Fight Like a Girl - Sheena Kamal Page 0,34

on the box, so if you need to get your birth papers and all that, all you need is the key.”

I’m still mad, even though I got exactly what I asked for. “Can I have the key?”

“No.” But that settles it, according to her.

I’m happy, too.

I’ve just seen her put the key in the leopard-print makeup bag she keeps in the glove compartment.

The next day Aunty K shows up and says she’ll be here for just the weekend. I don’t know why. I was supposed to go and see her for March Break, which is in just a few weeks. That’s what the big deal about the passport was for. She said she got someone to run the shop while she’s away. I get the sense that something’s happening with her and Ma. Pammy seems to know about it, too, which makes sense since the three of them have been disappearing together for a good couple years—even before Dad died. But I see it differently now.

It’s all about the way they look at Ravi.

I notice the tension in them right away during Sunday lunch because the whispers stop when me and Columbus come into the room. It’s always like that with Ma, Pammy and Aunty K. They’re usually really chatty when they’re together, but they don’t like to include anyone else. Behind us is Ravi, who doesn’t seem to realize how weird this is for everyone but him. Even Columbus notices and he’s usually unaware of anything but the food on the table at times like this.

Let’s get out of here, he texts. They’re freaking me out.

And get my ass whooped? I reply.

He makes some excuse about homework and bails before lunch. I don’t think Pammy even notices. I should have gone with him, but there’s something about Ma that scares me. There’s silence around the table as we eat macaroni pie and callaloo with crab. Ravi’s oblivious. Nobody says anything about how he’s sitting in my dad’s chair. Maybe it’s not much of a difference to them, but it’s huge for me.

Now I get it.

It’s not the quiet, so much. It’s not even that they all look completely burnt out. Dark circles under every set of eyes and grey hair showing on everyone’s roots. It’s the looks directed toward Ravi when he’s not looking. He talks to Ma, but Pammy and Aunty K are staring only at him. He turns to ask me to pass the pepper sauce and all three of them zero in with their eerie looks, saying things to each other with them that Ravi and I aren’t a part of.

Difference is, I know it’s happening.

I’ve never met anyone more oblivious than Ravi, and I train at a Muay Thai gym where fighters can lose a brain cell or three hundred after a while.

Ravi squeezes Ma’s ass while she clears the dishes from the table. I think I throw up in my mouth a little. Wait, a lot.

Her smile has a hard edge to it, which he also doesn’t notice. He’s only eaten half of what’s on his plate and seems weaker for it. He’s lost weight and not in any of the good areas. The muscles in his arms are withering and I bet I can lift more than him now. He wanders into the living room and changes the channel on the TV to cricket, which is barely a sport.

Ma takes his plate away. The three of them, Ma, Pammy, Aunty K, seem satisfied somehow.

I can’t stand it. The looks!

Like they know things, secret things. Female things. And I’m back to the day of Dad’s funeral, when they were all in this kitchen, looking at each other. Something passing between them. I’m frightened but I can’t seem to move either. I want some of what Columbus has, that boy obliviousness I’ve never had the luxury of losing myself to.

I want the gym, too, but it’s closed. The last time I was there, I took Dad’s phone from the locker and put it back into my bag. Now I wish I’d just left it there. I don’t even know what to do with it, to be honest.

I go upstairs and strip down to my underwear and start to shadowbox in the mirror. The food I just ate threatens to come back up, but I will it to settle because I need my strength. After twenty minutes, I’m covered in sweat and bored of moving around this tiny rectangular room, so I drop and do push-ups