The Candid Life of Meena Dave(14)

“I can take him inside,” Sam said.

“He’s fine.” Meena stroked Wally’s soft fur.

“Meena, you and Sam are in charge of hot cider and small paper cups,” Sabina stated. “I’m assigning you a shared task since you’re still new.”

“Make sure the cups are made with recycled paper,” Uma added.

Meena looked at Sam for an explanation.

“For Halloween.” Sam gestured toward the houses on either side of the building. “This street gets a lot of kid traffic from all over the city. The buildings up and down this block are known for decorations and lots of candy.”

“Every year we have a theme at the Engineer’s House,” Sabina said. “We spend the evening outside from six p.m. to eight p.m. handing out treats and hot drinks to kids and parents.”

The building and garden began to transform into something she could only describe with the term upscale terror, if there was such a thing. There were no down-to-earth cotton spiderwebs or ghosts made from sheets. The decorations looked expensive, made of glass, not plastic, with ribbons, not streamers. Sam strung orange and white fairy lights on the trees. Sabina wrapped purple ones around the railings. Tanvi added tall silk witch hats to the tops of the hedges that served as a fence to the garden on either side of the center path. Uma hung a violet-and-black wreath with small ceramic skulls on one of the doors.

Meena wished she had her camera with her. Instead she pulled out her phone and snapped pictures as they worked. There was a cadence to the way they moved together, chattering, checking in with each other about height and alignment. There were casual touches, a hand on Tanvi’s back as Uma passed by, a pat on Sam’s shoulder from Sabina. They smiled and laughed. Uma jumped out in front of Sam with a loud “Boo,” and Sam overdramatized his fear.

“If I knew I was going to be in a photo”—Tanvi preened—“I would have done my hair.”

“You look fabulous, and this looks fun. Is it OK if I take a few pictures?” Meena should have asked before taking photos, but the urge to document the scene had made her impulsive.

“I don’t mind,” Tanvi offered. “I’m happy to be a model. I have natural beauty.”

“When is your next salon appointment,” Uma said, “to dye your hair back to its original color?”

Tanvi stuck her tongue out at Uma, and Meena captured the image.

“I want to see.” Tanvi came over.

Meena held out the phone.

“These are incredible.” Tanvi slid her fingers to look at more. “There is so much in each one. It’s art.”

Her heart swelled with pride. “Thank you.”

“You could print these,” Tanvi said. “Publish them.”

These were casual, just fun shots of people going about their day. Maybe there was something here, about the three of them, this building.

“We looked you up,” Uma said. “Your Instagram is terrific. You’ve been all over the world. I want to bring some of your stories into one of my classes at BU, especially your work around climate change and ecotourism.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re a photographer?” Sam asked.

It made her happy to know that he hadn’t researched her. She liked their easiness, that they were getting to know each other naturally. She preferred discovery to information dumps.

“Photojournalist.” Uma poked him. “You should see her work, Sam.”

Meena knew what would happen next. Questions about where she’d been, what she’d done, where she was going. She took Wally off her lap, stood, then picked him back up again. “I think he needs a proper nap. I can take him inside with me.”

“Just go into my place, the door’s unlocked,” Sam instructed. “His crate is in the living room. Lock it so he stays put.”

“OK.” It felt weird to just walk into his place, but it would shift the attention away from her.

“Don’t forget about the cups,” Uma reminded Meena. “Sam will get the hot cider. Sabina has a silver urn for it.”

Meena nodded as she headed up the steps. “This all looks great.”

“It won’t be the same,” Tanvi said, “without Neha.”

Meena stopped. “Did she help you with the decorating?”

Tanvi laughed. “No. She liked to play a living ghost by sitting at her window, and when kids came up, she would slowly move her face closer and closer. With her white makeup, red lips, and a long black wig, she loved to scare all the kids.”

Tanvi’s eyes glistened, and her voice trembled as she recounted the memory. Everyone stopped midactivity. Sabina squeezed Tanvi’s hand to comfort her.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” It was a rote statement, one Meena heard each time someone found out about her own loss. Meena didn’t know what to say, but she felt for them. These women cared about Neha and missed her.

Tanvi composed herself. “Well, now you’re here. And you’ll get the cups.”

Meena nodded. “I’ll make sure they’re recycled.” Meena left them and dropped off a snoozing Wally in his crate before crossing the hall. She barely took in Sam’s living room; it felt too intrusive. Back in the apartment, Meena went to the windows. She could imagine a woman sitting in a chair playing dead.