The Candid Life of Meena Dave(19)

They walked past her mostly packed suitcase on their way to the living room. “Guess you’ll have to stay for a bit.”

She laughed as she curled up on the couch. “It was supposed to be a few hours that turned into a few days to now a few weeks.”

“It’s good,” Sam said. “You can explore. Get to know everyone in the building.”

That wasn’t on her to-do list. “The aunties knock on my door twice a day with lunch and dinner.” They would try to stay, have conversations, but Meena used the crutch of her aching wrist to thank them and get them to leave.

“It’s how it works in this building. We take care of each other.”

She heard the warmth in his voice.

“If Neha was too distracted by her work,” Sam continued, “Sabina would come and clean, mop the floors, dust, and all that. Uma kept her pantry stocked. Tanvi did the grocery shopping for her. Neha couldn’t be bothered with the details of life. Her brain needed to be full of things she didn’t know. She didn’t make space for things like laundry.”

“Funny.” Meena noticed the gleam in his dark-brown eyes.

“I try. Neha and I were friends. She wasn’t like my mom or the aunties. She was . . . well, at times erratic. She could go weeks without wanting to be around people. Then she’d have this burst of energy and she’d want to do everything.” Sam paced the living room, picking up a small toy dinosaur on a table only to put it back down. “Every May, Neha would pick a Saturday. All of us would meet in the hall at nine a.m. sharp. The aunties, their husbands, the kids. The whole building was required for the annual tradition of walking the Freedom Trail. She’d wear her brightest shirt and pepper us with facts at every landmark.”

Meena picked at the edge of her cast. She’d had something like that with her parents. Four Sundays in February. An annual arts festival in their town. The three of them would plan out which venues to go to each Sunday. They’d end the day with dinner in a restaurant, which was always a treat.

“Speaking of,” Sam said, and he sighed heavily. “I’m here on behalf of the aunties.”

“Uh-oh.”

Sam sat next to her on the sofa. “Don’t blame the messenger, though in this I’m hoping you’ll agree for selfish reasons.” He took a deep breath. “They would like you to stop locking your door.”

Meena frowned. “What? Why?”

“The only door that’s locked in this building is the main one. With security alarms and everything. During the day, except for when you absolutely need privacy, we all keep our doors unlocked. It’s a way to live like a family.”

As a person who always preferred the safety of bolts and door chains, Meena wasn’t on board.

“Also, our two units have the only access to the back garden,” Sam said. “The aunties come and go there, and since you moved in, they’ve been using my apartment. Tanvi gets distracted by Wally, Uma always wants to chat about my work. Sabina begins to clean up after me. So please. For my sake?”

She hated to disappoint him. “I can’t. I don’t live like that. Locks are safety, something I don’t take for granted. And I haven’t met their husbands. I’m not sure I like the idea of strangers walking in and out of my apartment.”

“I get that,” Sam said. “You work in unfamiliar places most of the time. You don’t have to worry about that here. This is a safe building. The only downside is lack of privacy. For what it’s worth, the aunties are way more formidable than their husbands. The uncles hang out on the roof garden—their domain, as they like to say. You don’t have to worry about them coming in here. At least think about it.”

She gave him a small nod. “Where is Wally?”

“In his crate,” Sam said. “He’s in a time-out because he prefers chewing on the leg of my dining table instead of the dozen or so toys all over the apartment.”

“Poor puppy.”

“Yeah, you get to say that because he’s not the one staring you dead in the face as he bites into the couch after you’ve said no three times,” Sam said. There was so much love in Sam’s voice as he talked about Wally’s antics.

“Would you like to have dinner?” he asked, suddenly.

The non sequitur jarred her. “I don’t do that.”

“Eat in the evenings?”

“I mean date.” He was attractive and nice, and she was tempted. She wanted to, not just for the sex, but to sit across a table from him, flirt, laugh. She wanted to hear more of his deep voice, stare at his sheepish smile. That was why she needed to keep her distance. She didn’t need or want more friends, and her life wasn’t suited to relationships.

“OK.” Sam leaned against the back of the sofa. “I only ask because you’ve been cooped up in this place for a while. It might be good to go out.”

Meena’s face burned at her mistake. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s fine,” Sam said. “I mean, you’re beautiful and I’m not repulsive. We’re both single.”

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“But I want to.” Sam gave her a quick wink. “In great depth. Tell me more about why you don’t date.”