The Candid Life of Meena Dave(26)

“Why?”

“He’s estranged from his family,” Uma added. “So much for following tradition.”

Meena caught the glance Uma sent Sabina. They were speaking about things Meena had no context for, and she genuinely wanted to know.

“His family lives in Europe?”

“Munich,” Tanvi said. “The parents went to live with his younger brother’s family.”

“What about you?” Sabina asked. “You said your mother was a botanist. Is she retired?”

“She died.” These women were sharp and remembered everything. Meena needed to be more on guard, especially while she was feeling raw. “So did my father.” Meena didn’t wait for the question that had been coming. Headed it off to close off the topic.

Tanvi reached over and patted Meena’s hand. She had to close her eyes against another kind gesture.

“It was a long time ago,” Meena specified. “I was sixteen.”

“Oh no.” Tanvi patted her hand. “Did you stay with other family?”

Meena channeled the script she used on the rare occasion that this topic came up. “It was an accident. They were great parents. I had an amazing childhood, and I have a good life.”

“You’ve been on your own,” Sabina said.

“I’m good at it.”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t lonely,” Uma said.

“No matter.” Tanvi squeezed her hand. “Now you have us. And Sam.”

“Stop your matchmaking,” Uma chided. “This is a sensitive moment.”

Meena jumped at the change in topic. “He did ask me to have dinner.”

“When?” Tanvi asked. “Where? Oh, we need to go shopping. I’ve seen you in the same jeans and sweaters, and you have to add a little more color into your wardrobe.”

Like Neha.

“My clothes are fine.” Meena straightened the hem of her gray T-shirt with her free hand. “I can’t have too much, or it won’t fit in my suitcase. Besides, Sam and I don’t have firm plans.”

“It’s a start.” Uma grinned. “My husband asked me to dinner after our graduate-level economics class, and a year later we were married.”

Meena leaned away from the table. “Uh, that’s not . . .”

“Don’t scare her,” Sabina said.

“I’ll design the wedding invitations.” Tanvi patted the cast twice.

Horror came over Meena’s face. She finished off the chai in her mug and stood.

“Sit back down.” Tanvi reached for Meena. “I was joking with you.”

“I need a shower.” Meena walked away from them.

She needed to escape. Not just the room and the aunties, but this apartment, this city, the state of Massachusetts.

When she came out of the bathroom, the aunties had thankfully left. She locked the front door. She had to do, not think. Her chest would not loosen, she couldn’t take a deep enough breath. Panic, pain, and discomfort clogged her throat. She had parents, she reminded herself. She wouldn’t let Neha mean anything. She knew one more thing about herself than she had yesterday. That was all. In the meantime, she had emails to check. Meetings to schedule.

Then she saw it. A lifeline in the form of a message from Condé Nast Traveler. She was needed far away from here.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Meena was in Slippbarinn, Reykjavík’s first cocktail bar. The three blond men in her viewfinder laughed as they flexed and performed for the camera. She laughed at their antics. They were enjoying themselves. She took a few more photos of a bartender mixing drinks behind a sturdy bar made of wooden slats. The cocktail shelves behind him glowed red, green, and white. A few days on assignment and she’d managed well with the cast; instead of letting it frustrate her, she had adapted and adjusted to make it work.

The crowd was sparse, likely because it was just past 5:00 p.m. local time, even though the sky outside was deep black. This was her third establishment of the day for the quick story on bar culture in Reykjavík. She’d first gone to Pablo Discobar, an upscale place for expats and people who could afford expensive cocktails, then to Kaldi Bar, a beer experience. Slippbarinn was her last stop of the day. The exhaustion she’d thought she’d left behind weighed her down. The assignment felt like a means to an end. She didn’t feel her usual spark of interest, her joy at finding the right shot to convey the message.

Meena turned her camera back to the laughing faces of the three guys and snapped a few more shots of the brightly lit place. They’d already signed the photo releases so they could be part of the story. Iceland bars didn’t have a lot of rules, and on weekend nights they stayed open until 4:30 a.m. It was just the kind of assignment she needed right now: quick, not a lot of prep, and distracting. She’d been here for three days so far, and she’d barely thought about the Engineer’s House.

Or at least she’d tried not to think about it.

Got a quick assignment. Off to Iceland.

She’d left a note taped to her front door, just under the new cornucopia wreath that Sabina had swapped for the Halloween one. She’d left the apartment unlocked and taken a late-night flight. From Reykjavík she’d go straight to Manhattan and get those editor meetings back on the calendar. Then Christmas in London, then on to the next assignment.