The Candid Life of Meena Dave(50)

“Meena?”

Sam. “In the kitchen.”

“Uh, what happened? Did you hurt yourself?”

She squeezed the piece of paper in her hand. “I’m trying to bake.”

“And is sitting on the floor with flour on your pants part of your process?”

“Ha ha.” Meena stood and wiped off her black yoga pants.

“I thought you mentioned that you were using the laundry,” Sam said.

“You’re on a bad-joke roll today.”

“I’m in a good mood,” Sam said. “I just finished a grueling project. Forty-eight straight hours. Then ten hours of sleep. I was heading out to grab dinner and thought you could join me.”

So that was why she hadn’t seen him since Saturday. She’d worried that he might have been upset about her revelations. Or that Neha had kept this secret from him. She’d seen him with Wally here and there on short walks but hadn’t had the nerve to pop her head out or wave to him.

“Congratulations,” Meena said.

“There’s a Thai place nearby, it’s not bad.”

“That doesn’t sound like a solid recommendation.”

“I haven’t been to Thailand, and you probably have, so it’s fine for me, but maybe not up to your standards, so not bad.”

“I could eat. Give me a few minutes to clean up,” Meena said. “Put my face on.”

“When did you take it off?”

Meena tilted her head. “Did you get like a bad-joke-a-day calendar or something?”

He laughed. “I have dozens more. Just you wait.”

“I guess I’ll suffer through it for a good plate of som tum.”

Meena ducked into the bedroom to change into jeans and a black sweater and sat at the vanity to put on her makeup. It’s not a date, she needed to remind herself. It was dinner out. With a friend on a random Tuesday night in early December. There was no occasion or anything remotely special. Her head and heart were already jumbled; she didn’t need to add Sam into the mix. He was being a good friend. That meant more to her than anything else.

She added dark-red lipstick to finish off her look and unknotted her hair from its bun. It was nice to have the full use of both hands again, especially to manage her hair. She’d put it up wet, and it fell around her in waves. She fluffed it a little, smacked her lips to seal the color, and grabbed her cross-body purse.



“For the record,” Meena said, “I’ve never been to Thailand.”

Across the table Sam put his hand on his heart and feigned shock.

“There are a lot of places I haven’t traveled to,” Meena added. “I keep a list of places I want to see just to see them.”

“Like where?”

“Nebraska.” It was the first place that came to her mind.

Sam laughed. Then stopped. “You’re serious.”

“I just have this generalized image of cornfields and big blond farmers. And the only city that’s ever mentioned, Omaha. I want to see what it’s really like.”

“It’s not that hard,” Sam said. “I’m sure it’s easier to get there than Mongolia.”

Meena chewed on the tangy green papaya salad she’d ordered along with three other things. She was ravenous, and the food was better than not bad. “It’s not level of difficulty. I’ve gone everywhere for work. And I have yet to get an assignment there.”

Sam put a spring roll on her side dish before helping himself to one from the shared plate. “You never go anywhere for the sake of it?”

Meena shook her head. “I travel when I can get paid to do so.”

“And what do you do with the money?”

“Pay bills, replace equipment, buy expensive lipstick.”

“I am definitely a fan of the lipstick.”

His eyes twinkled. Or was it the way the muted light hit his face as he talked? Meena glanced away from his lips. He was flirting, and she didn’t want to encourage him, but she liked it. Too much. She changed the subject. “I found another note.”

“That’s why you were sitting on the kitchen floor.”

“She told me her ashes should be buried under the big tree in the backyard,” Meena said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I was the one who took care of it.”

Meena nodded. “I was baking a pie when I found it.”

“What kind?”

“Apple,” Meena said. “Tanvi brought me a dozen Granny Smiths from the farmers market on Sunday. That’s not the point. I want to know more about her, Sam. Not as a replacement for my parents, but to understand who I came from. Do I resemble her in any way? Am I like her? I know she liked to be alone, and so do I.”

“You’re not like Neha.”

“Really?” Meena frowned. “I can be cranky.”

“So can I,” Sam said. “All of us can be certain ways at different times.”

Meena didn’t know how to voice it, this desire to find a connection with someone she’d never known.

Sam leaned in over the table. Reached for her hand only to stop at touching the tips of her fingers. “I tried to tell you on Saturday but didn’t get the chance.”

Meena put down her fork.