“I don’t expect you to understand, Kavita. You’ve never been caged in a bad marriage. You’ve never lost a child.”

Although Blaze settled during the car ride over, now it churns, an inner Coriolis effect of fire in her belly. She clenches her fist. Focuses on the pain. This pain she can manage.

“We all lost Sunil.”

“It’s not the same.”

“We’re all in pain. We all loved him.”

“When you’re a mother, you’ll understand.”

Kavita can’t squeeze her fist any tighter. Blaze climbs. Up. Up. Up. She breathes its fire.

“When was the last time you went to India? Ten years ago? Now all of a sudden you want to live there again?”

“I’ve wanted to leave this country almost as soon as I arrived. I have never felt at home here. My family is in India. I belong in India.”

“Aren’t I your family?”

“You are married now, Kavita. Soon you will start a family of your own. You don’t need me anymore.”

“Of course I still need you. I’ll always need you, Mom.”

“Kavita, stop being childish.”

“What about the renovations? You were so excited about them. Weren’t you planning on remodelling the kitchen? Maybe once the house gets a little freshened up, you’ll feel at home again. Like a fresh start. Isn’t that what you called it?”

“Let the next owners worry about the kitchen. This isn’t my home anymore.”

“But it’s Sunil’s home. It’s my home. We grew up here. We played in the yard and ate meals at this table and measured our heights on that wall,” pointing to her left. “Do you really want to give all that away? ”

“Those are just memories. I have to face reality. Sunil is gone. I have no one to taken care of me in my old age. I have to think about my own welfare.”

“Mom, I’m right here. I haven’t abandoned you. You can depend on me. I know our family isn’t the same, and it never will be, but if we stick together, I know we can get through this. Please. I’m begging you. Stay. Take down the sign. Let some time pass.”

While she awaits her mother’s decree, Kavita feels as helpless as a girl again, at the mercy of her parents’ moods and fights and vitriolic silences. The difference now is she doesn’t have Sunil standing by her side, shoring her up.

“Kavita,” her mother says. “Stop this. I’m tired. My mind is made up. I’m leaving. I’ve already booked my ticket.”

“Then go,” Kavita pleads, “but let me take care of the house. Please. I’m not ready to let it go, yet.”