Chapter 39
Rachel
As soon as Karan walks through the door, I instinctively know something’s wrong.
He doesn’t say anything. Even his posture wouldn’t betray what’s really going on under the surface; he’s standing proud and tall, shoulders held back.
It’s all in his eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes, so full of warmth, have always had a unique light that I’ve recognized as Karan’s true essence.
But when he comes inside, it’s like that light has gone out.
I want to ask him what happened; I want to jump into his arms and pull him into the safety of what we’ll continue to build together. But the boys immediately jump from the bed, their attention on the movie gone and given to their father instead.
“Are we gonna go now?” Cayce asks, unable to contain his excitement.
“Yeah, Daddy, I want to go!” his brother adds.
Karan hugs our sons, kisses the top of their heads, and grins. “Yes. I’m all done. Let’s go on an adventure.”
I don’t get a chance to talk to Karan alone on the route to Twillingate.
The boys stay awake the entire time, and we talk and laugh as a family, commenting on the stunning, snowy mountain landscapes and the glimpses of the ocean glittering beyond.
All I can do is place a hand on his thigh to show him that I’m still here, fully with him, even if we can’t talk about it yet.
Twillingate is absolutely beautiful. I imagine that this charming coastal town with colourful homes, jagged cliffs, and winding roads is beautiful enough in the summer, but right now, in the heart of winter, it’s ethereal.
A blanket of white coats everything, reflecting the sun like diamonds, and through the snow, we can still see glimpses of colour on the houses and businesses strewn across the coast.
The boys positively freak out when we walk along the coast and spot a large iceberg floating in the sea.
On the outside, Karan shares in their glee, even picking up both twins on his wide shoulders to give them a better view.
We all squeal in joy when we see a seal bobbing up and down near the iceberg.
But it’s all superficial. Karan is putting on a show, as much as he tries to hide it from me. If the boys were a little older, I’m sure they’d be able to tell, too. As it stands, they’re too absorbed in our fun little adventure to notice the absent look in their father’s eyes.
Things start to shift on the route back toward the ferry. That superficial happiness and excitement he shared back in Twillingate slowly fades away and scatters to the wind like dust, leaving us with a quiet, withdrawn man.
Only when the boys are finally asleep in our ferry cabin can I finally talk to my husband alone.
Because we had to change the date of our tickets, we could only get a two-bed cabin, the others having all sold out already. Cayce and Corey both share the top bunk, and I’m now sliding up against Karan on the bottom bunk, trying to make the most of the tiny space.
I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. That’s what I focus on when I whisper the question I’ve been aching to ask.
“Karan, how did it go?”
He’s silent at first. His body tenses, only slightly.
“Not well,” he whispers back.
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. And I don’t ask further questions. The fact that he’s here, with us, pretty much paints the whole picture. He went back to set things straight and establish boundaries. It didn’t go well.
I don’t need my doctorate’s degree to figure out they refused to respect his boundaries.
Our boundaries.
I wish I could bask in the pure joy that I should feel at the fact that he chose me. I wish it were that simple. But how can I do that when my husband is clearly in pain?
The next morning, as soon as the ferry lands and we’ve rolled out of the harbour, away from the exiting traffic, Karan parks the car on the side of the road.
“What are we doing?” I ask him, concern starting to choke me up.
“I’m setting things right,” he says without an ounce of emotion before getting out of the car.
The boys start asking questions.
“It’s all right,” I reassure them as I unclip my own seatbelt. “I’m going to go talk to him.”
I follow Karan out of the car; he’s pacing on the gravel, his phone to his ear.
“Yeah, hello?” he says when I assume the person on the other end of the line picks up. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m not coming back after the holidays. Consider this my final notice.”
My blood goes cold, while a tiny glimmer of hope dares to show itself in my chest. Is he doing what I think he’s doing?
He waits and listens, then turns to face me, our eyes meeting. This moment should be a celebration, but I’m only met with a deep abyss in his eyes.
“You can consider all that unpaid overtime I’ve done as the equivalent of a two week’s notice.”
Pause.
“No.”
Pause.
“No, it’s not up for discussion. Goodbye.”
He hangs up.
“Did you just…” My mouth hangs open.
“Yeah.” Karan sighs. “I quit that job you hate so much.”
Those words should fill me with elation. Instead, my heart only sinks further at Karan’s tone.
He places a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go home.”
I don’t know what I expected when we’re all back home. Maybe I’d expected Karan to open up at least a little more, now that we’re back in our own things, in the comfort of the familiar.
But that’s not what happens.
The day after we come back, Will and Sophie bring their whole family over for dinner when they drop off Océane. Sophie insists they’ll supply the food, since we’ll be weary from our travels.
But when she walks into our condo with a lasagna in her arms, I’m sick to my stomach.
I don’t let it show, and instead greet my friend and my siblings with a wide smile and open arms.
Karan stays quiet when he helps me find the folding chairs to accommodate all ten of us. At dinner, he makes an effort to chat and even laugh at some of Will’s jokes, but I see right through him.
While I’m able to make an effort and eat some of Sophie’s lasagna—which is actually delicious, despite how the idea of it turns my stomach—my husband barely touches his plate.
After dinner, Karan and Will bring the five kids to play in the living room to give Sophie and me some space to do the dishes. We’re barely alone for a second before Océane walks into the kitchen and lets herself fall onto a chair.
“Okay, Rachel, what’s going on with Karan?” she whispers while I grab a drying rag and Sophie turns on the hot water.
Sophie arches an eyebrow and looks over at me. “So I’m not the only one who noticed.”
“You’d have to not know Karan at all not to notice something’s off about him,” Océane adds.
I sigh. The truth is, I don’t want there to be something wrong. That pesky guilt still gnaws at my insides. If it wasn’t for the way I melted down, Karan wouldn’t have had to stand up for me. He wouldn’t have had to make the gut-wrenching decision to confront his parents.
Then again, we wouldn’t be together, either.
So, as Sophie and I do the dishes and Océane listens on, I catch them up on everything that happened. Sophie’s face twists into a permanent scowl. And Océane, who is no stranger to toxic behaviour from parents, still appears shocked at how it all went down.
“Maybe I shouldn’t be here,” she whispers, placing a hand on her mouth, her green eyes wide.
“What do you mean?” I pause with my hands on a wet plate.
“Rachel.” My sister rubs her forehead, as if she’s exasperated with me. “He’s going to need you to be there for him as much as possible. I’m only going to be in the way.”
But you need me, I almost say until I force myself to interrupt the thoughts coalesce in my mind.
Océane is right about one thing.
Karan needs me. More than ever.
Of course he’s not doing okay. Who would under these circumstances?
When I thought he would never understand what I needed from him, he finally came through. He chose me.
The least I owe him is the same courtesy.
“Yeah…” Sophie starts scrubbing her casserole dish with way too much intensity. “You two need to be alone.”
“I can’t just kick Océane out,” I whisper, my voice breaking at the lump forming in my throat.
Océane has no one to choose her. How is this fair?
She simply grins at me. “I’m sure Will and Sophie won’t mind me crashing their place for a while longer. Right?”
She looks over at Sophie.
“Oh, not just you,” Sophie grunts before she finally drops the casserole dish back into the sink, abandoning the task, and places her hands on her hips. “You’re sending the twins over, too.”
Shock reverberates through my bones. “Wait, what?”
“Woman, I’ve been hearing you talk about all the issues you and Karan have been having for way too long. Now you’re saying things are on the up and up between you two, but it’s not going to be that way for very long if you’re not there for him when he needs you most.
“His relationship with his parents was borderline incestuous. I can’t imagine how devastated he must be. Or all the self-worth bullshit that must be going through his mind.”
Neither can I. And it kills me inside.
“You two need all the space you can get to only be there for each other and heal,” Sophie continues. “So bring the boys over. We’ll handle them.”
“Fuck yeah,” Océane adds. “I get to play Auntie to all my nieces and nephews at once.”
“Sophie, you have three kids.” One of them is still a baby. “That’s insanity.”
“Our kids get along great! They’ll love it,” she argues. “Also, you can pay it back later. Maybe. We’ll see.”
“Sophie, I can’t acce—”
“Rachel. Hear me out.” From her tone, she’s running out of patience with me. “I would much, much rather that you two be okay, even if it means Will and I will lose only a tiny bit of our sanity for a few days. Plus, Océane has been so great with the kids.”
“It would seriously make me happy,” Océane adds again.
Sophie continues bulldozing over my worries.
“We’re going to be fine, Rachel. Just—I beg you, take the help.”
My entire body is lit up with the adrenaline rush from this decision. It’s a lot to take on. I don’t know if Sophie understands what she’s getting herself and my brother into.
My boys are my responsibility. Océane is my responsibility.
But at the same time…
Part of me knows Sophie is right. Karan is not okay. If there ever was a time to prove to him that I can be there for him just as he was for me, it’s now.
I gather all of my courage before I speak.
“Okay.”