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go.” Gia lowers the window. The wind blows her hair and muffles her mother’s voice. “Besides, I want to stay close to my friends.”
    “Your friends?”
    Gia is very social. From a young age she was comfortable with people in a way that Marin still hasn’t mastered. She would smile and start up conversations without any self-consciousness. For Marin, whose own social interactions are stilted and short, it was a revelation to have a daughter so rehearsed in social etiquette.
    “What friends would want you to sacrifice your future for the sake of themselves?”
    Recently, many of Gia’s friends had begun to date. When Gia broached the idea with Marin, her immediate reaction was no. It would take away time from her studies. Though Gia kept asking, insisting she should be allowed, Marin refused to change her mind. Marin never dated as a teenager. Their culture demanded a girl be 100 percent pure before marriage. Even one date could taint her reputation and make her an unacceptable candidate for marriage. It was not the cultural concern that made Marin say no; it was this type of situation. Anyone having undue influence over Gia’s life.
    “No one.” Gia answers quickly, without hesitation, and scoots lower into her seat. Searching for a song on her phone, she sticks in her earphones. “Never mind. Harvard or Yale are great. They are still my top choices.”

    Marin rubs lotion into her chapped hands. Years of typing have formed calluses that refuse to disappear. Her hair, in a tight braid, falls down her back; her silk nightgown reaches to her feet. Their live-in housekeeper retired to bed hours ago, only after meticulously cleaning up the kitchen. Marin had eaten her dinner at her desk, with hours of work that needed to be finished. The emotional day wore on her, and her body was demanding sleep. But the conversation with Gia continued to replay in her head, keeping any hope of rest at bay.
    “You were very tense today.” Raj exits the shower into their room, a large towel around his waist. His hair drips droplets of water onto their carpeted floor. Recent years have added pounds to his middle, but his arms and legs have retained their leanness from when they first married. Black hair mixed with silver covers his brown chest, but the hair atop his head has remained its original color. “About Gia.”
    “I’m fine.” She prefers not to discuss it. Their conversation in the car made it painfully obvious to Marin that she had failed to fullyexplain to her daughter the value of a good college education. She reviewed plans to rectify that immediately. A trip to tour the East Coast and the Ivy Leagues was the obvious first step. Gia would naturally get excited about the campuses and living across the country. Even though she still had a few years, it was time. Marin convinced herself that Gia’s indifference was nerves—fear of living away from home. With a game plan in mind, she felt calmer. “We should get to bed. We have an early morning tomorrow.”
    “Gia’s tennis tournament.” Raj removes his towel and sets it on the hook. Naked, he slips under the covers and watches Marin turn off the lights. “I can take her if you need to work.”
    A month has passed since the last time they made love. Raj was the usual initiator, though Marin rarely refused him. The night before her wedding she was taught that sex was a man’s right. No matter how successful a woman became, it was her duty to fulfill her husband’s needs. It was the only place in their relationship that Marin did not feel in complete control. No matter how often she tried to convince herself that the pleasure was both of theirs to have, she always felt empty and alone afterward.
    They had an easy pattern when they made love. Two positions, or more often just one. He finished first, quickly. If Marin needed a release she would guide his hand between her legs. Spooning behind her, he would rub until she found her satisfaction. Sometimes it was