Chapter 38
Karan
I’m the first to wake, and I’m immediately struck by the beauty of my serene wife sleeping peacefully. A laugh attempts to escape my throat when I notice the boys, however.
Corey is completely flipped over, his head at the foot of the bed, with no blankets to cover him. Cayce, for his part, has crawled over Rachel’s chest and is lying with his stomach over her, his head and feet splaying on either side of her ribs.
How Rachel is sleeping this deeply, I have no idea. Our son is five years old and actually weighs something; he’s not a cat. But I shrug it off and slip out of bed as carefully as I can.
After last night, I’m confident enough about Rachel’s mental state to leave her here with Cayce and Corey while I go grab breakfast. I’m careful as I get dressed and open the door.
By the time I drive back with a paper bag of warm goodies and two cups of coffee in hand, all three of them are awake.
Cayce and Corey are playing tag and laughing, while Rachel sits in our bed, still dazed from sleep.
Her chestnut hair ripples like a waterfall across her face when she turns to look at me enter the room and gives me a soft smile.
I smile back.
That smile from my wife is enough to keep the demons at bay, if only for now. I’m painfully aware that what awaits me today will be one of the most harrowing experiences of my life, even more so than yesterday.
For now, I get to enjoy breakfast with my family.
The twins devour their still-warm chocolate croissants while Rachel carefully nibbles on her own. When the boys are done eating and have left the table to go resume their game of tag, Rachel takes a sip of coffee and meets my gaze.
“So, what’s next?”
Her tone is careful. Hesitant.
“We go home,” I say.
Corey overhears me and stops dead in his tracks.
“Wait, what?” he whines just as his brother bumps into him. “You said we were going on an adventure, not home!”
“Corey, it’s complicated,” Rachel sighs.
“Wait, no, he’s right,” I chime in.
I haven’t been there enough for my sons. The last thing I’m going to do is disappoint them again.
I smile at Rachel and turn my gaze to Corey. “We can take an extra day for an adventure.”
“Where?” Cayce and Corey say in unison.
“Twillingate?” Rachel volunteers. “It’s a good trek from where we are, but I’ve heard there are icebergs around this time of year.”
The twins cry out in glee, and I chuckle.
“Twillingate it is.” I look back at Rachel and frown. “But first, I’ve got somewhere to go.”
The boys go back to their game while Rachel and I stare at each other in understanding.
She nods, her bottom lip quivering.
Last night, before we headed to bed, Rachel gave me the rundown on what happened with my mom at the cabin.
Turns out, I was right to trust Rachel, as I should have all along.
My mom, hard-headed as she is, can’t accept constructive criticism.
That won’t fly. Not when it comes to our parenting decisions.
The last thing I want is to go back out to that place today. I crave going out with Rachel and my boys on a full, carefree adventure. But I can’t do that until I’ve gone back.
Because Mom is right about one thing; I can’t just leave like this. I have to at least try to make things right. And I can only hope that she’ll listen to reason.
I love her and Dad too much to consider the alternative.
“Well, boys,” Rachel says with what I can tell is a forced smile, “we are going to do a cozy movie morning while we wait for Dad, and then we’ll go on an adventure!”
How I admire her strength. The way she can show up as a mother for our boys, even when she’s torn inside.
That’s what I focus on during my drive back to the cabin. Rachel’s unwavering strength. The safe haven of her love. Despite having these thoughts as a balm for my mounting anxiety, my body becomes more tense, my mouth more dry as I near Jocelyne’s home.
My breathing shallows, and my palms get sweaty against the steering wheel that I hold in a death grip.
When I park in the driveway, terror seizes me like a vice.
I barely have time to unbuckle my seatbelt before Mom comes running out the door, still in her pink and black polka dot pajamas, the short regrowth of her salt and pepper hair a poofy cloud around her head without her headscarf to keep them at bay.
“Karan!” she exclaims as she runs down the snow-laden steps with her slippers.
“Mom, what are you doing?” A different flavour of terror winds its way around my heart; terror for her safety.
She’s going to slip and fall, break a hip, wind back at the hospital, an—
The memory of her against the drab backdrop of the hospital room, face pale, hair all gone, squeezes my chest in a painful grip.
I run to her and catch her just in time when she inevitably slips on the last step.
“Martine!” my father cries out from the door.
The next few minutes are a blur. The whole family is outside as they fawn over Mom, until we’re finally ushered inside. It all happens too quickly for me to get a word in or process anything as it’s happening.
Next thing I know, I’m at the kitchen table, sitting across from my parents. Dad holds Mom close, and I recognize the pained expression painted across his face as the same one I’ve worn for Rachel since yesterday.
Anjali sits next to me while the rest of the family simply hovers around the room. The air is heavy, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.
I’m the one who finally breaks the silence.
“You could have hurt yourself, Mom. Why would you rush out like that?”
Mom’s lower lip trembles. Dad tightens his arm around her shoulders. “I couldn’t wait another moment to see my baby boy.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Mom…”
“I knew you’d be back,” she continues, too much hope coating her voice.
She has completely misconstrued what this is about.
“I knew you wouldn’t turn your back on your own parents. I only wish you’d brought the boys with you.”
“I didn’t bring the boys,” I start, “because I’m not staying.”
“Then why are you here?” my father booms.
I resist the natural urge to flinch.
I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe.
“To break your mother’s heart even more than you already have?”
“Surinder,” Anjali warns her brother in a clipped tone.
“What? I’m only laying the truth for him to see.”
“It’s fine, Auntie,” I reassure Anjali, carefully resting my hand against hers.
I turn my attention back to my parents and swallow past the knot in my throat. “I came here to fix this.”
“Oh,” Mom sighs, pressing a hand to her chest. “Good. That’s good.”
“Mom, Dad,” I begin, bracing myself and daring to hope, hope, hope. “You’ve always taught me the importance of respecting and honouring your parents. I’ve always upheld those values. And I intend to do everything in my power to continue to do so.”
The hopeful smiles adorned on both my parents’ faces break my heart.
“But Rachel and I are parents, too.” Their smiles falter, brows furrowing. “And we’re raising our boys the best we can. Mom, you have to respect that we’re parents in this equation, too.”
“I know you’re a parent,” Mom says, her voice strained. “But you’ll always be my baby boy, no matter what.”
“That’s the thing, Mom.” I breathe through my nose. “It’s like you do respect us as parents, until we don’t do things your way. And what happened yesterday—it cannot happen again.”
“So what, exactly, would have had me do, Karan? Let Rachel walk all over me after I’ve done both of you a favour by babysitting your children?”
“She wasn’t walking all over you. She was setting a boundary.”
Mom rolls her eyes at the word. “Boundaries. You’re really going to take boundary advice from a woman who has turned her back on her own parents?”
“Abusive parents,” I correct her.
“They never lay a finger on her,” Dad chimes in.
“Oh, my God,” I sigh, rubbing my beard with my hand. “I am not having this discussion with you guys. This has nothing to do with Rachel’s family.”
I stand, unable to stay still like this is a normal conversation.
“Mom, I’m going to be crystal clear with you.
You’ve got an issue respecting Rachel’s boundaries and respecting her as a mother?
Well, then, fix it. Find a therapist. Go on a silent retreat.
I don’t give a fuck what you do—fix your shit, or you’re going to lose us for good. ”
My words hang in the air, everyone collectively holding their breaths. Mom stares at me. Her eyes are wide open, her jaw hanging on the floor. Dad, on the other hand, is locked tight. A stone fortress.
He’s seething, but he’s letting Mom break the silence.
And she does.
“All I’ve ever done,” Mom cries out, tears beginning to stream from her face as she stands, “was to help you. But apparently, I love you too much, want you to succeed too much. Is my love for you too much, Karan?”
“No.” My own voice trembles as I fight back tears.
I cannot cry in front of them. Especially Dad, who looks down at me with a stony, disappointed glare.
“I told you yesterday; I love you. I love you both.”
That’s the truth, because who wouldn’t?
How can you not love those who loved and nurtured you from nothing?
Those who pushed you to become the best version of yourself?
Those who were once everything for you?
Once, a few years ago, Rachel’s parents came up in a conversation. I asked her if she missed them. If she still loved them. I remember her tearing up and taking a long minute before she answered, “Yes.”
You can love someone with everything that you are. And you can know, deep within yourself, that you have to let them go.
“If that’s true, Karan, then apologize, and let’s end this right now,” my dad finally speaks out. “It’s not too late.”
Everything in my life has been orchestrated by my parents. They’ve been the main driving force behind every decision I’ve made.
Everything, except Rachel.
She’s the only thing I've ever gotten to choose for myself. And Rachel chose me. We both made that very clear to each other over the last few weeks.
I’m going to choose her over and over again until the day I die.
“Be very careful what you’re going to say next,” I tell them both, placing my hands on the table.
“I’m not going to be made the villain here,” Mom continues. “I—”
“I’m not here to apologize, and I’m not going to sweep this under the rug,” I interrupt her. “You can either accept my terms, or not. It’s your choice. And choices have consequences.”
I look at them both, alternating between my mother and father.
“So, that’s it?” Mom squeals. “All of a sudden, you’re in charge, and we either bow down to your rules, or you throw us away like trash?”
“That’s not how it is—”
“You’re a disappointment, Karan.”
My father’s words echo through my ears, entering my body, and wreak all sorts of havoc inside. They bounce back and forth, destroying what I’ve built, the fragile confidence and self-worth that I’ve attempted to nurture from the scraps they’ve been tossing me.
There’s nothing else to say, then.
This time, when I leave, I don’t feel much of anything. An alien numbness slowly takes over my body like vines. Logically, I should be heartbroken, angry, scared—anything—but it’s that grey quiet that engulfs me.
The only thing that keeps me from drowning in this sea of apathetic misery is the knowledge that Rachel, Cayce, and Corey are out there waiting for me.
They’re the ones I’m fighting for.