BooksBarbecue
Back Side by Side Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Cover Page
  2. Half Title Page
  3. SIDE by SIDE
  4. Dedication Page
  5. Epigraph
  6. Part I: Fall
  7. 1.
  8. 2.
  9. 3.
  10. 4.
  11. 5.
  12. Part II: Crawl
  13. 6.
  14. 7.
  15. 8.
  16. 9.
  17. 10.
  18. 11.
  19. 12.
  20. 13.
  21. 14.
  22. 15.
  23. 16.
  24. 17.
  25. 18.
  26. 19.
  27. 20.
  28. 21.
  29. 22.
  30. 23.
  31. 24.
  32. 25.
  33. 26.
  34. 27.
  35. 28.
  36. 29.
  37. 30.
  38. 31.
  39. Part III: Rise
  40. 32.
  41. 33.
  42. 34.
  43. 35.
  44. 36.
  45. 37.
  46. 38.
  47. 39.
  48. 40.
  49. Acknowledgements
  50. About the Author

Slowly, he lowers the album and lets it rest in the bowl formed by his crossed legs.

“I know we want answers,” she continues after a short pause. “I know we want to understand where things went wrong. I’m just not sure we ever will. Blaming yourself isn’t going to help.”

Yes, the survivor in her agrees, its voice small and still. Listen to yourself, Kavita.

She keeps her eyes locked on her father’s face, broken by loss. Those words don’t apply to me, she tells it.

That’s right, says Anchor. It pulls, pulls, pulls.

“I am his father. It was my job to protect him. I should have paid more attention.”

“Well, I’m his sister, and I didn’t do any better.”

“We are both failures, then.”

She might have challenged him with a look if she did not agree, at least as far as the matter concerned herself.

A silent minute passes.

“I need a new album,” her father says at last.

“We can go together.”

“Challo,” he says, tilting his head to one side.

“Wait. What about Mom? We shouldn’t leave her on her own.”

“Where is she?”

“In Sunil’s room.”

He nods, tensing his mouth.

“Have you talked at all?”

He shakes his head. “Not since the memorial. Part of me thought this would bring us closer together. Maybe we would help each other, like in the old days before you kids were born. But she just ignores me now. So I leave her alone. What can I do?”

“Maybe she’s waiting for you to make the first move.” She clutches inside, the way she had as a girl whenever her parents would fight, which happened often enough to gnaw at her sense of safety. Back then, she moved between them like a needle and thread, desperate to mend the latest tear in their marriage.

“What can I do?” he shrugs. “She never listens to me anyway. I am glad you are here, beti. You have always been the peacemaker in this family. You should have been a therapist.”

A flash of a frown, then she recomposes herself. “I’ll go. I won’t be long. Call my cell if you need anything.”

“Okay, beti.” He gazes at the album again. “Maybe buy two albums. Remember to ask for a receipt.”

She grins at him and says, “I’ll remember.”