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intheheartTitle: gone
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Sonali and her sisters clear out Maya's room.
Date: Spring 2006
Warnings: mention of underage drinking.
Notes: none
Mama set them to cleaning out Maya's room, all the detritus and small treasures of a young life half-lived. She had so many things, Sonali thought, folding her sister's clothes and stacking it neatly in a drawer. Brightly colored t-shirts, pants, and skirts, a green-and-gold embroidered sari she hated to wear but always took care of nevertheless. Even her underwear was brightly colored, pinks and greens and oranges, the brilliant colors Maya loved.
Loved. She was already thinking of her sister in the past tense.
Which was ridiculous. Maya wasn't dead. Though she might as well be.
Across the room, Kamini drew in a sharp breath. Sonali looked over at her younger sister, grateful for the distraction. "What is it?"
"She had a fake ID," Kamini said, and held it up; a rather good picture of Maya looking at least five years older, with a birthdate to match. "What could she possibly use this for?"
Sonali closed her eyes, and sat down on the bed, holding a t-shirt to her chest. "I don't know."
"Nothing good," Kamini muttered.
Priya rolled her eyes, and slammed a book down into the box she was filling. "Don't act like such a prig," she snapped. "Maybe she just wanted to go to clubs, okay? Some of us like to dance."
Kamini sniffed, and put the ID into her own box, delicately, as if she didn't want to touch it. "Then she should've gone to school dances."
Priya balled her fist, and Sonali intervened. "Girls," she said, quietly. "What Maya did is... it's not important now."
Priya and Kamini looked at her, then lowered their eyes to their laps. Sonali turned away and began packing up Maya's candles, setting aside the bundle of matches that her sister must have purloined from the kitchen. The candles were burnt and melted, drippings all down their sides. What had Maya been praying for so fervently?
As if she had to ask.
So many small things. Little parachute toys. A postcard from the Metropolitan, of a pretty painting with a "fuck you" scrawled across it in unsteady handwriting. A bottle of Jack Daniels that Sonali quickly hid beneath Maya's clothes. If Kamini said one more thing about their lost sister... a lump rose in her throat, and she clenched her hands on the cardboard box until the edges bit into her palm. Maya was gone forever, and all any of them could do was judge her.
"Ew," Priya said, unearthing an ancient box of takeout and dropping it instantly into the trash. "KFC. I thought she had better taste in food."
Sonali closed her eyes, and fought back the tears.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Sonali and her sisters clear out Maya's room.
Date: Spring 2006
Warnings: mention of underage drinking.
Notes: none
Mama set them to cleaning out Maya's room, all the detritus and small treasures of a young life half-lived. She had so many things, Sonali thought, folding her sister's clothes and stacking it neatly in a drawer. Brightly colored t-shirts, pants, and skirts, a green-and-gold embroidered sari she hated to wear but always took care of nevertheless. Even her underwear was brightly colored, pinks and greens and oranges, the brilliant colors Maya loved.
Loved. She was already thinking of her sister in the past tense.
Which was ridiculous. Maya wasn't dead. Though she might as well be.
Across the room, Kamini drew in a sharp breath. Sonali looked over at her younger sister, grateful for the distraction. "What is it?"
"She had a fake ID," Kamini said, and held it up; a rather good picture of Maya looking at least five years older, with a birthdate to match. "What could she possibly use this for?"
Sonali closed her eyes, and sat down on the bed, holding a t-shirt to her chest. "I don't know."
"Nothing good," Kamini muttered.
Priya rolled her eyes, and slammed a book down into the box she was filling. "Don't act like such a prig," she snapped. "Maybe she just wanted to go to clubs, okay? Some of us like to dance."
Kamini sniffed, and put the ID into her own box, delicately, as if she didn't want to touch it. "Then she should've gone to school dances."
Priya balled her fist, and Sonali intervened. "Girls," she said, quietly. "What Maya did is... it's not important now."
Priya and Kamini looked at her, then lowered their eyes to their laps. Sonali turned away and began packing up Maya's candles, setting aside the bundle of matches that her sister must have purloined from the kitchen. The candles were burnt and melted, drippings all down their sides. What had Maya been praying for so fervently?
As if she had to ask.
So many small things. Little parachute toys. A postcard from the Metropolitan, of a pretty painting with a "fuck you" scrawled across it in unsteady handwriting. A bottle of Jack Daniels that Sonali quickly hid beneath Maya's clothes. If Kamini said one more thing about their lost sister... a lump rose in her throat, and she clenched her hands on the cardboard box until the edges bit into her palm. Maya was gone forever, and all any of them could do was judge her.
"Ew," Priya said, unearthing an ancient box of takeout and dropping it instantly into the trash. "KFC. I thought she had better taste in food."
Sonali closed her eyes, and fought back the tears.
