Black Ice

vi

six | ishaan

Forks clinked. Glances were stolen. Silence sat in the air like fog.

Any attempts at having a conversation failed, and those that got past a few lines of dialogue quickly fizzled out.

We already covered condolences for Will, since my father never got to offer them to me. His sentiments went ignored. He didn't even like Will.

We went on to cover the beginning of Autumn's school year— her courses, her internship—  and, of course, her pregnancy.

My mother tossed a question toward me, hoping to lasso me into the conversation, "And what about you, Ishaan?"

"Ma'am?" I was too busy tuning them out to know what I was being asked.

"Are you excited for the baby?"

The mentioning of new life immediately forced a smile out of me, "Yeah. I'm... ecstatic, really."

My mother grinned. "You know, your father was ecstatic too, when I told him I was pregnant with you."

My smile faltered, eventually drying up into a scowl as I stabbed at my collard greens.

Autumn was the perfect team player, picking up the conversation that I had dropped. "Oh, really? That's sweet. Could you tell me more, Mr. Hughes?"

I didn't have to look at him to see his reluctance, but with a nudge from my mother, he answered.

"Yes, we were very excited to have a baby, and I was looking forward to having a son to carry on my name. We were more than ready— we had steady jobs and had just gotten an apartment to call home. We had everything planned out. What schools he'd go to, what kind of person we'd build him up to be, the lessons and skills we'd instill in him."

"Wow, you two had it all figured out," Autumn sounded nearly enthused.

"Yes, of course. We knew he would go on to do great things. That's why we named him Ishaan," my mother nodded with a soft smile flashed at me.

I weakly offered half of her expression before continuing to stuff my face with food.

"It means 'the sun.' We knew he'd shine in whatever he did," she added.

"What kind of baby was Ishaan?" Autumn asked.

I was nearly cringing as my mother answered.

I was over the idea of any conversation, and although I could listen to people sing my praises all day, this was the only instance where I preferred silence.

"For the most part, Ishaan was such a happy baby. He was so sweet."

"Ma, please," I mumbled.

"Oh, but when he was upset, everyone was gonna feel his wrath! Ain't that right?" the question was darted at my father, who chuckled fondly at the memories.

"Yeah. That boy had a strong set of lungs on him. I thought he was gonna be a musician, like a horn player with lungs like that."

"Well, you got the musician part right," Autumn smiled.

My father laughed as if what she said was really funny, like she'd used the wrong label for my profession.

I decided to speak up, setting down my fork and reaching for my drink, "Yeah, you did get the musician part right, Pops. Who would've thought I'd be able to get a place in Manhattan off the strength of these lungs? I mean, besides myself."

I faked a laugh and raised my glass. I took a sip, returning his glare in doing so.

"Who would've thought, huh? I'm going on tour and coming back to a complete family. Who would've thunk it?"