The Direction of the Wind: A Novel(58)

Nita shrugged, knowing she was already drunk. Her words had been slurring, but she was too far in to stop herself from drinking more. She was right in that danger zone, but it felt good to relax for a night. She heard the cork releasing from the bottle, and Simon handed her a freshly filled glass of wine.

“This is fun,” she said.

He plopped onto the sofa next to her. “It is. Funny how more alcohol leads to more fun.”

“No wonder my family in India was so boring.” She laughed. They’d already discussed how her home state was dry and she’d never tried alcohol until that first time when she had tried it with Mathieu.

“Also explains why you are such a lightweight.” Simon playfully punched her arm. “Although you are managing to hold your own today. Just like a regular French wino.”

Nita took another long sip from her glass, the liquid tasting earthy and rich as it slid down her throat. “I’m a quick study.”

Simon nodded and leaned back against the sofa cushions and stretched out his legs. As soon as he did that, she heard the thump of the wine bottle hitting the floor. They both swooped down to pick it up and hit their heads instead.

“Ow!”

They jerked their heads back, and then Simon finally righted the bottle, but not before most of its contents had spilled onto the floor. Nita brought her face back down to stare at the red mess. Neither of them moved to clean it up and instead just watched the liquid snake across the floor.

“Maybe the universe is suggesting we stop drinking,” Nita said.

“Or it thinks that wine wasn’t good enough for us and we should open a better bottle,” Simon said in a low voice, continuing to stare at the floor.

Nita laughed, and he eventually joined her in her drunken laughing fit. The two began laughing so hard that they held on to each other to keep from falling backward. Nita had tears in her eyes, and Simon’s were glistening as well. She wiped hers with the back of her hand and then stared at the moisture on her skin.

“It’s kind of nice to know these are from laughing and not sad crying,” she said to him. “These past couple days—”

Simon’s warm wine-stained lips were on top of hers before she could finish her sentence. She felt her eyes widen and wasn’t sure what to do. Just as quickly as he’d kissed her, he pulled away, keeping his face close to hers and staring, as if waiting for a sign. She could tell that he didn’t know if she was going to slap him and jump off the couch.





37


SOPHIE


2019


The wheels are turning in Sophie’s mind as she tries to think of other ways to find Nita, and she is completely startled when she walks into the reception area of Le Canard Volant that night after her shift at the restaurant and sees Kiran sitting on the grimy purple sofa. She freezes as soon as she lays eyes on him.

He stands to greet her. “Hello, Sophie.” He shifts shyly. “Or perhaps I should be saying bonjour.”

She glances from him to the reception desk, where Cecile has muttered an annoyed bonsoir to herself and is watching the two of them. Sophie then turns back to Kiran. “What are you doing here?” she stammers.

“I came to see you.” His words are careful, and he watches her intently.

From the reception desk, Cecile says, “He said he was a friend of yours, and asked if he could wait for you.” She loiters about, like a mother elephant observing her calf.

Sophie waves her off and manages a smile. “Yes, Cecile, it’s fine. We know each other from India.”

Cecile nods and disappears into the small office behind the reception desk.

When they are alone, Sophie whispers, “What are you doing here?”

Kiran matches her hushed tone. “I wanted to see you. I had to pry it out of her, but Sharmila Auntie told me where you are.”

“Maybe we should go for a walk,” she says, guiding him toward the door.

The cool air is refreshing against her skin. There are only a few people on the streets, striding with purpose, given the late hour. Sophie feels safe walking with Kiran, and something about his demeanor has always made her feel like it’s in his nature to protect others. It reminds her of the way she felt around Papa.

“I’m sorry to have shown up like this,” he says, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, into which his checked button-down shirt is tucked.

Other than their brown skin, the pair of them look very Western as they stroll down the streets in the Latin Quarter. They could easily be tourists on a trip.

“Why did you?” Sophie asks. “I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly, but I had asked my fois to pass along the message to your family . . .”

He nods. “And they did. They said you were gone for a couple of weeks, and then we would set a new date when you returned.” He stared at her with a wry smile. “But I guess I knew better and wanted to see you myself.”

“Oh.”

Sophie feels bad for adding this drama to Kiran’s life. This is the first time the two have been alone together, but there is an ease between them. Maybe it is the familiarity of being with someone from a similar background who understands her life. The past week has been a series of new experiences, all of them far beyond her comfort zone.

“I’m sorry they were not honest with you,” she says softly. She never wanted him to be collateral damage in the mess that had become her life. “I learned some things about my family that I needed to explore, and I didn’t think it would be fair to involve you in that.”