor dear?” Mom pipes up with a hand on her chest.
Mom has only met Océane a couple of times, and helped us out when Rachel got her out of their childhood home, but that didn’t stop her from developing a sweet spot for her.
Rachel looks down. “She got hurt. She’s struggling to care for herself. I… She can’t be left on her own anymore.”
“Oh, that poor child…” Mom covers her mouth.
Meanwhile, I can’t utter a single word. A tight knot forms in my stomach, my pulse quickening.
I can’t believe Rachel would invite someone into our home without talking to me about it first.
Actually, that’s not it.
I can’t believe she wouldn’t trust me to say yes.
Does she not think I would be okay with this?
I love Océane like the sister I never had. The amount of pain this girl has had to endure is simply unfair.
Bringing someone new into our home is a big deal. A huge deal. It’s a decision that should have been made by the two of us. Together. But we don’t leave family behind. If this were my sister, I couldn’t fathom leaving her in need, especially knowing that I could have helped.
The fact that Rachel didn’t trust me with this decision… it triggers alarm bells deep into the recesses of my mind.
Something is deeply wrong between us.
For the first time, a doubt creeps into me about whether my wife still sees me as the man she loves and trusts with her whole heart.
I focus on that when I force a smile and grab Rachel’s hand. “Family comes first, always,” I affirm to her, my thumb tenderly stroking her palm.
She smiles at me in relief while I try my best to pretend I’m not panicking inside.