“I suspected.” Sabina clasped her hands together. “I knew Neha. In my background check I found the write-up of your parents’ death. I still could not be sure until you said you were adopted. The final confirmation was when you told me your birthday.”
“Some dates are unforgettable,” Meena said. “It’s March eighth for me. The day I lost my family. Did you know my name?”
Sabina shook her head. “I never knew it. I . . . never considered you mine. Not even when I was pregnant. I pushed you out and others took you away.”
“You didn’t want to hold me?”
“Or see your face. I only knew you were a girl because the doctor who delivered you said it aloud in the room.”
All adoptions start with a loss.
“I made a choice to carry the pregnancy to term.” Sabina rolled back her shoulders. “That was all. I never let you be real to me. You were someone else’s, my body was only an incubator, my punishment for breaking the rules. Something I regret to this day.”
Meena closed her eyes as she absorbed each word. This was a different ache from the pain and loss she’d suffered in the past. This was personal and impersonal. They sat side by side. One had been born from the other, but they had no connection beyond a casual acquaintance. Two spoons of sugar in her tea. The one time Sabina had braided Meena’s hair. Small acts that could have been meaningful had they known who they were to each other.
Sabina spelled it out. “You can understand now why it is better if you go.”
The anger chafed. “I guess you don’t want me to give you a card on Mother’s Day?”
“I built my life in the shape it was meant to have. I have children, a husband.”
“Yes,” Meena whispered. “A legacy. You also have friends.”
“They don’t know.”
“You want me gone to protect you. Your life.”
“And you,” Sabina added. “I don’t want to face my past every time I see you. And you shouldn’t want to see me knowing I never want to be a mother to you.”
Meena turned her back, hated that she’d stood down first, but to face this rejection in real time threatened to sink her.
“It is a very fair offer.” Sabina waited a beat before she let herself out of the apartment. Meena refused to cry. Refused to curl up in a fetal position. She stayed upright and focused on the buds beginning to form on the trees in the back garden.
The envelope still in hand, Meena went through the double doors of her bedroom and down the steps to the yard. She needed air. It was cold but not brutal. The wind breezed through her thin sweatshirt. It didn’t matter. She let the cold dull the ache in her heart.
Bitterness rose in her throat. She’d never searched for her birth mother, never wanted to until the damn notes and the mystery of it all. Now it was all here, in cruel indifference.
“Hey.” Sam sat next to her on the bench. “What’s wrong?”
Her voice was neutral. “Two point seven million dollars. That’s the price for Sabina’s peace of mind.” She handed him the envelope.
“What?”
Meena rubbed her eyes, wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “At first, when I thought I wanted to know, I had hoped for Tanvi. She’s so sweet and warm. Then I thought it was better to not know because I didn’t want to face the truth that she wouldn’t want me. I settled on Uma. Both of us can do indifference in a very comfortable way. Instead I get Sabina. The perfect caretaker of the Engineer’s House, the person who always puts this place and herself first.”
Sam put his arm around her. She chewed the inside of her cheek as they sat in silence.
“The thing is there is no win here,” Meena said. “If I leave, I give up the first place I’ve wanted to make mine. I would be a mercenary, someone who ran off for two point seven million dollars. If I stay, she’ll think it’s out of spite. That I want to force myself on her day in and day out. Her biggest regret. Have you ever been someone’s mistake, Sam? It’s a really shitty thing to hear.”
“I can’t believe she told you that.”
Meena tilted her head and glanced at him. “That’s because you see the good in people.”
“I’m not a fucking saint, Meena,” Sam said. “She shouldn’t have said this to you or done it like this.” He threw the envelope to the ground.
“I don’t know what to do.” Meena stared at the fence where she’d planted the seeds. “I want to see the wildflowers bloom. I also want to feel welcome in my own home. I can’t have both.”
He took her hand, entwined his fingers with hers. She clung to him.
“Tell me what to do, Sam.”
He cleared his throat. “You know I can’t do that.”
She let go and stood up. Paced. “I’m so fucking sick of having to do everything on my own. I was so scared. I didn’t know anything. I had some money from insurance, I don’t know if it was life or house, I couldn’t process it, but it was twenty-five thousand dollars. At sixteen, it seemed like a lot, but then I had to figure out college. Which cost so much more than that. I had to find a way to survive, choose between working and college. Learn about scholarships. I’ve been hoarding money; I know I have a safety net, but I don’t trust that it’s enough.” She stood in front of him. “I am so tired of being on my own. I can do it, I’m good at it. But . . .”
He stood up and wrapped his arms around her.
“I can turn it off; I’ve done it before.” She moved out of his arms and picked up the envelope. “I can sign this, pack up my stuff, and leave. Forget all of this.”
He watched her. “Including me.”
Her heart finally accepted what she hadn’t allowed herself to admit. “I will never forget you. You’re not . . . you’re not a guy across the hall that I enjoy spending time with. You’re more. I don’t—” She rubbed her chest with her thumb. Things were fracturing inside, and she couldn’t control it.
“You can go, but the past will still be there. Inescapable.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I still take my parents’ call every year, even though it cuts me up inside, even though I know I’ll be useless for a month after the call. When we’re tied to people, we think about them, miss them. Need them. You can run, or you can stay,” Sam said. “You have to make the call as to which life you want to live.”