about me, Dad?”
“You don’t need me anymore.”
What?
A whirlwind of images, chronicling my life as Dad’s rani, zoom through my mind. Quarter Pounders at McDonald’s, despite Mom’s pleas to him to raise me vegetarian. Hiking in the Appalachians without Mom. The trip to Oahu the year before he declared he was moving to Moloka’i while Mom stayed behind and worked.
Even after moving to Moloka’i, it was still him and me. At the store and restaurant. The activist meetings. Hiking and fishing. I think he genuinely wanted the best for me. A better life than he had growing up in Gujarat.
But Mom paid the price because she was never on his radar.
Over the years, he gave me all of his many forms of attention—the I love you’s, the countless hours spent, the private conversations with no filters. And like a sponge, I soaked it all up.
Rani, you’re all I need.
Rani, it’s just you and me.
Rani, tell me what to buy Mom so she calms down.
Rani, Mom’s gooso. It’s because she had a rough childhood. Just stay out of her way.
Then there were the other private things. An all too familiar shiver creeps down my spine and my body trembles. I think about my slam poem.
So daughter became child bride…
I can’t let myself go there. Mom’s here and she doesn’t know about all that. Quickly, I lock those memories away and toss the key.
Instead, I dredge up other memories—the ones of him praising me. All he had to do was shower me with his affection and attention and I’d let him do anything to me. And I’d do anything for him—anything to ensure I’d keep getting my fix.
So child bride became Dad’s attention junkie…
I’d ask him about his day. Make him feel better if he had a bad one. I’d listen. Obey. Never talk back. Straight A’s—always. Chores and work at the store and restaurant—above and beyond. On-call expert couples’ counselor. And I didn’t need a degree. I had lots of experience.
Sometimes I’d even forget I had opinions of my own. In my mind, he could do no wrong. He knew everything. If I stayed close to him, I’d feel good and everything would work out. If I listened to him, I’d succeed in life.
And I didn’t mind the isolation. It meant he wanted to be with me the most. If my friendships went beyond casual, Dad interfered. This one time, after we first moved to Moloka’i and still lived in Maunaloa, he accused two of my new friends of letting all the Ranch cows into our yard. There was cow shit everywhere and Dad was furious. Thinking about it now, there’s no way two kids could have done that. How could he not know that? Guess it was a good excuse to cut me off from them. At the time I didn’t think anything of it. A life outside of him seemed unnecessary.
It was all about him. I got good at all about him. An authority on the subject, in fact.
And the ultimate reward was when he said, “I love you, Rani. What would I do without you?” His approval became my life-sustaining force.
I’ve looked up to him for so long, I don’t know where else to look.
And now he’s saying I don’t need him.
“It’s not fair, Dad! I’m the one you really love. Not Wendy! What about me? Don’t you love me?”
“I do, but I’m committed to Wendy now.”
I’m speechless. My head hurts. I rest my forehead on the table. No one speaks. Minutes pass. Dad tries a new tactic. Running his fingers over his stubbly beard, he whispers, “Rani betta, you have to help me.”
I lift my head up. “How could you even ask Mom and me to live with Wendy?”
“Don’t you want us all to stay together?”
“Of course I want us to stay together.” I draw an imaginary circle with my finger encompassing the three of us. “But not with Wendy.”
“I’m not leaving Wendy, Rani. You’ve always helped Mom and me fix things. You have to help us all stay together.”
I almost fall for it. Then I take a look at Mom. Even though she hasn’t moved, tears streak her cheeks. There are no words of selfharm. Only silent sorrow.
“I’m not going to fix things this time!”
Dad opens his mouth to retort.
“Bhus. Chuup. Both of you. That’s enough,” Mom says.
Flabbergasted, I press my lips together. My tears stop.
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