The Candid Life of Meena Dave(45)

“How long have you been doing this?” Meena asked.

“It’s one of our more recent traditions.” Uma licked a dollop of whipped cream off the candy cane. “The summer of 2013. After the marathon bombing, there was an effort to support the Back Bay businesses, and we wanted to do our part. As we spent the day from brunch to bar to dinner, we came up with this idea.”

“All week we prepare for Thanksgiving.” Sabina gesticulated. “Friday after is our day while the husbands clean.”

“Did Neha ever join?” Meena asked.

Tanvi shook her head. “We used to invite her, but she always said no. After a while we stopped asking.”

“Neha preferred to spend time with her books,” Uma said. “She always had a few open she would switch between and would jot down notes, dog-ear pages.”

“It was just as well.” Sabina sighed. “Neha wasn’t a joiner. She thought getting together, doing things with each other, was a waste of time.”

Meena kept quiet and sipped her drink. Part of her wanted to tell them that maybe they could have tried harder. Ask them if they’d noticed whether Neha wanted to be alone or was lonely. “I get the feeling that she spent a lot of time by herself.”

“That’s what she wanted,” Tanvi said.

“Sometimes people say that because that’s all they have.” Meena stared at the empty mugs in front of her. The hot chocolate sat warm in her belly, and she didn’t mind the aftertaste of vodka anymore. “Wow. These drinks are potent.”

“How are things between you and Sam?” Tanvi dipped a finger into her empty mug, scraped off the remaining whipped cream, and licked it.

Meena shook her head. “We’re friends. I like his dog.”

“And his handsome face,” Tanvi said.

“It’s not a bad match,” Uma added.

Meena finished the last of her drink. “Where to next?”

“To the Oak Long Bar.” Uma raised her arm and pumped her fist.

Tanvi linked arms with Meena as they walked down Dartmouth Street and crossed Boylston. The cool air cleared Meena’s head. She could see the wreaths being placed on the beautiful old building that housed the public library. Groups of tourists posed for photos on the steps next to the two sculptures—both of women, one holding a globe and the other a paintbrush and palette. Carved into the stone facade were the words FREE TO ALL.

She’d been inside a long time ago, on a sixth-grade class trip to Boston for the day. Sadly, she couldn’t remember any of the building’s history. Sam would know. If he were here, he’d narrate random facts in his deep voice that caused her stomach to flip over. Whoa. She caught herself. Where did that come from?

A frigid gust whipped around Meena as they approached the entrance to the Oak Long Bar.

Inside, the chandeliers, high ceilings, and large leather armchairs were all designed to make the wealthy feel comfortable. The hostess led them to their table, and Meena sank into a chair that belonged in a living room instead of a restaurant.

“There is an extra-cold, extra-dirty martini with my name on it.” Uma sat across from her. “If you’re looking for recommendations.”

“Or she could look at the cocktail menu,” Tanvi said. “I prefer to be more adventurous than order the same drink every time.”

The waiter took their orders, and Meena listened to their stories of past vacations. They talked over each other, teased each other, and laughed. A lot. Three cocktails in, Meena had learned a few things about herself. One, the Autumn Star was her least favorite drink. She didn’t mind the apple brandy, but vermouth was disgusting. Two, gin, which she didn’t often drink, was her liquor of choice. Three, she preferred the Bee’s Knees over the gimlet.

“OK, enough of our stories.” Uma sipped her third or possibly fifth martini. “Your turn, Meena. Tell us something about you.”

Her brain was foggy as she tried to remember something interesting. “I have been to base camp of six of the Seven Summits.”

“That’s boring.” Tanvi frowned. “Give us something juicy. Like a torrid affair, a horrible heartbreak.”

Meena toyed with the lime on the rim of her glass.

“Forget heartbreaks,” Uma said. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

Meena snapped her eyes to Uma. “I don’t think so.”

The aunties burst into laughter.

“If you do, we’ll help you bury the body,” Uma offered.

She wanted to believe them. She wanted to belong among them, be a part of the building. She could admit that only because alcohol flowed through her bloodstream and jostled her brain into wishing for things. She looked at Sabina, who stayed quiet at the idea of helping Meena in any way. A knot formed in her throat.

There was Zoe, of course. Zoe would be there for her and always had been. It was Meena who kept the friendship at a remove. The truth was that she hadn’t been part of a friend group since high school. She and her best friend, Holly, had been inseparable from kindergarten. But Meena had shut her out after everything happened. Hadn’t stayed in touch after the funeral. Holly had said her parents would come get Meena so Meena could spend weekends at her house, but Meena hadn’t called. She didn’t want to go back to that town, see others there living their lives when hers was gone.