“It’s my place to do so.” Sabina rose back up. “This is my building.”
Meena kept quiet instead of reminding her that this was Meena’s apartment. Honey and flies and all that.
“There is a blizzard in the forecast starting later tonight.” Sabina added a few more details about the coming storm. “If you need food or anything, I suggest you go get it now. They’re saying eighteen to twenty-six inches.”
“They mentioned it on the flight in,” Meena said. “I’ll run out to the market. Let me know if you need anything.”
“We’re fine. I’m surprised to see you back so soon. I thought you had work that takes you all over.” Sabina walked around watering the few plants, holdovers from Neha.
“I do need a base, somewhere to keep my things.” Meena tried to keep her voice neutral. She wanted to get along with this woman. “This is a good one. Close to New York, an international airport.”
“I see.”
Meena hoped she did. “Thank you again.”
Sabina finished up and nodded before leaving the apartment.
When Sabina left, Meena locked the door. She knew she’d have to adjust and keep it unlocked . . . at least part of the time. But she wasn’t ready for that. Baby steps.
She bundled up and headed out for storm supplies. As she turned left, she saw Sam walk with Wally down the block. They were on their way back. She switched directions and took the long way around to the small market on Newbury Street.
Neha could have outfitted a fifty-person ugly-sweater party. Meena folded a peacock-green sweater with a giant rooster embellished with glass stones. She’d already filled a box, one of a dozen empties she’d picked up from the corner liquor store during her presnowstorm supply run. She’d done it in four trips back and forth because a blizzard was the perfect time to clean out the apartment.
The wind howled, and she could see snow falling sideways through the french doors. Inside she was warm from the hiss of the radiators and her exertion. After her initial encounters with Sabina, Sam, and Wally, the previous day had been uneventful. No aunties had run into the apartment with a thermos of chai and conversation. Instead she’d sat in her designated chair at the dining table and eaten a solitary bowl of canned soup.
Funny. A few months ago, she’d craved time alone. Thought the aunties barging in for visits was intrusive. Now she kept waiting to hear footsteps. When she did, she’d hold her breath for a knock on the door. But the only visitors she saw were a snow-removal crew coming to clear out what fell to keep up with the blizzard.
Meena closed one box, shoved it to the side, and grabbed an empty one. The bedroom closet and dresser were going to use up all the boxes she had. But looking around, she saw she’d already made a difference in the room. This apartment was no longer a shrine to Neha and her belongings. Meena would ask the aunties if they wanted anything before donating them.
She had also decided to deal with the books last, if ever. Tanvi’s husband was interested, so she would have him take what he wanted. She might leave the rest, as they gave the living room a studious vibe.
She hopped up as she heard a knock on the door.
“You’re back.” Tanvi enveloped Meena in a hug.
Meena was stunned for a second at the casual affection. For the first time since she’d been back, she felt welcomed. She stepped back from Tanvi, who was dressed in a long purple skirt with matching tights and a white wool sweater. Her hair was up in a loose bun, and purple gems dangled from her ears.
“What are you up to?” Tanvi stepped around the boxes.
“Clearing out some of Neha’s things in the bedroom.” Meena led Tanvi back.
“I suppose it is time.” Tanvi found an empty spot on the floor and sat down. “Let me help.” She began folding. “We talked about it but couldn’t make ourselves do it. Then you came. Then you left. How was your trip? I told Uma and Sabina that we’re adding Seoul to our list of trips. I want to go to that club.”
“You’ll love it.”
“I would never judge anyone’s fashion sense, but Neha’s was really out there.” Tanvi held up a sweater in bright red. The front had a black felt top hat, mustache, and monocle sewn on. “I’m not sure anyone could pull this off.”
Meena laughed. Tanvi joined in.
“I remember her wearing a lot of these,” Tanvi said. “Uma is usually in jeans. Sabina must always have some Indian artifact on, jewelry or a kurta. I thought I was the brave one in my color choices. But Neha took it to the next level.”
“You’re welcome to anything you’d like to keep.” Meena waved her arm over the clothes. “This is just the beginning. I’m going to donate most everything.”
Tanvi nodded. “Don’t donate the art. It’s kitschy and weird, but some of it I made.”
“I’d like to keep what’s yours.” She really hoped it wasn’t the nude bottle-caps dude.
Tanvi gave her a big smile. “Of course.”
Meena chewed on her lip. “Can I ask why no one’s come by since I’ve been back?”
“I just did.”
Meena nodded. “You didn’t bring chai. And I haven’t seen Uma at all.”
“I see. It’s not the company you’re missing but the tea.”
“No. It is the company. Things feel different somehow.”
Tanvi crossed her legs on the floor and reached over for another empty box. “Well, we didn’t know if you were coming back. You never mentioned it in any of our conversations or texts. You came back the way you left, without word. This building is like a family. Yes, it can seem a little too close with everyone in each other’s business. It’s what we’re used to and you’re not.”
“I know I’m not part of the family . . .”
“I meant it’s not what you’re used to,” Tanvi said. “You keep your door locked and come and go as you please, and that’s understandable.”
“You’re right. I haven’t been very . . . I don’t know . . . involved.”
Tanvi reached over and squeezed Meena’s hand. “Yes. But we are here if—when you want to see what it is like again.”