“It’s nice that you have this,” Meena said.
“Yeah.” Tanvi gave her a soft smile. “I’m sure they weren’t all great. Uma could likely tell you about the problematic parts, but the very fact that they came here, left what they knew for the unknown in a time when they were likely the only Asian Indian people here, there is something to be proud of, not just for those of us in this house, but for our immigrant story.”
Meena handed Tanvi the rest of the apple tart. “Thank you for sharing with me.”
Tanvi took it. “I guess sometimes a second breakfast is a good thing. But I will let you get on with your day. I’m going to shop. I might even pick up a housewarming present for you.”
Meena finished off the croissant. “If you give me an hour, I’ll go with you. I can work on my pitches later.”
Tanvi rose to her feet. “Excellent, we can talk color.”
“Just keep in mind, I’m on a budget,” Meena said. “Like nothing-over-fifty-dollars budget.”
“Well, we can always window-shop.” Tanvi headed for the door. “Text me when you’re ready.”
With Tanvi gone, Meena headed for the shower. A little roaming was what was next, and that was what she would do. As she grabbed clothes out of the built-in dresser, she spied the yellow envelope on the bed. It was crumpled, but the contents were still secure. It could wait. She left it where it was. A long, hot shower, a walk on a sunny day, a little window-shopping. That was all she wanted for now.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Meena waited for Sam to take Wally for a walk before she sneaked into his apartment and dropped off her gift. During her walk with Tanvi, she’d found a street artist, an engraver. She’d gone back later in the day to commission a little piece for Sam. She’d picked it up from her this morning and couldn’t wait to leave it for him.
She placed it on his coffee table, in the center, and stacked his clutter in one corner so he didn’t miss it. It was a large clear glass mug with Fucking Saint etched on it in a handwritten script. She’d stuffed the mug with homemade dog biscuits, which were apparently a thing. She scurried out of there before he came back.
Meena had spent the last two days doing whatever came next. She’d reveled in just being, living. Yesterday she’d wandered around the other side of the Charles River in Cambridge and then into Somerville. The weather was holding up, though Meena knew that it wasn’t uncommon for Boston to have an April blizzard. She hoped there wouldn’t be one. She welcomed the renewal, not just in the season, but in herself.
Even though she hadn’t touched the offer, she’d refused to let it weigh her down. Maybe she was avoiding it, pretending it didn’t exist, but it was hard to miss, the manila envelope on the nightstand. When she’d gone through therapy in high school, her therapist, Cindy, would tell her to respond, not to react. Ignoring the envelope wasn’t avoiding; she was taking time to figure out her response. It had been three days since she’d seen Sabina. They hadn’t encountered each other in passing, Sabina had not spent time in the backyard, and the hallway was in its undecorated form, with a fresh bouquet of flowers and a bowl of potpourri. The Engineer’s House was atypically quiet.
She heard Sam and Wally come into the building, then heard his door close. Meena couldn’t wipe the grin off her face as she imagined him laughing when he saw the mug. Her heart was completely full with a mix of a schoolgirl crush and a layer of grown-up self-assurance. She hugged the feeling close to her.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Zoe. Instead of texting back, she called.
“The apartment is huge,” Zoe yelled into the phone. “Now that it’s got a lot less in it.”
Meena laughed. She’d sent Zoe pictures before the furniture arrived. “I’m not overdoing it, right now just a few things to sit on, somewhere to eat.”
“It’s a fantastic place,” Zoe said.
“You’ll have to come visit,” Meena offered. “In the summer.”
Meena grinned. It was all clear in this moment. Just like that, the anxiety and uncertainty faded. This was hers, by birth and by right. Doubly so.
“I’d love to.” Zoe hesitated. “But what if you get an assignment in Tibet or something? You’ll pop off, and I’m not one for solo holidays.”
“We can sort it out.”
“Then it sounds like a plan.”
“You know that planner you gave me?”
“Tell me you’ve been using it.”
“In a way,” Meena said. “I flirted with Sam, and now we’re dating, seeing where this could go.”
“Oh my God.”
Meena laughed. “I know. It’s . . . I don’t know how to describe it.”
“Teenage-girl crush?”
“It feels bigger than that. More. I don’t want to get ahead of myself. It just feels nice.”
“Enjoy every second of it,” Zoe said. “One day he’ll make you watch him play video games, and you’ll want to remember that you do really like him.”
“I will. OK, I’ll write down the dates once you figure out when you want to visit and block out my calendar,” Meena said.
“Who are you?”
Meena Dave. Meena laughed. “I’m happy.”
“I like it,” Zoe said. “All right, let’s do it. A holiday in Boston. If you don’t make me do any historical tours, it’ll be a blast.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to take you to all the parts of Boston where we fought the British and won. There’s an entire Freedom Trail dedicated to the markers of our independence from you lot.”
“In that case”—Zoe smirked—“I’ll be sure to carry the Union Jack and wave it around.”