Trail of Broken Wings by Sejal Badani Read Free Book Online

saying. You should ask him.”
    “I’ll ask him after the wedding.”
    “That’ll be too late. You get it from sex.”
    “Gross.” Sonya’s eyes widen. “I know about sex. It’s this.” She makes a circle with one hand and uses her finger to go in and out.
    Marin smacks her hand gently. “Don’t do that again.”
    “Why don’t you call and ask him?” Trisha admires herself in the mirror. “If he has it, then you don’t have to marry him.”
    “I’m not allowed to call him.” Marin looks away.
    “I don’t want you to go,” both Sonya and Trisha say at the same time.
    Marin’s eyes shut as she pulls both sisters in tight, her childlike arms around their young bodies. “I know.”

RANEE
    She wakes at the first sign of light, which slips through the curtains, teasing her like a gentle feather. Though only a sliver, it brightens the room. A reminder that no matter how much she welcomes the quiet of the night, the day will always follow. Today feels different. She lies still in bed, listening for the reason why. Yet again, she reminds herself that he is not in the house, waiting for her. Her mornings always started with dread. Sure that no matter what time she awoke it was still too late. He always seemed to be up a few minutes before her, angry that his breakfast was not ready.
    Once she stayed up all night, counting the minutes until it was proper for her to slip downstairs and begin making chai the way he liked it. At four in the morning, her heavy lids had demanded just a few minutes of closure. She had acquiesced, promising herself only ten minutes of sleep, and woke with a start three hours later when he grabbed her leg.
    Ranee knew fear gripped Brent back then. He was afraid of this new world that even after decades still felt foreign to him. Working every day among strangers and colleagues who asked why he smelled like garlic and onion, staples of Indian cooking. Demanded to knowwhy his lips held a sheen of yellow around their rim. When he explained he started his morning with turmeric milk, they laughed and said milk was for kids. This was America and here a man took his coffee black. They brought him a cup and insisted he down the bitter liquid. Every morning after, he filled a mug with it and let it sit on his desk to appease anyone watching.
    Brent yearned for the familiarity of India, of living among those who looked like he did and spoke the same language. He tried once to bring a tape player to work and listen to Indian songs with headphones. When the jack accidentally fell out, the songs blared through the office. Teased for hours afterward, he slipped the tape player into his desk drawer and never brought it out again. Brent had lost his life in hopes of making it better. It was a gamble he regretted always.
    Ranee shakes the memories away. Those days are behind her. She allows the thought to sweep over her. As it does, she remembers the reason why today feels different. Her daughter is home. Asleep down the hall, in her childhood bed. A prickle of tears as a smile tugs at her lips. Her family finally together again. She wonders at the road Sonya has traveled. Ranee surrendered her own love of adventure when she was married off at the age of eighteen. Her father was sure he had found a good man for her. It did not occur to him to ask if she thought the same.
    As she sits up in bed, the covers slip down to her waist. Her hair falls to her shoulders. Peppered with gray, it frames her petite face. Her long eyelashes cover her eyes as she closes them in quick prayer. It’s been her habit to start every morning the same way. A few seconds to ask God to protect her children, as she was unable to. The first time was two months after Marin was born. Brent had taken Marin from her arms when she cried for milk. He insisted she was better off with his mother, who lived with them. She knew how to discipline children, he said. Years later, Ranee wanted to ask if his mother had been the one who taught