The Living Room

“Today’s not a good day,” Mom said guardedly when Meena asked if she could have her friend over to the house.

Vidhya, Meena’s older sister, clenched her teeth, knowing that their mother was right. It broke her heart when Meena didn’t catch on right away.

“Why?” Meena whined. “I finished my homework!”

“I know, honey,” Mom’s voice was tired. “Just...not today, okay?”

Vidhya looked at her little sister pointedly, trying to convey sentences with her eyes. The younger girl remained oblivious, sure that she was being served some injustice. Vidhya got her head involved, jerking her chin and shifting her eyes toward the living room, from which the sound of a cheering sports crowd blasted at a too-high volume.

Meena’s face fell. She finally understood. Rather than stick around and bond with Vidhya and their mother about it, Meena just huffed and clomped off to her room, likely to Facetime her friend and dance around the details of why Britt couldn’t visit the Jain household today. Another day, maybe. But not today.

*

“Yeah, my mom’s just being annoying,” Meena rolled her eyes at Britt, whose face currently filled her phone screen.

“That blows,” said Britt dramatically. “Like, why can’t parents just chill, right?”

“Right...” Meena’s head wasn’t entirely in the conversation, but Britt didn’t seem to notice.

“I mean, did she tell you why, at least?”

“Something about, uh,” Meena fumbled for a believable story that wouldn’t entirely paint her mom as a villain, but maybe just “annoying”, as Meena had originally phrased it. Nothing about her dad, of course, but since he was occupying so much of her mind and emotions...it felt impossible to concoct an excuse that didn’t involve him. “...uh, I have to help with dinner tonight,” she said lamely. “Some family friends are coming over.”

“On a Wednesday?” Britt asked incredulously. Meena could tell her friend believed the story, but thought Meena’s life to be a strange one.

“Er-yeah. It’s totally weird, but I don’t make the rules.”

“I can’t wait to be an adult,” Britt declared.

Meena’s eyes lit up, relishing the idea of a future away from this house where they tiptoed around the proverbial elephant in the literal living room. “Neither can I,” she agreed, and the two girls dove into the fantasy of what their thriving twenties would look like.

*

“I wish we didn’t have to whisper,” Vidhya whispered to her mother.

“I know, honey, it’s not fair,” said Mom with pitying eyes. “Maybe someday we’ll have the courage...”

“Not likely,” Vidhya cut in bitterly.

Her mother had no response, which, despite Vidhya’s mature age, gave her a nauseating feeling of helplessness. The sports crowd roared, accompanied by a violently triumphant shout from theirs truly. As usual, the women ignored it. At least, Mom appeared to be unfazed. Vidhya left the room without saying anything, mimicking her sister’s departure in a more muted fashion.

Once in her room, Vidhya did not reach out to a welcoming ear. To be honest, she didn’t have one. And if she did...she was terrible at dancing around fire. She’d inevitably cause it to spread, and that’s not what she wanted. Their fire had to be contained to this house, never to ignite in the presence of another soul. As a result, it burned up the women from the inside.

*

The three Jain women did not say anything as the family ate dinner that evening, but the meal was not eaten in silence. Words were spoken. Ignored for the sake of peace. To be addressed later. If the women could find the courage.

In the kitchen, as they cleaned, they could finally exhale…but it was only ever a partial release. The sound of the TV once again drifted in from the living room. This time, an action film.

“I love that movie,” said Meena wistfully as she scooped leftover curried chicken into a plastic container.

Abrupt, hearty laughter burst from their father. One might think he had a group of friends with him, but the women knew he only needed one thing to have a good time. And because of that one thing, he was alone.

“Maybe we can just throw it all out,” Vidhya said bitterly, not needing to clarify what “it all” meant. “Then there’d be no reason not to—” she waved her hands around them, at the post-dinner state of the kitchen.

“He’ll find a way,” Mom said, and slid another plate into the dishwasher. “Just ignore it, girls.”

“I don’t want to,” Vidhya’s voice shook with anger, but despite the words, she didn’t sound petulant at all.

“Vidhi,” her younger sister reprimanded. She received a glare in response.

“We’re almost done here, girls,” Mom said in a practiced manner. “Then you can go and watch.”

“I don’t want to watch,” Meena scoffed.

“But you just said—” Vidhya countered.

“Doesn’t mean I want to watch with—” Meena jerked her chin toward the living room as her sister had done a few hours before.

The living room mini-fridge opened and closed. Vidhya squeezed her eyes shut. A pointless measure, given that what she really wanted was to block out the sound that followed.

“Glug, glug, glug-glug-glug-glug-glug,” Meena imitated the obscene amount of liquid being poured.

Mom made a noise of protest. “I don’t need to hear it twice.”

The mini-fridge opened and closed again, followed by the hiss of the leather sofa-cushion reclaiming its occupant.

“Tshh,” Meena offered as the cushion released air.

Vidhya groaned. “I have a headache. Why do I have to be the one with a headache?”

Mom rubbed Vidhya’s shoulders lovingly. “My daughters,” she sighed. “You can’t let it get to you like this. You have your own lives to enjoy. His shouldn’t be your concern.”

Her girls eyed her sadly. Skeptically.

A solemn moment in the action movie brought a brief quiet upon the house. The breathed in the stillness, until an obnoxious car insurance commercial jangled them awake. Their father wandered happily into the kitchen, and the three women painted on pleasant faces. They were nearly done cleaning by now.

“My lovely ladies,” he proclaimed.

Vidhya smiled, a saccharine thing. She finished wiping the counter, threw away the paper towel, and proclaimed, “I have a headache. Good night!”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” her father called after her. And he pulled out the whiskey for the rest of his own good night.