Page 44 of Reasons We Break

When he arrives, Kat’s not there. Her chair is swiveled toward the door, as if she got up in a hurry. Rajan, still restless, wanders to the rickety cabinet near the wall. He flips through random books. Opens and closes the blinds. Doodles on the whiteboard. Tries locked drawers out of boredom.

Several minutes pass before he wonders if he got his appointment time wrong. He should’ve checked with the secretary, but there was a long line. Technically, he could also ask the office social worker, but then she’s gonna ask him about that gang violence module and he’ll have to pretend he remembers anything from it. Line it is.

He turns for the door, and his shoe crunches over something on the industrial carpet. A sparkle catches his eye—it’s a fine sprinkling of glass. And next to it, near the wall...a photo frame, facedown.

Careful of the glass, he turns it over. It’s the photo of Kat and the boy that’s normally on her desk. The glass of the frame is shattered. He puts it back on the desk and leaves the room.

He’s halfway down the hall when the washroom door swings open and he collides with someone. “Shit, are you—” He stops when he realizes it’s Kat. Kat, wiping her face with a paper towel.

She jolts upon seeing him. He does, too, because her eyes are red. She’s either found an interesting new hobby in the washroom or she’s been...crying?

Kat recovers so fast he thinks he imagined it. “Hello, Rajan!” The paper towel disappears into her pocket. She bustles past him. “Let’s talk in my office! I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She sits at her desk, gesturing to her reddened eyes and nose. “My allergies always act up in May. Have a seat.”

Rajan sinks into his chair. Kat glances to the photo frame, back on the desk. She puts it in her drawer. When she catches him looking, she explains with a smile. “I don’t want more glass to fall out. The photo fell during my last appointment, and the cleaners won’t be in until evening.”

“It broke on carpet?” This sounds like bullshit. “How’d it get toyourside of the desk?”

Kat retrieves his file instead of answering. Rajan glances at the door. Wasn’t her last appointment with Snake Tattoo?

He tries for a moment to imagine he’s Snake Tattoo, sitting in this very chair. Getting irritated with Kat’s never-ending questions, like Rajan. But unlike Rajan, acting on it. Grabbing whatever’s in his reach and throwing it.

But not rightather. To intimidate her, he’d throw it—there. There’s a dent in the drywall right beside Kat’s head. And it’s definitely new.

“How’s Hillway been?” Kat jars him from his thoughts. “Last time, you said you didn’t like your mentor. Is that still true?”

“I never said that.” He feels like an asshole now, knowing what Simran was actually going through. God, he hopes she’s okay. He would ask her, but he’s trying to keep his distance. For her sake.

At the thought, he reaches into his pocket for a toothpick. And winces at the twinge in his shoulder.

Kat notices. “Your work takes too much advantage of you, Rajan.”

She sounds a lot like she suspects he’s working overtime. “Youguys got me this job.”

“We could consider other options.” When he shakes his head, she shrugs. “Let me know if you change your mind. How’re things at home?”

By this point, he’s gotten used to her swerves. “Well, the tree in our yard fell down yesterday. Missed the roof by inches. So I guess it could be worse.”

Kat smiles, clearly aware he misinterpreted her question on purpose. But she plays along. “Goodness, that’s lucky. Have you called anyone to remove it yet?”

“No. Nobody’s going to care, anyway. Whole neighbourhood is a shithole.”

She chuckles. “You and your family used to live in a very nice neighbourhood, if I read the reports right. Why’d you move? Too many memories of your mother?”

Rajan scowls. “It had nothing to do with Mom dying. My parents couldn’t afford that house in the first place—they had to declare bankruptcy.”

“That’s unfortunate. Did they think they could afford the house before?”

“No.”

Kat’s smile grows confused. Rajan chews his toothpick another moment before putting her out of her misery. “Some Punjabi people like to flex to each other. Who’s got the biggest house, the most expensive cars, the nicest TV. You do it so you can say your kids will have a good time growing up. You do it even if you don’t have the money. That’s why my parents worked so much. They had to.”

“Your mom, too? I thought she was sick.”

“She got sick after. And the house...was her idea.” His mom was stretching herself too thin by the time he was in grade seven. Almost never home, and when she was, she was in bed. It took almost a year for the doctors to figure out that she wasn’t just tired. Her own immune system was trying to off her. “But even then, she kept trying to work, because the mortgage was nuts. She got sicker and the stress of everything...I think it made it worse. And definitely,Imade it worse.” His throat closes and he stops abruptly.

Kat steeples her fingers. “So really, then, maybe your predicament was partly your mother’s fault.”

Wait, what? Rajan blinks. “Where’d you pullthatfrom?”