Page 19 of Stumped

“Ijustfell asleep,” a groggy and whiny voice says once the call connects.

“I texted you yesterday about calling today.”

My younger sister grunts and after much rustling, a light comes on and her face is visible. Viola’s makeup is smudged and dried on her face, making her look like a sick raccoon. She’s twenty-seven—thirteen years younger than me and eight years younger than Vikram—and the rainbow baby of our family. As you can imagine, my parents spoil her rotten and she likes to take advantage of it as often as she can.

“Oooooh, I see that chechi?5 got laid!” she squeals and my mother tsks at her.

Ihatethe term ‘chechi’, but given the age difference, we all have to suffer. However, when it’s us siblings, she calls me whatever she wants.

Varun narrows his eyes as he stares at the offending mark on my skin. “Who was it?”

“Yeah, chechi, tell us!”

I glare at my siblings and see my father watching us curiously from the corner of my eyes. I wave them off. “Not at the table.”

“Ugh, you’re so boring,” Viola adds and answers all of our mother’s questions. Mostly why she’s going to sleep at two in the morning when she’s got extra classes.

My parents thought after Varun, Vikram and I moved out, they’d get to keep Viola at home. But my sister had big plans and a year ago moved to Boston for her Masters at Berklee College of Music. We’re so proud of her even if it’s been pretty rough for my parents with an empty house.

Once the call ends, silence descends on the table and I can feel the tension. Between mouthfuls of food, I look around at my family and sigh softly. It’s one thing to know your children are adults with active social lives, but it’s a whole other thing when one shows up with a hickey and another is going to bed way too late.

When we all lived under the same roof, there were rules and we followed them perfectly. We were grounded if we brokeeven a single one. They can’t enforce too many rules now and I can see it bothers my father. He’d never say anything, but I can guarantee my parents are going to have a long conversation about this afterwards.

Breaking the quiet, my father regales us with their travel plans for the year. Ever since he retired, my parents have been travelling all over the world. We try to sneak our way into these trips, but we haven’t been successful yet. My brothers update us on their busy lives and I tell them all about the last few pitches we made. They kindly cross their fingers for me too.

Once we’re done eating, my parents retreat to the couch while the three of us clear the table. Chinnakka cooks, sets the table and washes up afterwards, but we always help with clearing up. While Vikram digs in the fridge for dessert, Varun drags me through the back door and pokes the bruise.

“What the fuck? Stop it.” I shove him off and he frowns.

“So, who was it?”

“A guy I met at a bar.”

“Does the guy have a name?”

I roll my eyes. “Does it really matter?”

“How many marks did he leave on you?”

“For fuck’s sake, why is this important?”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Seriously, Run? They’rehickeys. I wasn’t his punching bag.”

He stares at me and storms back into the house. I sigh, dropping my head. In his last relationship, Varunwasa punching bag for his almost-wife. For years, he kept the secret and only told us once they broke up. I’ve never shown up with bruises before and didn’t realise they would trigger him. When I find Varun on the front veranda, I stand beside him and stare out at the garden.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “That was a terrible choice of words and I didn’t mean to trigger you.”

“I was worried about you.”

“I know. But I promise, all of it was consensual.”

He glances at me, concern still in his eyes and nods slowly. “Still not going to tell me who he was?”

“His name is Elias. Got stood up by my Tinder date, so I spent the evening with him. Mallu, if you can believe my luck.”

“Don’t tell Amma, she’ll think you’re ready to marry him.”

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