“Because you want them to,” Sam said.
Need them to. But Meena couldn’t voice that. She wanted him to see the rational truth, not an emotional wish. “You don’t get it. You think because you knew her, she would have told you all of it. But she wasn’t the type to care about people. She had no use for a husband and likely didn’t think she would be a good mother. What if she couldn’t tell anyone and kept it a secret? Maybe she thought this was the only way to acknowledge me.”
Sam rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands. “When we don’t understand the whole, we tend to fill in the missing pieces, like a sentence you can read even when it’s missing all of the vowels.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
He stood and ran his hands over his face. “She told me.”
Meena stilled. “About me?”
“In a way,” Sam said. “Not by name. Parts of it. She was thirty-four when you were born. Married for two years.”
“She didn’t want to be a mother.” Meena’s voice was flat. “There are many women who don’t. You all said, over and over, that she didn’t like people. She wasn’t a nurturer.”
“And what? She hid the pregnancy from her husband?”
“Stop.” Meena didn’t want logic. She couldn’t have been wrong.
“Neha and I used to play chess.” Sam softened his voice. “Whenever she felt like talking, she would set up the board. Not often. I learned quickly that she wanted someone to listen for a few hours.”
Meena closed her eyes. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
“About three years ago,” Sam said, “she told me that she’d had a rough day. That she’d noticed the date. August sixth. She was restless. She’d been holding a secret that had become stuck in her throat. She wanted to say it out loud. She wanted to tell it to me.”
“August sixth is my birthday.” She knew she had to hear him out.
Sam nodded. “Now that I’ve put the pieces together, I know.”
Meena sat on the couch and hugged her knees into her body, wrapped her arms around them. Wally wedged his face between her thigh and stomach. She loosened her grip and relaxed her legs. Wally climbed into her lap and nuzzled her. “That’s when she told you about me?”
He shook his head. “Not you specifically, but about the time you were born. She’d been approached by a teenager who needed her help. Neha had been excited to help, proud to be of use to this person. Neha told me she’d helped the girl hide her pregnancy. Found a family to adopt the baby. The girl was so thankful, she’d let Neha name the baby.”
Neha had named her. Her heart cracked. It was as if she were losing someone again. Someone she’d let in, not even all the way in, and still it was painful. “She was talking about me.”
“I didn’t know,” Sam said. “At least not for sure. I wondered, but I didn’t know how much I could say. It wasn’t until you told me the other night. Even then I wasn’t sure how to tell you about this.”
A tear escaped and she didn’t wipe it off. Another joined. She swallowed to stop the flow, but her heart needed the release and wouldn’t let her brain stay in control. It wasn’t until she felt Sam’s arms around her that she steadied herself. Moved away from him. “Don’t.”
She went to the desk and stared out the windows that overlooked the back garden. The patch of dirt along the fence was covered with a layer of snow. She’d planted the wildflowers to annoy Sabina, but, in a way, Meena had been claiming her rightful space. “Did she say anything about the pregnant girl? Did Neha know her? Was she a relative?”
“She didn’t say much more than that,” Sam said. “I didn’t think to ask questions. She was like that, told stories when she was in the mood. Mostly about herself, her family. Things like how she’d stopped learning to cook at fifteen because she’d decided she didn’t want to become like her mother, working during the day, cooking and cleaning after her family on nights and weekends. Most of them were complaints disguised as stories. She was angry at her circumstances, yet she still reveled in what she’d made of her life.”
“I guess I’m not as good at putting a story together as I thought,” Meena said.
“I’m sorry.” He came over to her and put his hands on her arms.
She turned around to face him, shifted out of his grasp. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Meena.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
I believed I had found somewhere to belong.
“I know you’re hurting,” Sam said. “You don’t have a good poker face. I’m a friend.”
She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
She looked around the living room, surrounded by the things that belonged to the woman she thought she’d come from. Meena couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Do you believe her? Could she have been lying to you?”
He gave her a sad smile. “The timeline. She was of an age where she could have taken care of you.”
Meena nodded and rubbed her hands over her arms. “Do the aunties know too?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t think so. She barely told me. And even then in pieces.”
Meena nodded. “You must think I’m such a fool.”
“No.” Sam took her hand in his. “You just didn’t know the whole of it. I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
He leaned over and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. The faint contact made her yearn for more. That was the problem. Wanting. Needing. Yearning. Those words had seeped into her vocabulary these last few months. Her life didn’t revolve around people or a place. She’d been free. She knew what she had to do. Leaning on Sam wasn’t it.