The Candid Life of Meena Dave(36)

“My blood pressure is fine,” Meena said.

They watched Wally start battles with stationary objects, then become distracted by other things. In this moment, with Sam next to her, Wally zooming around them, Meena realized she wasn’t lonely.

“About the other night . . . ,” Sam began.

“It’s fine.” Meena had already relived her attempt to kiss him and his rejection. She didn’t want to dissect it with him. It had been an impulse. “Too much beer and the homey scent of potpourri.”

He glanced at her. “Cinnamon does it for you, huh?”

She laughed. “Who knew?”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to kiss you,” Sam said. “I want to make that clear.”

“It’s fine.” She reached over and put her hand on top of his. “Forgotten. No hard feelings.”

He glanced down and flipped his hand to hold hers.

She tugged her hand out of his. “It’s better to not complicate things. It’s been nice to hang out in Boston, but soon . . .”

Sam finished her sentence. “You go back to your life.”

“Exactly.” Though she wasn’t sure what that meant anymore.

“The thing about complications,” Sam said. “Avoiding them doesn’t always work.”

“I don’t know.” Meena wiggled the fingers of her casted arm. “I’ve kept it simple so far.”

He nodded. “No ties. No knots.”

It was a gut punch. So succinct and so true. “It’s getting cold.” She stood and, on her way back to her apartment, gave Wally a few scratches. The dog looked at her with adoration. He accepted her love. Without thinking, she gave the pup a kiss on the top of his head.

Once inside, she looked out into the garden. She’d gotten scared. On that bench, next to Sam, she’d started to want.





CHAPTER TWENTY


As Meena climbed the stairs, she could hear the lilting sound of a clarinet coming from the top floor. She wore her nicest and only dress, a simple black sheath, and her serviceable ankle boots. She clutched the bottle of white wine in her hand. Nerves fluttered in her belly. She didn’t know why. She’d been to dinner parties before, and she knew at least a few of the guests and liked some of them. Tanvi and Sam would be there to ward off any awkwardness.

It wasn’t as if she were intimidated by Sabina. Meena had rafted through Class IV rapids. This one stern woman was nothing compared to that. But it was a holiday event, a part of a culture that was Meena’s by birth, yet she didn’t know the rules, the rituals, and it wasn’t as if the internet could teach her the nuances. In her work Meena could often stay detached; here she was going to mingle, be social. That shift was uncomfortable.

The door to Sabina’s apartment was bright white, a garland of red roses hanging from the top of the frame. Meena heard the din of conversation on the other side. She adjusted the strap of her small cross-body purse. She hesitated before knocking. It would be OK. She was here to learn a little bit about this holiday, about what it meant to Indians, and get to know Neha better through the aunties. No big deal.

It wasn’t that Meena didn’t know she was a woman of color. The world made sure it was at the forefront of her mind. She’d been called everything from exotic to dirty. What she didn’t have was a community she could turn to, one that was tied to her ethnicity.

A part of her wanted to dive in, embrace this chance to learn more, maybe even become a part of this group. The aunties would love to teach her how to cook, make chai, and do all the other things they did together. But she hesitated. Did exploring this part of her make her disloyal to the traditions she’d been raised in, the ones her parents had given her? Neha had given Meena up. Not even to another Indian family. Had it been a conscious choice on Neha’s part to give Meena to a non-Indian couple? Was there a reason Neha hadn’t wanted to give Meena even that basic knowledge?

With three deep breaths, she centered herself and knocked with her uncased hand.

“Meena,” Sabina greeted her. “Welcome. I’m so glad you decided to join us.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” Meena slid off her shoes, as was custom. The huge living area was full of people. Her gaze found Sam and her nerves settled. It had been a while since she’d seen him not in his usual rugby shirt / sweatpants combo. Today he wore a soft blue sweater with dark jeans. He seemed different and yet familiar. She was glad for his presence as she scanned the room full of people. The aunties and their husbands were there. So were a few younger people—most likely their children.

“You made it.” Tanvi reached out and took both of Meena’s hands in hers and squeezed.

Meena said her hellos and handed Sabina the pinot grigio she’d bought from the wine shop a few blocks away. People were scattered around, seated on formal furniture. Meena’s socked feet sank into the thick rug, as white as fresh snow. Sabina’s home spanned the width of the building, and the rooms were grand in their scale and decor. The bottom halves of the walls were paneled in rich, warm walnut-colored wood, and a creamy white paint coated the tops up to the crown molding. Meena would be hard pressed to find a scratch or a scuff anywhere. The seating was deep and tufted, in warm tones. The rich, dark wood tables sported gold hardware. To one side she could see a formal dining table, the chairs in creams and yellows complementing the tabletop. A crystal teardrop chandelier gave the room a sense of austerity.