Sabina stayed still in the living room. “It looks different.”
Meena nodded. “It’s more me now. Though I didn’t know what ‘me’ was. I’m just glad there are a lot of home decor blogs with advice. You won’t believe how many quizzes I took to figure out what I wanted. I like it.” She chewed her lip. She didn’t want Sabina’s approval, exactly, but a compliment would be meaningful. “Sam likes it, but then again, he’s not really a style maven. He’s happy that he can stretch his legs out and rest his feet on the coffee table. He also wants me to get a TV, a giant flat-screen, but he has his own. I’m fine using my computer.” She forced herself to stop talking.
“You’ve been very busy.” There was weight in Sabina’s voice, an uncertainty.
“I know it’s different, but it was time. I’ve been here for a little over six months.”
“Yes,” Sabina said. “And Neha died a year ago this week.”
She hadn’t realized the time. She would need to call the lawyers and figure out what needed to be done in order for her to take full ownership. “I’m sorry. It must be hard for you,” Meena said. “All of you. If my clearing this out causes you more pain, it wasn’t my intention.”
Sabina cleared her throat. “In our culture, we have a little ceremony and a meal to mark the death anniversary. There is a sraddha puja, at the mandir. It’s to clear the path for the deceased and link their souls to their forefathers. The family schedules and performs it. We have a slot at the mandir for tomorrow morning. Thursday is an auspicious day.”
“I see. Sam didn’t mention it.”
Sabina shook her head. “None of the men are coming. It will be only Uma, Tanvi, and me there. It’s our duty to fulfill, as Neha doesn’t have family here. I talked to her parents, and they’re not planning on doing anything.”
Meena nodded.
Sabina straightened her spine and walked up to Meena. “I know that you are trying to make a go of it here, that you want to stay. I’m here to ask you to reconsider.”
Meena sat down. “Why?”
“You told me time and again that your career is important, that you enjoy traveling from place to place. I think you might have gotten caught up in this building, the story of it. We are happy to know you, but you should think about what you’re giving up.”
“I can work from here,” Meena explained. “I have an assignment coming up.”
“This building, it requires permanence from its residents,” Sabina argued. “The apartments need caretaking. It’s not a place to store your things. It needs life. People.”
“I’m people,” Meena assured her. “I am taking care of what’s mine.”
“For how long?” Sabina sat next to her. “You have said you often travel eleven months of the year. What happens when you miss it? When the excitement of a mundane life wears off and you want to go back out into the world?”
“I am thinking through it,” Meena said. “Reconsidering the type of jobs I take.”
“Or there is another option.” Sabina held out a folder. “Here. Take a look.”
Meena took the manila envelope from Sabina. “What’s this?”
“It’s an offer to buy the apartment.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This is a big responsibility, to live in this building, to do what upholding tradition requires,” Sabina said. “This is my way of giving you the option to not have the burden.”
The word burrowed into Meena. A woman’s burden. “This apartment is entailed to me.”
“With an out clause.” Sabina tapped the document. “At the one-year mark, you can sell it. I’m sure the attorneys gave you the information.”
“Yes. But how do you know about it?”
“About a decade ago, I had a clause added in for situations where there were no heirs,” Sabina said. “Neha did not have children or siblings. Her cousin, the only child of her mother’s only sister, died in a motorcycle accident, and he was younger than Neha. I spoke to her about it. She did not want to sell to me after her death. I told her she could do whatever she wanted with it but to have something in the will in case the apartment stays empty. It’s not just walls and rooms, it is living history and needs to be cared for as such.”
“I see.” Meena clutched the envelope. Neha’s only heir was a male cousin. Dead.
“You don’t really want to live here. This, the redecorating, it’s temporary,” Sabina said. “You’re happy moving from place to place. Look at the offer. This is Back Bay, Boston. This apartment has been appraised for two point seven million dollars. You can go anywhere for that, do anything. Leave this all behind and get back to the life you left.”
Meena understood what was left unspoken. She wasn’t welcome here. She was an outsider. This time not by choice. Her eyes burned. She cleared her throat. “I see.”
“Do you?”
Meena looked closely at Sabina and knew. She was staring into familiar eyes. Her own. Meena was adept at letting someone see or not see through her eyes. Sabina was letting her see. A woman’s burden. Neha’s aunt’s son. It all fell into place.
Bile choked her. “That’s not the real reason, is it?”
Sabina crossed her arms. “It is the only reason I can give.”
Meena shook her head. “You won’t even speak the words.”
Sabina’s hands clamped together.
“Are you that skilled that you can forget the first time you gave birth?” Meena asked. “Pretend I don’t exist?”
“Aren’t you the one who claims to not live in the past?” Sabina said.
Meena stopped herself from fidgeting on the sofa. The cushion was still stiff from being so new, but it supported her when her legs couldn’t. “I guess avoidance is genetic.”
Sabina snapped her eyes to Meena.
“How long have you known?” Meena wanted it all laid bare. She waited. Let silence do the work.