The Candid Life of Meena Dave(84)

“I built my life in the shape it was meant to have. I have children, a husband.”

“Yes,” Meena whispered. “A legacy. You also have friends.”

“They don’t know.”

“You want me gone to protect you. Your life.”

“And you,” Sabina added. “I don’t want to face my past every time I see you. And you shouldn’t want to see me knowing I never want to be a mother to you.”

Meena turned her back, hated that she’d stood down first, but to face this rejection in real time threatened to sink her.

“It is a very fair offer.” Sabina waited a beat before she let herself out of the apartment. Meena refused to cry. Refused to curl up in a fetal position. She stayed upright and focused on the buds beginning to form on the trees in the back garden.



The envelope still in hand, Meena went through the double doors of her bedroom and down the steps to the yard. She needed air. It was cold but not brutal. The wind breezed through her thin sweatshirt. It didn’t matter. She let the cold dull the ache in her heart.

Bitterness rose in her throat. She’d never searched for her birth mother, never wanted to until the damn notes and the mystery of it all. Now it was all here, in cruel indifference.

“Hey.” Sam sat next to her on the bench. “What’s wrong?”

Her voice was neutral. “Two point seven million dollars. That’s the price for Sabina’s peace of mind.” She handed him the envelope.

“What?”

Meena rubbed her eyes, wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “At first, when I thought I wanted to know, I had hoped for Tanvi. She’s so sweet and warm. Then I thought it was better to not know because I didn’t want to face the truth that she wouldn’t want me. I settled on Uma. Both of us can do indifference in a very comfortable way. Instead I get Sabina. The perfect caretaker of the Engineer’s House, the person who always puts this place and herself first.”

Sam put his arm around her. She chewed the inside of her cheek as they sat in silence.

“The thing is there is no win here,” Meena said. “If I leave, I give up the first place I’ve wanted to make mine. I would be a mercenary, someone who ran off for two point seven million dollars. If I stay, she’ll think it’s out of spite. That I want to force myself on her day in and day out. Her biggest regret. Have you ever been someone’s mistake, Sam? It’s a really shitty thing to hear.”

“I can’t believe she told you that.”

Meena tilted her head and glanced at him. “That’s because you see the good in people.”

“I’m not a fucking saint, Meena,” Sam said. “She shouldn’t have said this to you or done it like this.” He threw the envelope to the ground.

“I don’t know what to do.” Meena stared at the fence where she’d planted the seeds. “I want to see the wildflowers bloom. I also want to feel welcome in my own home. I can’t have both.”

He took her hand, entwined his fingers with hers. She clung to him.

“Tell me what to do, Sam.”

He cleared his throat. “You know I can’t do that.”

She let go and stood up. Paced. “I’m so fucking sick of having to do everything on my own. I was so scared. I didn’t know anything. I had some money from insurance, I don’t know if it was life or house, I couldn’t process it, but it was twenty-five thousand dollars. At sixteen, it seemed like a lot, but then I had to figure out college. Which cost so much more than that. I had to find a way to survive, choose between working and college. Learn about scholarships. I’ve been hoarding money; I know I have a safety net, but I don’t trust that it’s enough.” She stood in front of him. “I am so tired of being on my own. I can do it, I’m good at it. But . . .”

He stood up and wrapped his arms around her.

“I can turn it off; I’ve done it before.” She moved out of his arms and picked up the envelope. “I can sign this, pack up my stuff, and leave. Forget all of this.”

He watched her. “Including me.”

Her heart finally accepted what she hadn’t allowed herself to admit. “I will never forget you. You’re not . . . you’re not a guy across the hall that I enjoy spending time with. You’re more. I don’t—” She rubbed her chest with her thumb. Things were fracturing inside, and she couldn’t control it.

“You can go, but the past will still be there. Inescapable.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I still take my parents’ call every year, even though it cuts me up inside, even though I know I’ll be useless for a month after the call. When we’re tied to people, we think about them, miss them. Need them. You can run, or you can stay,” Sam said. “You have to make the call as to which life you want to live.”

She sat back down. The envelope in her hand.

“For what it’s worth,” Sam added, “I’m sorry that you had to be an adult at sixteen. That wasn’t your call. The rest of it, doing it on your own, that’s a choice. You make it every day.”

She put her face in her hands.

He knelt in front of her. “A shitty thing happened to you. I’m sorry for that.”

When he was on his knees, they were at eye level with each other.