The Candid Life of Meena Dave(59)

It felt wrong and right. To help her anxiety, she checked the balance in her savings account. She would be OK. She lived frugally; she could take a little more time off to sort all this out once and for all. Then she booked flights.

She looked over at the elephant and pulled out the note. Neha had called the man who’d impregnated the young girl her family. She hadn’t had siblings, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t had other male relatives, a distant cousin perhaps. It was a lead. Meena could track him down. Not for a reunion or even an acknowledgment of who they were to each other, but a confirmation. She wouldn’t assume this time. She would verify.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


The apartment was quiet, as was the building. Meena let herself in, no key necessary, and pulled off her hat and scarf. It was cold, and she checked the thermostat, which had been adjusted from seventy to sixty-five. Still in her coat, she wandered around the living room, through the bedroom and the kitchen, then sat on the familiar yellow sofa.

It was different now. This was hers. Until now she’d seen this as Neha’s apartment. She’d been reluctant to accept it, admit that she wanted to keep it. Even though her chest was tight at the thought of having a home, she wanted to make one for herself. Here, in a building with history, community, and . . . she let out a nervous breath as she thought of Sam. Maybe more. First things first, she turned the knobs on the radiators to warm the place up.

She could take the time to figure out what to do with all the stuff. She didn’t have a lot of money to spend, but she wanted to make this place hers, not Neha’s. She’d even gotten some links from Zoe to sites on decorating with a small budget. Crowded as this place was, it was a blank canvas. She had no idea what she liked and didn’t like when it came to having a home of her own. Color? Not this much. Minimalism? Probably. Art? Definitely not the naked man made of bottle caps that currently stared at her from one wall. She would keep some of Neha’s things, practical things, like the blue wingback chairs by the fireplace.

It had taken two weeks to get here from Seoul. Meena had finished the Rolling Stone story, then spent a couple of days in London, then spent a few days in New York, finally catching up with editors she’d rescheduled with in the past. It was important that they know she was back in the US for assignments. She would still go anywhere, but for a little while, it would be nice to cover Sturgis or the hot-air balloon festival in New Mexico if the opportunity came her way.

It was exhilarating, the idea of doing things she’d never done. She’d made notes in her planner about switching over the utilities currently being paid for by the estate once the year was up. There was a lot to do, from her driver’s license to tax things. It was daunting, but she was without the undercurrent of exhaustion she’d been carrying. She smiled to herself. It felt good. She’d made a decision, a choice.

Meena was startled when the door opened. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t locked it behind her when she’d come in. Then she laughed as Wally ran in and jumped on her, his front paws on her thigh. He nudged her for more.

“Hi, buddy.” Meena scratched behind his ears. “Do you remember me? I missed you so much.” Wally jumped again. “You got so big. You want up?” She pulled him into her lap, and he pawed at her thighs and chest, his face all over her.

“Wally, down.”

The pup looked up, and Meena braced against Sam’s stern voice.

“Wally, down,” Sam repeated.

The dog nudged his face into Meena’s armpit. She stood and put him down. “I see he’s still having issues with authority.”

He gave Wally an exasperated look. “He’s stubborn.”

“A dog with his own mind.”

“He’s made some enemies. Sabina hasn’t forgiven him for ripping up her slipper, and Uma still glares at him because he chewed up her laptop charger.”

Meena went down on her knees and cuddled Wally. “Oh no, Wally.” Then she whispered in the puppy’s ear, “Good job on the slipper.”

“Fair warning,” Sam said. “Don’t take your eyes off of him.”

Meena stood, and Wally went over to sniff her backpack. She followed him and pulled out a little gift she’d gotten on impulse. “Smart puppy.” She handed him a big bone. “Here, is this what you smelled?”

The dog took it out of her hand and moved to a sunny corner by the window and gnawed.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Meena said.

Sam shook his head. “It’ll occupy him for an hour, tire him out. I’m thankful.”

She tugged off her coat. She didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t texted her back. Two weeks was a long time not to respond. It was fine. She hadn’t been in touch for weeks before that. She hadn’t mentioned her trip. “I should have told you I was leaving.”

He shrugged and put his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants. “You left a note.”

“I should have texted. Earlier.”

“You have your own life.”

It used to be that way. Now she had people she wanted to stay in touch with, wanted them to miss her. “I’m staying.”

“OK.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“I’m not.” Sam shook his head. “You’ve been clear that your life is fairly transient.”