The Candid Life of Meena Dave(66)

“Then she shoved it in every inch of empty space.”

He nodded.

They were getting back to their easiness. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

He gave her a half smile. “I heard a crash and a scream.”

“And like double-oh seven, you ran in here.”

He grinned. “You need to watch a Bond movie before you make a comparison.”

Maybe we could watch one together, she wanted to say. Instead she nodded to the note. “Seriously, you read it. You knew her; it might make more sense.”

He took the page and read it out loud.

“‘Friend as a noun has five definitions, as a transitive verb, two. If I were to apply one to designate my relationship with the women in this building, I would use “one who is not hostile.” The one I would apply to Sabina, Uma, and Tanvi, “one attached to another by affection or esteem.” They have the bond from being born within months of each other. Despite their differences, they care for each other. Tighter than sisters, they often say.

“‘Of course, I know that one of them has a secret. Shared only with me. Not by choice but by circumstance. Such a secret can destroy the bond they believe is impenetrable.

“‘I do wish to be there for the fallout when all is revealed. I wonder if you resemble her. I hope for your sake you do not take after my cousin. He was quite unattractive in his personality.’”

Meena moved over to the couch, her mouth agape—with saying and not saying things. She closed her eyes and asked Sam to read the note again, then read it herself.

“I don’t understand,” Sam said.

She limped to her jacket, not caring about the blood dripping from the cut on her heel, and grabbed the wooden elephant. She’d kept it in the jacket pocket as a talisman of sorts. She took it out and unsnapped the latch as she’d done a dozen times since discovering it and took out the note.

She didn’t watch him as he read it, instead focusing on the words in the new note. Friend. Secret. Resemble. Meena was so frustrated she wanted to throw the elephant in her hand, smash it against a wall, watch it shatter in fragments near the swept-up shards of the broken lamp. The rising anger felt right. She rarely lost control of her emotions, rarely allowed herself to get to the point of rage. Right now there was nothing but anger in her bones.

Her heel burned from the cut, and she sat down on the couch.

“Her cousin?” Sam said.

“Turns out I am related to Neha,” Meena said. “Likely through my biological father.”

He sat next to her.

“And now this about my birth mother . . .” She’d already made a wrong assumption once. She didn’t want to chance it. “How would you interpret it?” She handed the new note back to him.

“Let’s see.” Sam frowned. “She talks about how close the aunties are and that one has a secret.”

“‘Circumstance,’” Meena jumped in. “That could be code for pregnancy?”

Sam looked around. “Do you have a dictionary?”

Meena laughed. “More like fifty or so.” She took an older edition of Merriam-Webster from the bookshelf and handed it to Sam.

“OK, the definition is ‘condition.’” Sam flipped through it.

“And a woman in a certain condition often refers to pregnancy,” Meena said.

“Then she adds, ‘I wonder if you resemble her.’ She hopes you resemble her.” Sam looked up at her. “If these notes are for you, and it’s very likely that they are—and that there’s a secret that one of them has the other two don’t know, and then a direct mention of the man being unattractive.”

“Just say it, Sam.” Meena leaned back. Closed her eyes and let the wave of frustration, resentment, anger, irritation, grief, pain, and heartache crash through her. “Or better yet, rip it up. Destroy it.”

“I think she’s saying that one of them could be your biological mother, and her cousin was the one who got her pregnant.”

Meena didn’t want to cry. She’d made peace. Well, apart from wanting proof that she belonged here, rightfully. That was all that mattered. She didn’t want to feel things. Didn’t want to know that there were more secrets. That she’d been growing close to these women, and one of them could be her . . . she stopped her runaway mind. “There’s a fat envelope in the desk drawer with all of the notes I’ve found. Take them all, light them on fire.”

He took her hand. She pulled out of his grasp. Her skin hot, her heart fragile, she did not want his kindness. Her mind screamed for her to retreat. To run away. “One of them knows. Right? She has to know. She knows why Neha would have left me this apartment.” And yet they’d let Meena believe she was a stranger, a random person who had come into their lives.

Sam put his hand over hers. This time she let his touch calm her. She wasn’t going to run. She wasn’t going to push away someone who was starting to matter.

Meena bit the inside of her cheek hard. “I’ve eaten with her, gotten drunk, I’ve . . . she knows . . .”

He put his arm around her. Squeezed her against him. She kept her hand in his and closed her eyes. She was drowning in betrayal as all her feelings swam around her. Every cell in her body wanted to run. She could be packed and out of there in thirty minutes.