The Candid Life of Meena Dave

Meena followed Tanvi’s pattern on the slab on the other side of her door. She let out a long breath. This was more relaxing than meditation. Tanvi was fun and chatty. Whenever Meena made a mistake, Tanvi didn’t scold her, only went over her work and fixed any flaws. Finished with hers, they moved across the hall to Sam’s slabs. Tanvi hummed under her breath. Meena asked her about the tune, and Tanvi began to sing a Hindi song in response. They worked together until they finished the slabs in front of each apartment.

“Thank you,” Tanvi said. “You’re not too bad at this.”

Meena laughed. “Because you cleaned up a lot of what I did.”

Tanvi stood, tray in hand. “Still. It was nice to have your company.”

“I had fun.” Meena waved goodbye and headed back down to her place. She grabbed her camera to take pictures. She felt a little thrill of energy, the joy of seeing art through her camera—not for an assignment, but for herself, for the pleasure of marking the moment, making note of a memory. Riding on the high, she decided to send a few pictures to Zoe as a way of saying hi and checking in.

She went inside to search for her phone and couldn’t find it. Thinking back to when and where she’d last used it, she retraced her steps to the side chair where she’d left her external hard drives. She felt around between the back and the cushion. “Aha.” She pulled out the phone. Beneath it she felt paper. It could be the cushion tag. She tugged at it. The papery plastic came off in her hand, and she flipped it over. Meena sighed. Neha’s handwriting, in black marker.

Sam is my favorite. Of all who have come and gone, he’s the one who gets me. He lets me be. Right now, he’s helping Sabina with the roses in the back garden. They must be just so, and never a twig out of place. She’s dictating the perfect height of the grass. Sam is following her instructions. He has patience I do not possess. I would prefer the back garden to be messy and grow wild. There is beauty in chaos.

Meena shoved the note into the envelope. A little too on the nose with this one, Neha. She ignored it. There would be another one. Of that Meena was sure. For now she wasn’t going to let Neha’s little notes take away from her cheery mood. She went back and snapped some photos with her phone and sent them to Zoe.

Finally it felt as if she was on a break.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Meena walked alongside Sam’s friends Ava, Dinus, Luis, and Xenia as they wound their way through the North End after a victorious escape room adventure. The narrow streets intersected with each other without rhyme or reason. The buildings all touched, and all housed apartments on top, small restaurants at street level. Even on a crisp mid-November evening, the odor of seafood fried in garlic lingered in the air.

Two hours trapped in a room full of puzzles wasn’t something Meena had thought she would enjoy. Surprisingly, it had been fun. Sam’s friends had all gone to MIT, so she’d puffed out her chest a little when she’d solved the final puzzle to unlock the faux prison. They’d all surrounded her in a group hug she’d strained against. She wasn’t used to casual hugs from people she’d just met. In her travels she respected and took part in cultural norms like double cheek kisses in Europe and bowing in Asian countries. And hey, this was the American way to celebrate a win, right? What was the harm?

They walked through the North End to go to the Bell in Hand, an old pub around the corner from the famous Union Oyster House.

The bar was quiet for a Sunday evening. It was entirely made up of wood, from the floor to the tables to the bar. A few people stood around in the open floor space. Ava passed them and grabbed a tall table along the windows, and half the group went to the bar to get drinks. Once they’d settled around the table, they rehashed the game, bragged about solving the hard puzzles, teased each other for missing the easy ones. Their rhythm was based on familiarity. Meena wished she had her camera with her. No. She would just be. That was her new thing. No camera, no work, no thinking. Just living in the moment.

“Where are you off to next?” Luis asked Meena.

“London.”

“Or you could stick around for a while.” Sam shrugged.

His face was open and earnest. He meant it. “My work isn’t suited for that.” What she really wanted him to understand was that she wasn’t the type to stay in one place, not in a forever sort of way. Even if she didn’t sell the apartment, if she made it her US base, she wouldn’t really live there. Not in the way most people lived in a place.

Ava jumped into the conversation. “You should definitely stay. Boston over the holidays is amazing. Skating on the Frog Pond. The tree lighting at Faneuil Hall. The Santa Speedo Run. The Holiday Pops at Symphony Hall. The library and Copley Square decorations.”

“She gets the idea,” Xenia said. “You don’t have to be a real-life version of the Boston events website.”

“Pshaw.” Ava waved her hand. “I know more about secret Boston than you will ever find on the internet.”

“I make cookie tins for everyone,” Dinus boasted. “This year, in Meena’s honor, I’ll do cookies from around the world. If you stay, you’ll get a special batch.”

A memory flashed in her mind and cracked open her heart.

Make sure you dunk your mom’s cookies in milk for at least thirty seconds so you don’t break a tooth. The memory was so vivid Meena could hear her dad’s voice, one she hadn’t heard in years.

Jameson Dave, do not fill your daughter’s head with such things. The cookies are meant to be hard. Then her dad would take one and exaggeratedly try to snap it in two. Meena would giggle quietly so as not to hurt her mom’s feelings.

One memory slid into another. She remembered the ice rink and skating while holding her dad’s hand. Every year they would drive to Boston and spend the night in a hotel so they could go to the symphony for the Holiday Pops.

“Meena might want to spend time with her family,” Luis said.

The pain of the past was so sharp Meena clutched the edge of the table with one hand.

Namrata Patel's books