She nodded at her slowly. “Yeah. I’m good. My business is really busy and I enrolled in some art classes.”
Asha stopped in the doorway of the den Mia was leading her toward, hearing voices that sounded familiar. “You have company?” she asked Mia, concerned that she’d interrupted a visit from someone else.
She could hear Max’s furious voice, but couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying.
“Asha…your foster parents are here,” Mia answered, sounding tense and frustrated.
That was why the tone of the voices had sounded familiar. “W-why?” she stammered. “Why would they come here?”
“They’re looking for you,” Mia answered bluntly. “Somehow they got the news in California that you’re a sibling to Max and Maddie. They wanted to talk to you. I think Max is ripping them a new asshole right now.”
Asha’s world tilted and rocked for just a moment before becoming upright again. For just a few moments, she was an adolescent again, terrified of displeasing her foster parents, and losing the only home she had. “Is my ex-husband with them?”
“No. If he was, he wouldn’t still be able to speak. Max would have killed him by now,” Mia said fiercely. “Max let your foster parents in just so he could tell them what he thought about the way they fostered you. They’ll be shown out shortly.”
Mia wrapped her arms around her midsection, rocking a little in distress. “I don’t know what they want from me,” she answered, her voice radiating with vulnerability.
“Nothing good,” Mia replied, waving Asha into the den.
Asha knew this was a pivotal moment for her, a short period of time where she could take the easy way out by avoiding her foster parents, or confront her demons. She could run and hide…or deal with them herself. She wasn’t a child anymore…she was an adult. Really, it wasn’t something that Max should have to contend with and he didn’t need to.
“I’ll talk to them,” she told Mia, looking into her sister-in-law’s concerned face with a determined expression. “I don’t need to be afraid of them anymore and I don’t need to be obedient. I want them out of your house and gone, and I don’t want them to bother you and Max again.”
She turned on her heel and followed the voices, which wasn’t difficult since Max was bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Are you fucking kidding me? It wasn’t Asha who complained; it was me. Neither one of you is fit to be a foster parent and you’ll never foster another child.”
Asha stopped in the entryway to the living room, stunned. Max had filed a complaint? On her behalf?
Mia stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, whispering next to her ear. “It wasn’t just you, Asha. After you left, they took in another foster child of around ten years old. They’re getting ready to marry her off to another one of their relatives in India—for a very hefty price. And they just applied for another one. Another female. Max blocked their application with a complaint. This might get unpleasant.”
“They did it again?” Asha asked incredulously, anger rising up from her belly, anger for the girl who was about to marry a man she most probably didn’t want to wed. “We have to stop the marriage unless she wants it.”
“Max already did. She didn’t want it, but was in the same circumstances as you were at the time. She wants to go to college to be a teacher. Max already has her at the school and settled into her dorm. We’re helping her. Don’t worry. And Max will make certain they never get another foster child again.”
Tears of anger and relief flooded Asha’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered fiercely. “You have no idea how much this will change her life.” Although the teenager had probably grown up mired in the same guilt and shame as Asha, the course of her life had changed because of Mia and Max.
Mia squeezed her hand and Asha turned to face her foster parents, who were still arguing with Max. Letting go of Mia’s hand, she lifted her chin and walked into the room. All conversation stopped as she approached her foster parents, every eye on her.
“You will leave my brother’s house and never come near any of my family again,” Asha told her foster parents abruptly, her anger still boiling inside her.
Her foster mother stepped forward, gold bangles clinking as she moved. She looked very much the same, but different to Asha now that she was seeing her through the eyes of an adult. Her eyes moved over the finest silk sari that her foster mother was wearing, and the gold and gems that adorned her body. Why had she ever believed that her foster parents were suffering financially? Her foster mother was wearing enough to gold to live off for life.