Dad says in a ragged voice, “All I know is, Randall cannot keep doing this.” I’ve never heard him sound like this before.
“Please, just wait until tomorrow,” my mom says, her face drawn and tired. She tries to pry the car keys out of my dad’s hand, unsuccessfully. “I don’t want you trying to talk to that man until you cool off a little.”
“There’s no cooling off about this. I have to do something.” He yanks his hand back out of my mom’s reach and takes another step toward the garage. “He could be hurting her again right now. God, I tried to tell her from the beginning what a mistake it was to marry him.”
I quickly move past them and lean against the door to the garage, my arms crossed so I don’t tremble, until they notice me standing there. My mom gives me this complicated look of apology and anxiety and frustration.
“Sunny,” she says. “I tried to call you. I was worried. You were supposed to call when you left the party. Instead hours go by, and what do I hear from you? Nothing.”
My mouth opens, then closes again. I can’t even force out a perfunctory excuse because I’m still focused on my dad, his thunderous expression, his uncharacteristic anger. It scares me. It makes him look like a stranger.
“Dad,” I finally force out, my voice raw. “Don’t go over there. Please. We’ll figure something out. We’ll help Auntie Mina.” I reach one hand back and block the doorknob, as if that will help. Tears are spilling down my cheeks. “Just tell me what happened.”
He sighs heavily and leans against the wall, letting his keys drop to the ground. “Sunny, I don’t know … I’m not sure we should involve you in this.”
“I’m already involved!” Suddenly I’m exhausted, too ex-hausted to stand, and I sink to the floor. I look down at my crossed legs. “I know she called. I know about him ‘grabbing’ her.”
“Oh, really?” Dad looks down at me, frowning. “Funny; I only heard about that tonight, myself. Why? Because your mother talked to Mina again today, and she said Randall hurt her again.” He straightens up, starts pacing the hallway. “He twisted her wrist and threatened to cut off her access to their bank accounts. And you know why? Because she told him she wants them to spend some time apart to work things out. It is not a healthy environment for her in that house, I’m telling you.”
“Al, listen,” my mom begins, in her calmest, most soo-thing everything’s-going-to-be-just-fine tone. “I’m sorry. I should have told you right away the first time she called. But Mina said it would blow over.” Her voice is pained now. “Honest to God, I believed her. She made me promise not to say anything.”
“Oh, is that right.” Dad’s voice is bitter, and I cringe. “But you still told Sunny? You told her and not me? No guys allowed?” He looks at Mom steadily.
“I guessed about the phone call,” I blurt out. “Mom didn’t tell me.”
“That’s a pretty uncanny guess.” Dad glares at me.
“It’s true! I … ” I hesitate for a moment, then realize I have something to say. Something important. I stand up again. “That Sunday, when we were over at their house for dinner, I helped Auntie Mina clean up. When we were in the kitchen … ” I swallow, hard, past a lump in my throat. “I saw a bruise on her shoulder. She said it was an accident, but … ”
“Oh, God—” Mom chokes off whatever she was going to say. My dad stands up straight again, his face dark with rage, and clenches his fists at his side as if he’s trying not to hit something. I shrink back, despite myself.
He’d never hurt anyone. I don’t think he would. Maybe he’s planning to make an exception for Uncle Randall.
“Deb.” Now he sounds deadly calm, despite the expression on his face, his tense body language. “You’re right. If I go over there now, I might make things worse. Or I might just kill him outright,” he adds in a not-very-quiet undertone. “But—”
“Dad!” Now I’m yanking his arm as he starts to walk purposefully back toward the kitchen.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sun. But,” he says, shaking me off, “I am going to pick up that phone and call my sister.”
Mom follows us into the kitchen and sits at the table, massaging her temples. “Fine. But if Randall picks up, you are not going to yell at him, you are not going to threaten him! Please promise me you’re just going to talk for now.”
Dad stops. He sighs, then nods.
I don’t say anything, but I pull up a chair next to my mom and press the heels of my hands into my forehead. Since the moment I ran through the front door, nothing has seemed quite real. Just when I was getting used to everything that’s changed, my life feels strange and unfamiliar again. Even our kitchen, with the same green-striped curtains and boring beige countertops we’ve had since I was a kid, seems like someone else’s kitchen. I hunch over, picking at a shoelace. Then my new shoes remind me of Mikaela and I don’t want to think anymore.
I snap back into focus at the soft beep of the phone’s “talk” button. My dad is holding the cordless, pacing back and forth as he waits for someone to pick up on the other end. I lace my fingers together and twist them tightly until my knuckles pop.
“Mina,” my dad finally says, his whole voice a sigh of relief. My hands instinctively relax. “You’re okay?” It’s a question, not a statement. Mom and I sit there waiting. I hold my breath and sit as quietly as I can, though there’s no way I can hear what Auntie Mina is saying on the other end.
“Okay, well, we were worried about you.” My dad’s voice barely hides his tension.
“Why? You know why!” He sounds incredulous now. “You called Debby again. And Sunny said—” He breaks off after my mom shoots him a warning glare. There’s silence on our end for a moment. I don’t know if Mina is talking to him or if they’re both just sitting there saying nothing.
“But, today when you talked to—okay,” he finally says, quietly. “Well … ” He seems at a loss, lost, his eyes sad now instead of angry. “Just—if anything else happens—if you—we’re here, Mina.” I look away, stare at the patterns of texture on the ceiling, confused. It seems like Auntie Mina is blowing him off, telling him nothing’s going on. But we all know that isn’t true.
“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do? Do you want me to come get you? You can stay here until … as long as you want.”
There’s another long pause.
“Okay. Oh … Okay. Call if you need to. Yep. Bye.”
“Oh, honey—” Mom jumps in as soon as Dad hangs up. “There’s something very wrong here. It doesn’t take a genius or a psychic to know it.” I fidget. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes. “I think Randall must know she said something to me,” Mom continues. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the first time she called.”
“He’d better not hurt her again or he’ll have me to answer to,” Dad says, as if he’s an action hero who can solve everything with a good kung fu scene: Dorky South Asian Professor Man! Beware his hairy knuckles of fury.
“Oh, honey, really. But I’m at a loss. She asked us not to interfere. Even though we can see how bad things are,” my mom says grimly.
“But what if she only said that because Uncle Randall was listening in?” I put in, stretching my legs out in front of me. My parents look at me, startled, as if they’ve forgotten I’m here. I’m surprised my mom’s feminist training isn’t rearing its head, that she isn’t going on the warpath with Ms. magazines in hand to rescue Auntie Mina from oppression. I guess things are more complicated when it’s happening in your own family.