Falling into Place Read online

  Tara put a hand on Sameen’s shoulder. “Please get me a drink. I can’t move much in these heels.”

  “Sure.” Tara’s hand was burning right through her dress but Sameen didn’t want to move.

  “I’ll get it,” Milind said. “Wine?”

  “Red,” Tara clarified.

  “I’ll come with you. I need a refill.” Barkha gave Tara a lingering look as she followed Milind.

  “So,” Tara turned to Sameen, “you, um, look really…great.” She didn’t meet Sameen’s eyes.

  “Thanks.” Sameen’s face was warm and she felt stiflingly hot.

  “I’m guessing you’re Mona Eltahawy, the author you couldn’t stop talking about.”

  “Yes.” Sameen gave a laugh. It came out forced.

  There was an awkward pause. The music became louder, and Sameen started as a pair of hands went around her waist.

  “Dance?” Rohan said in her ear.

  Sameen felt a stab of annoyance. But she smiled, took his hand, and allowed him to twirl her around and lead her to the dance area. The urge to turn back to Tara was almost overwhelming. She could imagine Tara’s eyes on her, and the thought made her stomach clench with an unexplained yearning.

  As Tara watched them go, a pinprick of jealousy nudged her, something she knew she had no right feeling. But what did she have to be upset about? They were a couple and she had to be okay with it. She had a wonderful friendship with Sameen. And that was as far as things between them could ever go.

  “Red wine for you, Ms Bing.” Milind’s voice startled her.

  She tore her eyes away from Sameen and took her drink. “Thanks.” Her throat was dry. She gulped down a generous amount.

  “Whoa, steady there, sister,” Milind said. “You have those high heels to think of.”

  “What? Oh, right.” She gave herself a shake and shifted a bit so Sameen and Rohan were no longer in her vision. “Is Ashish here? I haven’t said hi.”

  “Come, then.” Milind took her arm and led her back into the house.

  Tara had no idea how time flew that evening. There was a pleasant buzz in her head from the wine as she stood against the railing outside, letting the cold breeze ruffle her hair. Barkha said something, and Tara laughed even though she barely heard her. Her gaze followed Sameen, who had come outside to help clear the table to serve dinner. She caught Tara’s eye and smiled. Tara’s heart fluttered.

  Not again. This is supposed to be under control.

  Tara was sure she had smiled, nodded, eaten, drunk, laughed, and maybe even danced a little that evening, but it had all been mechanical, on autopilot. Sameen was the only thing she could recall being aware of, like she was the north of the compass and Tara the needle.

  “I should go help,” she said half-heartedly.

  Barkha stopped in the middle of whatever story she’d been telling. “You haven’t heard a word, have you?”

  “What?”

  “Exactly. And no, don’t you dare try to carry any food on those stilts while you’re tipsy.”

  “I’m not tipsy.”

  “Then why does your tongue fall out each time you clap eyes on Sameen?”

  “Barkha!”

  Barkha pressed her lips together. “I tell it like I see it.”

  “Nobody wants to hear your rubbish.”

  Tara pushed herself off the railing and went inside, bristling at Barkha’s words. Her feet were killing her. She figured Sameen wouldn’t mind if she borrowed a pair of flats, so she went looking for the shoe cupboard.

  Sameen and Rohan’s bedroom was a dumping ground for the guests’ coats, shawls, and scarves. Deciding to take a breather, Tara sank down in the only available corner of the bed in relief. She closed her eyes and leaned sideways against the wall. Barkha’s words came back to her. While Tara was used to her being about as blunt as a bludgeon, Barkha could be uncannily perceptive sometimes, especially about anything to do with Tara.

  “Tara?”

  Her eyes snapped open. Sameen was standing at the door.

  “Everything all right?”

  “Oh, er, yes,” she said, slightly breathless. “I…just wanted a moment. And I borrowed a pair of shoes.”

  “Cool.” Sameen shuffled from one foot to the other. “I should, um…” She gestured behind her.

  “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

  “You should come get some food while there’s still some,” Sameen said as she turned away.

  Tara reluctantly went back into the melee. Things were a lot quieter, as people were eating. The music had been turned down, and the walls were no longer vibrating. The neighbours must have heaved a sigh of relief.

  Tara wasn’t really hungry and pecked at her food. She and a few others helped clear up afterwards and, just as they were done, someone called out that it was five minutes to the new year.

  An excited shout came from the balcony. “Fireworks!”

  “But it’s not midnight yet,” Tara told someone dressed as Elvis.

  “Someone’s watch must be fast,” Elvis responded.

  Most of the guests had surged outside to watch the fireworks, which, from the sound of it, seemed pretty major. Tara decided that fireworks could wait and it was her bladder that needed urgent attention.

  When she came out of the bathroom, the house was empty. Everyone was outside and, from the sounds filtering through, the fireworks were being much appreciated. She headed towards the kitchen to get some water.

  As she turned into the kitchen, a movement startled her. Sameen unfolded herself from one of the cupboards under the counter.

  “Oh, you gave me a fright,” Sameen said. “Aren’t you watching the fireworks?”

  “I just came to get some water,” Tara said.

  “Let me get that for you.” Sameen reached for the disposable glasses on the counter.

  “No, it’s okay,” began Tara as she reached for them too. Their hands touched and a jolt of electricity ran through Tara.

  Sameen’s fingers moved along the back of Tara’s hand and curled around her palm. Tara was frozen to the spot. They were so close, she could feel the heat radiating off Sameen. She could see her chest rise and fall, feel her breath on her face. She knew she should pull away right now, but her body refused to move. An unknown force held her in place, transfixed by the hand that curved around hers. Blood pounded in her ears. The shouts of “Happy New Year” seemed to come from another world.

  “Happy New Year,” whispered Tara. She raised her eyes to Sameen’s. They were brighter, shinier than she recalled. Sameen held her gaze for a few moments, then her eyes dropped to Tara’s mouth, and she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Tara’s.

  The world stopped. Tara felt like the ground beneath her feet had melted away and she was suspended in midair. When she closed her eyes, everything ceased to exist—the solidness of the floor under her, the walls of the kitchen, the sound of fireworks, and the people cheering outside. The only thing that remained was Sameen, and Sameen’s soft, warm hands cupping her face and drawing her close.

  Instinctively, Tara slipped her arms around Sameen’s waist, drawing her even tighter to herself. Her familiar perfume filled Tara’s senses. She groaned softy as she felt her body dissolve into Sameen’s. An eager urgent need possessed her and aroused in her an awareness she hadn’t thought she was capable of. Her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest as their bodies pressed close together, their tongues exploring each other with urgency. If this was a dream, Tara never wanted to wake up. But she knew it was no dream; it was a terrifying and exhilarating reality.

  The arms that wrapped around Sameen’s waist, feeling the warmth and the softness of her skin, seemed to belong to someone else. And yet, the way her heart filled with an inexplicable comfort which expanded to fill her entire body felt like a homecoming. Despite her senses screami
ng to stop, there was the other part of her that exulted in finally being able to do what she had been yearning to for a long time.

  Something within Tara burnt as bright as the fireworks that were going off against the darkened night sky outside. She felt alive in a way that redefined the word. At every point her body touched Sameen’s, it was as though her nerve-endings had been infused with an electricity that lit her up, inside and outside. All her bottled-up feelings for Sameen, the ones she had kept such a tight cap on, spilled out, threatening to sweep her away in a tidal wave of joy and thrill and a feeling of completeness. But all of it tinged by just a soupçon of sadness. Because even then, in that moment when all of Tara’s defences lay breached, she knew deep down that this was not to be. And yet, if she couldn’t have this, if she didn’t have this, she had nothing, wanted nothing.

  “Sameen, where’s my Happy New Year kiss?”

  Rohan’s voice hit her like a splash of cold water. They sprang apart, and before anyone could move, Rohan bounded into the kitchen, his face red.

  Tara didn’t wait. She turned and walked away, faster and faster, till she was running down the stairs as quickly as her sari would allow.

  Chapter 20

  The pink-orange streaks of dawn had started to paint the sky outside when Sameen realized she’d lain in bed for the past few hours. She couldn’t even remember if she’d tossed and turned, or just remained motionless, staring at darkness, as sleep had remained elusive. She turned on her side, towards the window, and closed her eyes, desperate for some respite from the scene in the kitchen with Tara that played in her head for the millionth time. But every time she tried to close her eyes, she could see it even more clearly.

  What had happened? And how? She had never been attracted to a woman. She’d had many boyfriends. Didn’t that prove she was straight?

  Was it because Tara was gay and had given out some sort of vibe that she’d subconsciously picked up on? But that didn’t make sense either. They had an easy, comfortable friendship, and Tara had never expressed any interest in her as far as Sameen could recall. In fact, Tara had insisted she hadn’t expressed an interest in anybody in ages. So what had happened at the party?

  Where had all this come from? What was happening to her? Was she a lesbian now, or bisexual, or something else?

  Sameen sat up and swung her feet to the floor. The chilled tiles under her jolted her to reality. It was bright outside now—which meant she had to have drifted off to sleep for a bit. But she felt far from rested. Her head was heavy, and a dull ache nestled between her shoulders. Even keeping her eyes open was more effort than she thought she could manage.

  But she couldn’t bear to think about it anymore. She rose and picked her way through the leftover mess from the party to get to the kitchen, which was an even greater mess. Her gaze lingered on the counter, where everything had happened.

  She only realized she’d made herself a cup of tea when she held the steaming mug in her hands. She put it down, remembering she hadn’t brushed her teeth, and immediately wondered if she was going crazy, thinking of brushing her teeth at a time like this.

  Sameen went to the bathroom and then back into the bedroom. She pulled open her cupboard and absently picked out underwear, a pair of trousers, and a sweater to wear to work.

  Rohan stirred when the cupboard shut with its customary click. “Uh…what are you doing?” he asked thickly.

  “Getting dressed. I have to go to work.”

  “It’s first January,” Rohan said. “There’s no work.”

  “Oh,” Sameen said, staring at the sweater in her hand.

  Rohan sat up suddenly. “Oh shit! I have a brunch meeting with Dayal! Aieee…” He held his head in his hands for a moment, then got out of bed and tottered to the bathroom.

  When Rohan came out smelling of jasmine soap, Sameen was dressed for work.

  “You’re all jazzed up early in the morning,” he said. “Where are you off to?”

  “Office,” said Sameen absently, leaning forward into the mirror to apply eyeliner.

  “Sameen?”

  The tone of his voice made her turn to him.

  “We just had this conversation. It’s a holiday.”

  Sameen looked down at herself. She didn’t recall getting dressed. “Oh.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I-I’m really tired.”

  “Yeah, you look a bit peaky. Get back into bed.”

  “I should clean the house…”

  “It can wait. We’ll do it together when I come back.”

  Sameen changed back into pyjamas, heated her now-cold tea in the microwave, and went to see if the newspaper had arrived.

  When Rohan came back late in the afternoon, she was still sitting on the sofa, and the newspaper was still lying rolled up on the balcony.

  “Are you okay?” He looked worried and a little puzzled.

  She was puzzled too. Where had the day gone? Rohan was looking around at the mess, just as it was from the party last night.

  “Should we go to the doctor?”

  Sameen shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine.” He dropped his bag to the floor. “Have you eaten anything?”

  But Sameen couldn’t remember.

  Tara sank into her chair with relief. Something about her poky little cubicle made her feel at home, even with its scuffed bulletin board and the slightly creaky wheel on her chair. The tippity-tappity of the keyboard and the intermittent hum of conversation from a couple of her colleagues covering a cricket Test match being played in New Zealand were the first things this morning that had made her feel normal.

  She didn’t have to come in today, but the other option was to go to her uncle’s house for lunch, where the conversation would invariably drift towards her mother’s recently abandoned husband-hunting project. And Tara really wasn’t in the mood to deal with that.

  She checked her official mail (only spam and press releases), then checked to see if there was anything she could update on the website (there wasn’t). On a whim, she decided to check her personal mail, which turned out to be a bad idea. The top few mails in her inbox were old ones from Sameen.

  Tara closed her eyes and rested the base of her palms against them.

  Sameen.

  This was such a disaster. She had been so sure she had her feelings under control. She had promised herself she would stay in control. What had she done wrong? How could she have let her guard slip?

  Her throat hurt from trying not to cry. What am I going to do?

  “Happy New Year,” said a cheery voice. “Hangover?”

  Tara jerked up to see her boss, Kabir, pass by with a wave, looking fresh as a daisy, as if he’d gone to bed by nine last night.

  “Happy New Year to you too,” she managed. She stared at the office door that swung shut after him.

  A moment or two later, Tara went up and knocked, then edged the door open.

  “Yes, Tara?” Kabir continued to frown at his monitor without looking up.

  “I need to talk to you.” She stepped inside.

  Tara left his office fifteen minutes later, feeling a little shaky but definitely lighter. Barkha would probably have things to say, but she could deal with her later. Right now, she needed to keep her sanity intact.

  Twenty-four hours later, Tara stood between an open suitcase and piles of clothes on the bed, mechanically transferring the piles from one side to the other. Her phone rang. She glanced at it—it was Barkha. Again.

  Tara sighed and reached for it. She couldn’t ignore her forever.

  “Hi, Barkha. What’s up?”

  “What’s up?” Barkha demanded. “You are asking me what’s up? Why aren’t you in office?”

  “I have things to do.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet. What’s this nonsense I hear abou
t you switching assignments with Mike?”

  Tara shifted her phone from one ear to the other. “Yes, I thought it’d be a change covering football—”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Just last week you were going on about the Australian Open or T20 cricket or whatever. Now you’re going off to an obscure village in West Bengal to cover some football tournament? When did this happen?”

  Tara rubbed her forehead. So much was wrong with what Barkha had said that she didn’t know where to start. “It’s not an obscure village, it’s Siliguri, and it’s not just some football tournament, it’s the—”

  “Oh whatever. Why?”

  “I just thought it would be a good change for me.”

  “Why do you need a change?”

  “Just,” Tara said.

  “Tara, what the hell is going on with you? Something happened at the party, didn’t it? You disappeared from there, and since then you’ve been incommunicado.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Really?”

  Tara hesitated. “Really.”

  There was a silence. Then Barkha said in a flat voice, “Fine, then, if you don’t want to tell me, I can’t force it out of you.”

  The connection went dead.

  Tara felt very alone.

  Chapter 21

  The letters swirled before Sameen’s eyes, making no sense whatsoever. She exhaled loudly and slammed her pencil down on the proofs she had been marking. Sameen had been reading the same paragraph since she’d sat down at her desk, but still had no idea what it said.

  She ran her fingers through her hair and groaned softly. This wasn’t working. She opened her drawer and stuffed the proofs inside. Picking up her bag, she called to her assistant that she was leaving, and walked out of the office.

  The sharp, cold air hit her face as she exited the building. She exhaled loudly, making a little white puff. She walked without really thinking where she was going. Her high-heeled boots were not conducive to walking, but she barely noticed the discomfort. She went on, one foot doggedly in front of the other.