Jaya had always felt responsible for her little brother and served as his counsel, being the first to reach all the major milestones of graduate school, marriage, home and children. But now, she found herself comfortable with him in a way she only could be with someone who had known her all her life. They spoke conspiratorially about their mother, as they had when they were young, comparing notes on the meticulousness of her vegetable chopping and the way she shooed everyone out of the kitchen when she was cooking. Jaya now felt a deep ache for her brother and her parents, who all lived so far away. Some part of her imagined moving closer to them, feeling the urge to cling to the family she had left. Her mother and Dev offered the unspoken familiarity of her childhood, reminding Jaya of who she was at her core, before she’d formed this new life of hers, which now seemed to be splintering.

12 | Karina

August 2009

The yellow roses were in full bloom. Karina had been watching the bushes for weeks, watering them in the morning and giving them special rose food from the carton in the garage. Normally, her mother tended the roses herself—it was the one area of the garden she didn’t ask anyone to help with. Karina stroked one of the pale yellow petals to its base and was surprised by how firm and strong the flower bud was. Following the stem down with her finger, she landed upon the first thorn and lingered there for a moment. She pushed her finger into the tip of the thorn for a second . . . two . . . three. The release flooded through her, and her hand dropped away.

She leaned forward and inhaled the fragrance. Her mom would love these, she thought, reaching for the clippers. Karina arranged four stems at different stages of bloom in a tall vase and placed them at the center of the kitchen table, where her mother sat, drinking a cup of tea and idly flipping through a newspaper.

“Oh,” Mom said when she looked up and noticed the roses. She reached out toward one of the flowers but stopped short and pulled back her hand. “Isn’t that beautiful?” she said, turning to look at Karina. “From outside?”

Karina nodded, smiling. Her mother’s gaze shifted to the window overlooking their backyard, and she seemed to stare at something invisible off in the distance. “It seems wrong for beauty to still exist in the world, doesn’t it?”

* * *

The empty summer days left Karina with long hours to spend with her grandmother, with the occasional escape to Izzy’s house. Izzy was the only one who treated her normally after Prem died. She didn’t look at her with sad eyes nor did she avoid her, as did most kids. When Karina was in a bad mood or didn’t feel like talking, Izzy let her be. Of all her friends, Izzy had known Prem the best, including all his funny little habits. Sometimes she would mention him, like when they ate ice cream sandwiches. Izzy recalled how Prem used to lick the ice cream out from between the chocolate wafers, digging his little tongue into that groove until it became deeper and deeper, holding it up proudly to show them.