The Candid Life of Meena Dave(89)

“Do you know where they’re buried?”

“Saint Mary Cemetery,” Meena said. “There weren’t that many remains, but what they found, they put in a joint box. I had to figure all of that out. I had some help, but . . .”

“You did it.”

She nodded.

“Do you want to visit them?”

Meena opened the car door. “I do.”

It took a few questions to the office staff to find her parents’ plot. It was the first time she’d been back since the funeral. There was a pink stone with white writing. JAMESON AND HANNAH DAVE. Meena ran her hands over the rough and smooth stone. “I remember it being so big. Imposing.” She sat on the ground next to it, the cool grass crunching beneath her. “I should have brought flowers.”

“Next time.” Sam sat on the other side of the stone. His jeans stretched at the knees.

Meena’s eyes welled up. “I should have come back, visited them. I should have thought about them instead of trying to forget.” Her voice broke. “They must be so disappointed in me.”

“From what you’ve told me, you did what you believed they would have wanted,” Sam said.

“Get on with it—my mother’s favorite saying.” Meena smiled.

“That’s what you did,” Sam said. “You didn’t get over it or them; you kept going. They would be proud of you.”

Her throat tight, she stopped fighting the feelings, released them. Meena rested her head on the stone. In a soft whisper she told them about her life, that she’d struggled but was happy, that she’d found home again. Then she stood and stroked the stone one more time. “Next time I’ll bring flowers.”

On an impulse she leaned down and touched her lips to the top of the headstone. She hoped her parents would feel her love for them the way she had when her dad gave her head a peck with a side of hot chocolate and cookies.

She reached out and took Sam’s hand. “Thank you. That’s all. Just thank you.”

He squeezed her hand. “I think you should treat me to a late lunch.”

She laughed. “Always trying to get me to ask you out.”

“And yet you haven’t asked.”

“Come on.” Meena tugged him back to the car. “There’s a brewery in Brattleboro, across the state border, I read about.”

Over lunch Meena told him about her next assignment, her first for the Boston Globe. She was looking forward to it, a local piece, one for which she didn’t have to travel any farther than the T would take her. She would be back in time for dinner.

“I have a surprise for you,” Meena said.

“Did you sneak in and leave something in my apartment?”

Meena fished out her phone. “Nope.” She opened the gallery and pulled up a picture. “Meet Huckleberry.”

Sam took the phone from her.

“He’s four months old, a husky-shepherd mix. I met him at the MSPCA a few days ago.”

“He’s cute.”

“Do you think Wally will like his new best friend?”

Sam put his pint down. “What did you do?”

“I filled out an application and gave them a check,” Meena said. “They’re going to call you for a reference. And if it all works out, he’ll be mine.”

“What about”—Sam cleared his throat—“when you have to leave?”

“I’m staying, Sam. I’m committing to being here. For me, but also for you. For us.” Meena moved from the chair across from him to the one next to him. “I’ve fallen for you, Sam. I like what we’re doing, building between us.” Her heart thumped faster as she put her hand on his forearm. “You are kind, intelligent, and steady. And have you looked in a mirror? You’re also attractive in an obvious way. I feel . . . um . . . I care about you.”

He put his hand over hers. She could see the gold flecks in his dark-brown eyes as he leaned in.

“You forgot to mention that I’m a fucking saint,” he said.

She leaned in and kissed him. His soft lips took over as he wrapped one arm around her and pulled her closer. She cupped his face and poured everything she felt for him into the kiss. He broke it and touched his forehead to hers. “We need to go home.”

She brushed his lips once more. Ten minutes later they were back in the car.

“Home. I like that.” She held his hand as he drove them back east to Boston.

She didn’t have to look back. She wasn’t leaving Northampton in the rearview mirror as she’d done the last time. She would come back, visit the cemetery, and remember that before the pain, there had been joy.



By the first week of May, the apartment was mostly finished. There were throw pillows and fresh flowers. It was far from full, but that suited Meena’s minimalism. She put the final frame on the fireplace mantel. Over the past few days, she had printed out the photos she’d taken from the beginning, from Halloween to chai making. Wally in different stages of growth, Sam in his James Bond tux. The frames peppered the living room, dining area, and bedroom. The mantel held the bulk of her collection.

The aunties were there in all their glory, from raking the backyard to Diwali dinner. She’d included Sabina, because she was a part of Meena’s home, even if they no longer spoke to each other. She sat on her new couch. It needed to be broken in. The cushions were still stiff, but it would get there. Her home was beginning to seem lived in. She’d put a crate for Huckleberry next to her worktable by the window and a dog bed by the fireplace, along with a basket of toys for both Wally and Huck.