The Candid Life of Meena Dave(68)

“You don’t get it.” Meena winced at the high pitch in her voice. “I need to know if whichever auntie it is knows. And if she knows I know.”

“I’m lost.”

“If I hand them all of it on a platter, they could lie. Pretend they didn’t know, even if they did.”

Sam sighed and sat down. “So what do you want to do?”

Meena tapped her chin. “Drop hints. Different ones to each auntie. See what sort of reactions I get.”

“Are you sure you want to take the long way around?”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m not sure of anything. For once, I want someone to recognize me. Tell me the truth. All of it.”

He nodded and stood. “I’ll help with whatever you need.”

She took his hands. His eyes looked tired. There was a stain on the front of his T-shirt, maybe from coffee. She reached up and touched his face. “I’m not going to put you in the middle of this.”

He put his hand over hers. “Too late.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

Reluctant to let go, she stepped back and headed to the door. Before leaving she turned around and faced him. “Sam, I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Me too.”

She took another breath. “I think there could be something more here, and maybe, if you’re up for it, we should figure it out. If not, I totally understand. I don’t have a lot of experience in this. The last time I let myself genuinely like someone, it was Jason Lee in tenth grade.” She paused as a look of surprise crossed his face. She’d blurted it out, and he said nothing. “It’s OK if you aren’t interested. You don’t have to like me back.” Oh God, she was in high school again. “What I mean is, I would like us to go on a date, dinner, but this time a date. But if you don’t, just let me know, I can take rejection.”

Meena forced herself to stop talking. She wanted to run out of the apartment and leave the house, go for a long walk, maybe jump into the frigid Charles River to escape. “I’ll go,” she said.

“Wait,” Sam said. “That was a lot of words, my brain is still catching up.”

She put her hands on her hips. “How long is it going to take?”

He held up a finger. “You want to go out on a date?”

She nodded.

“First, yes. I’m saying yes so that we’re clear,” he said.

“And second?”

“Why now?”

Because I like the person that you are. “It’s almost Valentine’s Day. Maybe I’m giving in to societal pressure. Or maybe I just want to get out of the apartment and do something that’s not by myself. And you’re . . .”

“Convenient?”

“No,” Meena said. “You’re the opposite of that. If I wanted easy, I could go to a bar and find a stranger to pass the time with.”

“I see.”

“No pressure,” Meena said. “I’m not going to throw myself at you again. And I’m not saying that to make you feel bad. You’re perfectly within your rights to choose who you kiss.”

“Wait,” Sam said. “We’re kissing now?”

She put her face in her hands. Then she heard a little laugh. He stepped closer and pulled her hands away. “I’m teasing.”

Meena saw it in his eyes. They were clear, less tired, his lips in a grin.

“My turn.” He kept her hands in his. “First, I have wanted to kiss you since, well, our first dinner that wasn’t a date. I mean have you met you? You’re smart, fiercely independent, talented, and I know you’ve looked in a mirror enough to know you’re beautiful in an obvious way.”

She pulled her hands out of his. “Obvious?”

“Traditional,” Sam said. “Conventional. You’re inarguably pretty. Second, I stopped because I didn’t know what you wanted. It was a push-away, pull-back-in situation. I’m not good at that.”

“You’re a nice man.”

He dropped her hands and moved away. “No, I’m not. I let people think that about me. There’s a difference.”

Meena noticed the slight shift as his shoulders tensed. “From where I stand, you’re a good guy.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “You know very little about me.”

Stunned, Meena wrapped her arms around herself. He was right, she had résumé bullets and a biography filled in by the aunties and Neha’s notes, an occasional anecdote about his friendship with Neha. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Everything has really been about me when it comes to us.”

He’d gotten her out of her apartment, introduced her to his friends, given her advice, been her sounding board. She’d taken what he’d offered but hadn’t reciprocated. She couldn’t think of a single time she’d centered the conversation around Sam.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said.

“Doesn’t make it not true.”

He nodded. “It’s fine. You were the one with the existential crisis.”

She laughed. It burst out of her, and it felt good, like a release. “When you put it like that.”

Sam took her hand again. “I’m not diminishing what you’re going through.”