The Arrangement

Chapter Two: A Forever Kinda Holiday

Despite my overwhelming fear, I managed to fall asleep that night and woke up to my mother tearing apart my wardrobe.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. My short and spiky hair stabbed my eyeballs from several different directions. I watched my mother tug my clothes from their hangers and dump them in a suitcase. My first thought was that they were sending me away.

"What's happening?" I asked cautiously.

She didn't look up as she answered, simply packed with fearful determination. "We're going to India."

So they were sending me out of the country. There's no way I was going to let that happen. I opened my mouth to argue, but noticed the clothes she was packing were mostly my Indian clothes such as my salwar kameez and, most of all, my heavy and beautiful lehenga's that I only wore for weddings.

I hesitated. "Is someone getting married?"

My mother tsked in annoyance, a sound that told me I couldn't ask any more questions. I watched her for a while. My mother, Savatri Sharma, was born a modern thinker in a society that stayed true to its old ways. At least that's what she liked to tell me, and from the stories she told me, I believed it to be true.

She used to be a girl who fought, but over time I got the feeling the world she lived in had managed to bend her to their will. Sometimes I looked for that girl when my father did something true to a misogynist, but she never rose to the surface again. Today however, I was depending on that girl.

"About last night..." I started, unsure how to continue.

"Aditi, stop talking and get dressed. We leave for the airport in an hour."

An hour!?

The short amount of time pulled me out of bed. I got dressed while my mother wasn't looking as fast as I could. If we were all going to India together, then I didn't have anything to be worried about. Maybe it was a last minute decision. Maybe it had to do with something they were discussing last night. I didn't need to be afraid.

I brushed and showered, letting my hair dry in whatever direction it preferred. Thankfully, last nights incident hadn't exposed the numerous tattoos I had on myself. I had managed to pull the covers over myself in time. My clothes usually kept them hidden, as I always chose a spot where they would be covered. Some designs I got randomly, when the need to clear my mind arose, when all I wanted was to feel the throb of the needle and to forget about my life. Others I got over weeks of planning.

There were roses along one side of my ribcage, running down to my hips. A detailed, Indian design ran across my shoulder blades and thinned out down my spine. There was a crown on the top right side of my pelvis - that one was a random choice. There's plenty more, but it would probably take too long to describe.

I went downstairs, wondering whether I had an appetite to eat anything. My father, Raj, was at the dining table, glasses perched on his nose, a newspaper in front of him. His empty plate and cup told me he had already finished breakfast, and must've finished packing to have the time to read a newspaper.

"She's finally awake," he said as I entered.

I kept my gaze down, lingering by the kitchen counter. His tone sounded light, which was unusual.

"Last night," he started. My heart started to race. I grabbed the edge of the counter and waited. "...there was a lot of noise. I thought I heard your mother shouting. What did you do?"

Heat spread across my face. So she hadn't told him. I shook my head. "Nothing. I just... I was taking a glass of water to my room and I dropped it. She got angry about that."