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Zane’sdull eyes drilled into me, face set in the same discontent whenever he remembered my existence.
“It’sthis silly thing we’re doing,”Momexplained. “Ourlawyer recommended making a will and figuring out things like power of attorney and burial plots.Axelsuggested a mausoleum for our final resting place.”
Ofcourse, he did.Itwasn’t enough to monopolize every waking minute ofMom’slife; he wanted to do the same in death.
“Theysell custom-made joint coffins so we can be buried together,”Zaneadded airily.
“Butyou’reHindu,”IremindedMom. “Youbelieve in cremation.”
“Er.It’sjust an idea,”Momoffered. “Wehaven’t made any commitments.”
Nottrue.Momdid commit but to another man.
WhenIwas young,MomandPapadiscussed having their ashes scattered inLakeMichiganafter they passed.Itwas sotheycould be together in death.Atthe time, my parents seemed nauseatingly in love.Iheld ontoPapa’sashes soIcould reunite him withMomone day and rectify their story that was cut too short.
Ishouldn’t have bothered.Momhad long forgotten about her first husband.Itwas as ifPapanever existed.Nothingexisted for her anymore except forZane.
Iperused my mother, decked out in a hot pink jumpsuit with long sleeves and sparkling tassel earrings.PiyaAmbaniwouldn’t have been caught dead wearing something so bright and bold.Thatwoman would’ve opted for cremation and preferred to be put to rest withJayAmbani, the love of her life.
Onthe other hand,PiyaTrimalchio, dressed head to toe in pink,wasn’t someoneIrecognized.Thename came with a brand-new personality.Zanehad systematically erased all traces of my father from this persona.Weweren’t allowed to reminisce, miss, or celebrateJayAmbani’slife.Allhell would break loose ifMomdared to grieve him even on the anniversary of his death.Theonly thingZanecouldn’t erase aboutJayAmbaniwas me, and he begrudged it daily.
“It’snot just an idea,”Zaneargued on cue. “We’llbe buried together.”
“Hmm.”Ileisurely chewed. “Butwhat if you die first, andMommeets someone younger?Shemight prefer being buried with him.”
Zane’sfist clenched around his fork, nails digging into his palm.Thethought had crossed his mind.
Momlaughed nervously. “Idon’t know about you guys, but this morbid topic is starting to ruin dinner.”Shelifted a dish. “Trufflemac ’n’ cheese?”Mommade a show of offering her famous casserole to redirect the conversation to neutral territory.Foodwas her go-to distraction during tense moments.
Zanedidn’t take the bait. “Iwouldn’t worry about it.Whenthe love of your life dies, you mourn it forever.Meetingsomeone new only happens if you were with the wrong person to begin with.”
Istilled.Theattempt to taunt me by puttingPapadown was working.Mom’sspeedy remarriage toZanemade it difficult to dispute the allegations.Howcould she have forgotten her first husband so quickly if she cared about him?
Zaneplaced his elbow on the table and leaned forward to drive home his point. “Trustme, ifIdied, she’d be mourning me for the rest of her life.”
“Whydon’t you die and let’s find out if she does?”Iretorted.
“That’senough,”Momintervened in the heated argument with a rare stern tone and a pointed glance atNeil.
Ipressed my lips together, not wantingNeilto witness this heartwarming “family moment.”Everyonereturned to their meals.Momoffered to takeNeilwhileIfinished my dinner, but his company was therapeutic.Obliviousto the unfair world,Neilpicked at a piece of bread, engrossed in the cartoons playing on my phone.Hedidn’t protest when theYouTubeapp paused, alerting me of an incoming text.
Sophie:Can’tmeet up atm.InVegasforNewYear’s.
Poppy:Whenare you coming back?
Sophie:I’llbe staying here a while.Joinme if you want
.
Givenour complicated history withDamon’sfamily, it was apparentSophieorchestrated the anonymous threesome to push our buttons.Boredrich girls went to extreme lengths to entertain themselves.Butconfronting her about the setup would be futile.Ihad to maintain an amicable facade asSophiewas indispensable until she retracted her testimony.Ireached out in a renewed effort, but it seemed she was indisposed.Icontemplated whether a trip toVegaswas manageable.
"Badnews?"Mominquired, reading into the furrowed lines on my forehead.
Ishook my head. "Afriend of mine invited me toVegas."
“That’sexciting.Youshould go.”Momencouraged me to loosen up and embrace the last year of college life.LasVegaswas also special to both of us.
Papaattended a conference inVegasonce, promptingMomand me to join him.Despiteour differing personalities,LasVegasresonated with us.Thecity's degenerate vibe was the decadent embrace of darknessIsought, whileMomfound solace in its bright lights adorning theStrip.Theallure of gambling captivated me the first timeIstood beside a blackjack table and discovered my knack for counting cards.Meanwhile,Momimmersed herself in various popular shows, such asCirqueduSoleil.Thecity catered to good and evil, allowing us a space to find common footing.
