The Direction of the Wind: A Novel(27)

“I’m sure it will be fine,” she said, forcing her voice to sound light and airy. She had been raised not to leave her problems with other people.

Mathieu’s eyes bore into hers, showing he did not believe her facade. “How can I help?”

She shrugged, turning away from him. “I don’t suppose there’s much you can do unless you know someone willing to hire an Indian woman who doesn’t speak French and pay her in cash.” She tried to laugh it off, knowing that if such a person existed, she would have found them by now.

She could see his mind swirling, his desire to help written across his face. He had been so attuned to her needs as their friendship developed, and his empathy was the quality Nita most respected about him.

“There must be something you can do for work,” he said, mostly to himself. Turning to her, he added, “We will find a way. Many people come to Paris just like you, and they find a way. We will too.”

She felt her cheeks flush. “You’ve been such a good friend already. You don’t need to take on this burden.”

He gave her his half smile. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t? Besides, I cannot have an unhappy muse! It’s bad for business!”

She looked at him, grateful for her fortune that in a city with this many people, she had stumbled upon this one. She had never had a stranger become a friend and was often surprised by how much he or Dao or Cecile were willing to let her into their lives, having known her for such a short time. Her friends in India had been curated for her. As a child, she had been introduced to the daughters of her parents’ friends, and then as an adult, it had been the wives of Rajiv’s friends. She’d never been in the position of doing something for herself and meeting someone whose path she was not predetermined to cross. Her bonds with her new friends in Paris felt so much stronger than the ties she’d had to people she’d known for her entire life. She had chosen her people in France, and choice made all the difference.



A few days later, Nita was at the reception desk of the hostel, covering an evening shift. Cecile had a date that night with a guy she’d claimed was “the one” and had taken the afternoon to get herself ready for it. The concept of spending hours getting ready to meet someone was completely foreign to Nita. Then again, the concept of dating was foreign to her too. Nita was flipping through a fashion magazine Cecile had left behind, trying to read the French and work on her language skills, when Dao came down the stairs.

“I’d like to complain about my room partner,” she said dramatically.

Nita gave her an exaggerated eye roll. Dao loved to voice her “complaints” whenever Nita was covering a shift. Seemed the joke was funny to her every time, although Nita had to admit she enjoyed the banter as well. Le Canard Volant was not exactly a hotbed of activity, so the job was rather dull, but Nita was grateful for any amount of money she could earn. She was at the point where she was practically surviving only on the wine and cigarettes that she shared with Mathieu and was growing rather thin.

“You off to work?” Nita asked her.

She nodded. “In a bit. Haven’t seen much of you around lately, though. Seems you have to be doing a shift for me to find you!” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke.

“I’ve been working on my art projects.”

Dao laughed. “Oh, is that what you’re calling it?”

Nita blushed, knowing what she meant but wanting to set the record straight—for herself as much as Dao.

“Yes,” she said definitively. “I know you love a good intrigue, but that’s really all I’m doing. It’s the reason I came here, and if I’m not focused on my art, then I may as well go back to India.”

Dao leaned over to see the magazine Nita had in front of her. “Whatever suits your narrative,” she said.

Nita knew there was no use convincing her. Dao saw the world as a never-ending romantic comedy. She’d confessed how stifling it had been for her when she lived with her parents in London and her immigrant parents had expected her to be laser focused on her schooling so she could get a good job and had frowned upon any sort of dating. Dao said she had fallen in love a thousand times with the characters on her television screen because they were all she had. But now that she was out from under her family’s watchful stares, in a city that was entirely her own, she was going to turn each of those romances she’d watched into a real story in her life. While Nita could relate to the freedom of being in a city without fear of her family seeing and judging her actions, she could not imagine having such a rosy outlook about love and romance. Still, she was grateful to have someone in her life who saw so much good in the world around her. Nita had been having some very low moments as she contemplated what her future looked like, and Dao’s energy often helped her pick herself up and try again the next day.

“And what about you?” Nita asked. “Is there not a young Frenchman at the bar who has caught your eye?”

Dao laughed again. “Please. There are several! It would be easier to count the ones I don’t fancy.”

Nita didn’t think she could ever be that carefree with her heart, especially at this late stage in life. Dao’s perspective seemed like one that had to be ingrained in a person from childhood. And it was so interesting to Nita that, given that Dao’s parents sounded similar to hers when it came to tradition and a woman’s place, Dao still managed to have that natural way about her when she dealt with dating. Nita couldn’t imagine herself being anything other than awkward.