father, while I played nearby.
I’d been young, probably five or six, but the memory was vivid to the point that it hurt against the eye. As if the contrast had been turned up, every painful color made extra dramatic. The red on her toenails, the shine that came off her thin gold anklet, the strokes of scarlet on her lips.
I’d often wondered if Shanti knew that, different paint job or not, she lived in a home shaped by the tastes and whims of another woman and the man who had always tried to own my mother and failed. Even back then, when they’d still been mostly functional as a couple, there had been an edge between them, a vicious sharpness to every interaction.
“This looks delicious,” I said after taking in the dishes on the table.
“I made your favorite pickles.”
“Mama.” Pari ran into the room, skidding to a halt the instant she saw a male, then breaking out into a smile when she realized it was me and not our father.
She quickly took the seat beside me, so that my body would screen hers from view. I tugged on one of her pigtails just as our father entered the room. The smiles faded, the air became brittle.
He sat down at the head of the table, Shanti to his right and me to his left.
“How did you do in school today?” he demanded of Pari.
Shrinking into her seat, my sister looked down at her hands. “The teacher said I did good.”
“Anything would be better than your last report. We don’t get Bs in this family.”
“Is that your priority today?” I broke in silkily before taking a sip of the water Shanti always put beside my plate in lieu of wine.
“We’re hardly going to discuss adult business with a child at the table.”
“Then let’s feed the child and get her to bed so we can talk.” I suited action to words by starting to serve myself.
My father’s lips pressed together, but I’d succeeded in distracting him. Shanti bustled around at the same time to dish things out for my father. She’d been doing that as long as I could remember.
I’d been eighteen when my father remarried—almost exactly a week after the divorce was finalized—and the first time I saw them interact, Shanti was bringing him a cup of coffee while he sat at the table reading the paper.
Today, he nodded curtly to show her he had enough of that particular dish.
Shanti went around to pick up another dish, while my father told her she needed to make more masala chili pickles as he was almost down to his last one.
I caught Pari’s gaze and winked while he was distracted. Her smile was fleeting but it returned when I scratched the side of my nose. I’d taught her the signal long ago—it meant I’d hidden a sweet treat in her bedroom.
I’d done it while she was in the kitchen after school, knowing tonight would be a bad night and that there was a good chance she’d be caught in the crossfire. It was how my father operated. He’d ripped me to shreds each time he and my mother had a fight, but I’d had the advantage of being obnoxiously clever and not giving a shit. I’d brought home straight As without trying.
When he pushed me too far, I made sure those glowing As turned into red Fs.
He’d soon learned to leave me alone unless he wanted to be shamed by a son who had to repeat a year of school. Pari was clever, too, but she wasn’t obnoxious. No, my younger sister was empathic to the extreme, the kind of person who carried bugs outside and worried whether the birds had enough to drink in summer.
We ate in chill silence. When Shanti tried to start conversation with an innocuous comment about how Paul and Margaret were thinking of getting a new dog now that their old one had been gone for a year, my father snapped, “At least they always cleaned up after their damn incontinent poodle. Not like the Fitzpatricks and their slobbering beast.”
Much as it pained me to agree with my father on anything, he wasn’t wrong there. The power couple, who were both senior associates in a major corporate law firm, had a habit of allowing their German shepherd to use their neighbors’ verges and even their gardens as its toilet. I’d seen poor Diana screwing up her nose and using a plastic bag to clear away a deposit left in