Page 88 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

My parents were at the kitchen table with their tea when I went downstairs the next morning. I was about to approach them when I overheard something that compelled me to stop and eavesdrop.

“Is the letter with those photos?” Dad’s hushed voice carried clearly in the quiet home.

“Yes,” came Mom’s reply, accompanied by a sigh. “I didn’t know where else to store it. I thought I’d tell him when my end was near.”

“I will help you pick out some photos for him. That will pacify him for the moment. There’s no reason to worry.”

“I told you we should have destroyed it.” Mom’s voice was a tad louder.

“We can’t, my love,” Dad said in his usual calm manner. “It’s his heritage. He has a right to know. It’s our fault we haven’t told him yet.”

“Not our, Arvind. It was my decision. I won’t let you take the blame for it. I won’t let anyone else blame you either.”

“No one blames you, my dear. I don’t blame you.” I imagined Dad holding Mom’s hand as I stood shielded by the wall.

“I’m still terrified. I know it’s been years, and he’s a grown man, but I am still afraid of losing his love. It will kill me for sure.”

“Don’t say such things,” Dad pleaded. “We have raised him well. He is kind and sensible. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Against the clink of the teacups, I stood deliberating if I should let them in on the knowledge that I had heard everything and demand that they come clean. Or probe more into this mysterious letter they mentioned? My best guess was that they had done something in the past. Something so egregious, they couldn’t tell me. That’s why they wrote it in a letter and tucked it away for posterity. They’d often said they were wild in their youth. Maybe they’d broken the law in some way. Had they harmed someone? Or murdered? I refused to believe that, but then, I hadn’t expected this conversation either.

If they knew I’d overheard, they might hide the letter again—or worse—destroy it. I decided to sneak back in at a later time when they weren’t home and find the letter.

That morning over breakfast, I played the loving, unsuspecting son and said to Mom, “It occurred to me that instead of sending the pictures to Sona, it would be more fun to take them with me when I visit her next. So I don’t need them urgently. I’ll come back another time.”

A visible wave of relief washed over her face.

“Alright.” She nodded. “How is Sona? Have you two made any decisions yet?”

Dad’s body seemed to relax at this change in our conversation. I looked at them and realized there was nothing these two could do that would make me love them less. Even if they had murdered someone in cold blood, my love for them wouldn’t diminish in the least. I smiled at them and leaned back in my chair. “There is something.”

Their smiles widened when they saw the grin on my face.

Mom put her hand over mine. “Looks like good news. Tell us quickly.”

“When I was there last weekend, I asked Sona to marry me,” I said. “I wasn’t planning on it, but the moment felt right.”

“Ah, that’s great news!” Dad said.

Mom didn’t speak. She put her hand over her chest and tried to check her tears of joy. “Did she agree?”

“It’s a contingent yes.”

“Contingent on what?”

I pulled a sip of my coffee. “She wants me to meet her parents.”

“Do you want us to talk to them?” Mom asked. “We can plan a formal proposal to the family if they want that sort of thing.”

“No, Mom. She wants her parents to fall in love with me without pressure from her. She wants to introduce me as a potential partner, not present me as her fiancé.”

Mom nodded. “I’m sure they will love you,” she said with a smile that exuded motherly pride.

“Of course, you’d say that, Mom. I’m your son, your blind spot.” I didn’t miss the shifty glance they exchanged before smiling at me. “So what’s up this week?” I asked. “Do you need anything from me? Any doctor’s appointments I need to know about? I’m looking at you, Dad.”

He laughed. “No, nothing this week. And I am quite capable of making it to my appointments. I might be retired, but I’m still functional.”

I smiled. “And a big baby.”

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