Falling into Place Page 6

  I don’t care, she told herself. Pain is pain.

  The patterned breathing did help; at least it helped her zone out. She had only a vague recollection of what happened next. She remembered Tara appearing with a security guard. She remembered being helped into the taxi. She remembered putting her head on Tara’s shoulder and feeling safe. Then she shut her eyes.

  Tara sank down in the only available seat in the waiting area of the hospital’s emergency department and leaned back against the wall. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax and give in to the sense of relief she could finally let herself feel.

  As soon as she’d heard Sameen’s voice on the phone, she’d switched to autopilot and had done everything she could to make sure Sameen received help as soon as possible. In the taxi, she’d realized Sameen was in no real danger, though watching her grimace through her pain had been distressing. Tara had hated the fact that she hadn’t been able to do anything to make Sameen feel better. The situation had brought out a fierce protective instinct in her that she hadn’t ever thought she possessed.

  But this wasn’t the time to dwell on all that. She had other matters to take care of.

  Though Sameen’s condition wasn’t serious, Tara needed to let people close to Sameen know. She knew that Rohan had left for some training course abroad, so she called the only other person she knew of in Sameen’s life—her friend Milind. Sameen had said he was a pilot, so Tara hoped he wasn’t away flying a plane to some far-off destination.

  As it turned out, he wasn’t, and he arrived at the hospital, panting, in exactly twenty minutes.

  “What happened?” Milind asked, his eyes wide with worry.

  “She slipped on the stairs. She’s in a lot of pain, so I suspect she might have broken something.”

  “Have the docs seen her?”

  Tara shook her head. “Still in line.”

  Milind went to speak to Sameen in her little green-curtained cubicle, but came out almost immediately. “Seems to be asleep.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty dazed.”

  He plopped down into a seat next to Tara. “Thanks for taking care of her and bringing her here.” Then he looked a bit abashed. “I don’t mean to imply you would have abandoned her, of course.”

  Tara shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I just hope it’s nothing serious.”

  “Yeah.”

  They sat together in tense silence, Tara impatient that they were taking so long to see Sameen. She glanced at Milind. He had a dishevelled air about him, but that could just be because he’d rushed there. His hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it many times, and he had a scar on the bridge of his nose. He was tall, tall enough that he had to fold himself awkwardly in the hospital seat, and thin. He had a rip in the left knee of his jeans that didn’t look as though it had been put there by design. She knew he and Sameen were close, but didn’t know much else about him.

  “I wish we didn’t have to meet in these circumstances,” he said, startling her. It was like he’d read her mind. But then, Tara figured, if she’d been studying him, he had all the more reason to be sizing her up.

  “What? Yeah, I know.”

  A harried nurse rushed towards the cubicle that Sameen was in. “Sameen Siddiqi?” she called, looking at the waiting area.

  “Yes,” Tara and Milind said in tandem, jumping up.

  Two doctors arrived almost immediately to examine Sameen, and things moved quickly from then on. X-rays confirmed Sameen’s ankle had a hairline fracture and she had also bruised her back. Her right leg, from just below her knee, was put in a cast, which she would have to keep on for four weeks. She was also advised rest.

  It was past nine by the time they were discharged. Milind had a car and drove them home. Sameen was groggy, the effect of painkillers this time, and it took a lot of manoeuvring by Tara and Milind to get her up the stairs.

  “Will you help her get into bed while I go and see if there’s anything to eat?” Milind asked Tara, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “Sure.”

  Tara helped Sameen sit at the edge of the bed. With tentative hands she pulled Sameen’s blouse off, making sure her hands didn’t come in contact with Sameen’s body. Eyes averted, she got the T-shirt she’d found hanging behind the door, and helped Sameen get into it. She then looked in the direction of her next task—Sameen’s skirt—wishing Milind was handling the undressing part while she was the one taking care of the food. She somehow managed to get Sameen’s skirt off and help her into track pants, and finally into bed. Then she breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  Milind appeared with a tray that contained a mug of soup and a couple of slices of buttered toast. Sameen moaned about not being hungry, but they managed to coax her into eating one slice and most of the soup. There were more medicines to be given, and when Sameen finally dropped into a deep, undisturbed sleep, Milind and Tara looked at each other with relief and collapsed on the sofa in the living room.

  Tara rubbed her eyes. “Maybe we should order some food,” she said, looking at the time. It was almost eleven.

  “Good idea.” Milind produced a stash of home-delivery menus, and after some calling around, they found a place that delivered pizzas till midnight.

  As they waited for the food, Tara knew they’d have to talk about the situation. Sameen clearly couldn’t be left by herself. At least not tonight.

  “I was thinking,” Milind said, “someone should stay with her tonight.”

  He can’t actually read minds, can he? Tara wondered. “I was thinking the same.”

  “I have a morning flight out tomorrow. I can call and tell them there was an emergency…”

  “No, don’t do that,” said Tara. “I’ll stay with her.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not. I live almost next door, so it’s not a problem.”

  “But you have to go to work too.”

  “Not till late tomorrow. Do you know anyone else who could come and stay while I’m in office? I can come back in the evening.”

  “I can get Ashish to take over tomorrow morning. And I’ll also get him to rally our other friends around.”

  “That’d be great. Don’t worry about food and all—I’ll arrange that. And I’m very close by, so I can look in every evening, maybe even stay if needed.”

  Chapter 10

  When Sameen woke the next morning, her ankle was throbbing again and she felt a painful stiffness in her back. Someone was huddled on the bed next to her, curled up at the very edge. She thought it would be Milind, but when the person shifted and turned, she saw it was Tara.

  “Hey,” Tara said gently.

  “Where’s Milind?”

  “He had to get home—he had an early flight. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I fell down the stairs.” Sameen pulled herself upright gingerly. Her back twinged in protest. “Tara, I’m so sorry for causing all this trouble.”

  Tara sat up too. She was wearing a faded T-shirt and three-quarter pyjamas. She had probably gone home to get some of her stuff.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said.

  “No, really. And I’m really grateful you’re here. And that you stay so near. Because I don’t know what I’d do, with Rohan away and all.”

  “Listen, Milind and I have been working out a system to make sure someone stays with you,” Tara said. “So stop stressing. And, as you say, I live virtually next door.” She stood and stretched. “Now, what would madam like for breakfast?”

  Even though she still had some pain and a lot of discomfort, Sameen found, to her relief, that she could move around by herself. By the time she’d freshened up and Tara had made tea and omelettes for breakfast, Ashish arrived, armed with a stainless-steel multi-tiered tiffin box.

  “I’ve got lunch,” he said, setting it on the table. “And I can s
tay till the evening.”

  “I’ve just broken my foot. I’m not dying,” Sameen protested.

  “Great,” Tara said. “I can be back by seven. Would that be okay for you?”

  “Absolutely,” Ashish replied.

  “Hey, hello?” Sameen waved both hands, slightly irritated. “I said, I’m not dying.”

  “And we’d like to keep it that way,” Ashish said.

  Despite Sameen’s protests, over the next few weeks, her friends adjusted their lives around her. Fortunately, she was relatively mobile and didn’t need help around the house, and thankfully everyone realized she didn’t require twenty-four-hour minding. So she was usually by herself during the day, but every evening one of her other friends came over, and either Milind or Tara always stayed the night.

  They’d also managed to work some sort of arrangement to make sure Sameen had food so she wouldn’t have to cook. “Rather, so you don’t live on instant noodles,” as Milind had put it. On most days, he cooked dinner or Tara brought some over. When he was away on flight duty, Tara was usually around, even if other people dropped by. They also made sure Sameen had breakfast, lunch, and snacks for the next day so she could get as much rest as possible.

  A cleaner came around daily, so that was taken care of. Sameen had talked to her boss the day after the accident, who had agreed to let her work part-time from home till she could return to the office. And, of course, her friends plied her with entertainment—books and DVDs. When Sameen crossed her monthly internet limit streaming TV series, Tara gave her her data card. She still hadn’t got her head around the fact Rohan and Sameen didn’t have a TV. “Who doesn’t have a TV?” she complained to Sameen, who laughed.

  “The good thing about you going away,” Sameen told Rohan on Skype one day, “is that I’ve realized what a fantastic bunch of friends I have, especially Tara. She’s been so wonderful, Ro. I feel like I’ve known her forever.”

  “So you’re not missing me?”

  “Not at all.” Sameen stuck her tongue out at him. She felt sorry for him because he looked so forlorn and helpless. “I have Tara now.” And it was true. She wasn’t just saying it to tease Rohan; imagining her life without Tara these last few weeks was quite impossible.

  Rohan shook his head. “Well, don’t get too attached. I will be back in a week. Got to go now. Say hi to Tara. Love you.”

  Sameen sent him a beating-heart emoji in response via the text message box and logged off. She got to her feet using her crutches and went in search of Tara.

  It was really sweet how Tara always made herself scarce whenever she and Rohan Skyped.

  The weeks passed and Tara was oddly content with their weird little routine. She got no pleasure out of cooking and doing housework generally, but lending a hand around Sameen’s place felt different. Thanks to Rohan’s housekeeping skills, the house was impeccably organized, which helped. And Sameen’s company was invigorating. They watched tonnes and tonnes of TV shows and movies, some good, some extremely questionable, and got into friendly tussles about which stories were interesting and which were rubbish. They talked and talked—about all sorts of things, from the Syrian refugee crisis, Hindu fundamentalism, and Donald Trump, to cricket and PV Sindhu.

  Despite the turn of events that had left Sameen housebound, Tara had to admit she was as happy as could be. Sometimes she felt a stab of guilt thinking that she was using Sameen’s misfortune as an excuse to add excitement to her mundane routine of home, office, home, office, rinse and repeat. But she couldn’t deny that she had never before so looked forward to coming back home in the evenings, and never had such a rapt audience as Sameen as she vented about office politics and the idiocy of her junior colleagues. And never before had evenings spent in front of the TV—well, technically a computer monitor—been so engaging.

  The only awkward moments were when Rohan Skyped. Even though Tara made sure to vanish when that happened, there were times—if she were being completely honest—she resented those twenty minutes or so that she could hear their incoherent mumblings from the other room. She knew she was being unreasonable, but Rohan felt like an intruder in their blissful existence.

  One day, Tara had a brainwave. She came over with a large cardboard box.

  Sameen raised her eyebrows quizzically. “What’s that?”

  “A jigsaw puzzle,” said Tara. “I’m sick of watching stuff. It’s so passive. Let’s put our brains to work.”

  “It’s not passive—we analyse the stuff we watch.”

  “In other words, you rip apart every tiny little plot hole.”

  “And you are too forgiving.”

  “Fine then, no more watching. It’s jigsaw time.”

  Tara placed a stool for Sameen to rest her leg on and cleared the dining table, on which she spread out the jigsaw pieces. It was the massive 1,000-piece Casablanca puzzle she’d never got around to restarting and would clearly take them days to finish.

  “We should watch the movie,” Sameen said.

  “You can watch it when Milind is here,” Tara said firmly.

  Two hours later, Tara revised her opinion. “I think it’s going to take us years to finish this.”

  “Good. That means you have to keep coming around for years.”

  “Why would I not come around?” Tara asked in surprise.

  Sameen pursed her lips. “But, you know, now you’ll have to.” She gave Tara a crooked smile. “And to seal the deal, I suggest we get pizza.”

  “Done.” Tara hoisted herself out of the chair to get her phone, which was charging in the other room. “I’m just glad you’re not sick of me,” she said at the door to the living room, as casually as she could manage. Because the idea Sameen wanted to make sure Tara would keep coming over for years gave her a warm and fuzzy feeling.

  “Sick of you?” Sameen said, her eyes half-closed. “Never. Not until we’ve watched all the TV shows in the world.”

  Tara smiled.

  The pizza came and they set up a British comedy called Miranda to watch with dinner—conveniently forgetting they’d decided to give up TV. But it was hilarious and they laughed so much that their sides ached. The pizza was gone in no time at all and they were still hungry, so Tara ran across to the bakery down the road for muffins.

  It was a chilly night, so they spread a light Jaipuri quilt over their legs, eating their muffins with paper napkins tucked under their chins. When the last episode of Miranda had streamed, they were leaning against each other, exhausted from laughing. Tara looked down at Sameen, whose eyes were almost closed, resting on her shoulder.

  “This was a very nice evening,” Sameen said.

  “It was,” Tara said, smiling down at her.

  Something had been different about today. Something Tara couldn’t quite define, a contentment she couldn’t ever recall having felt before. She reached out and brushed a strand of hair off Sameen’s forehead, her fingers trailing down her cheek for just a moment.

  A fraction of a second later, she realized what she’d done.

  Tara froze. In fact, everything froze, inside her and out. The next half a second was like an eternity, when time almost slowed to a standstill, the earth stopped moving, and everything, absolutely everything, made sense with devastating clarity.

  She wanted much more than to just brush a strand of hair from Sameen’s face. She couldn’t run from it any more—her feelings for Sameen had long since strayed over the line of control that she had been calling friendship. Tara had thought that as long as she called Sameen that—a friend—she would be in control, but she hadn’t banked on meeting someone who would slowly take down her walls brick by brick without her being aware of it.

  The feelings she had been certain she had a tight grip on had only turned out to be fine sand, gradually seeping between her fingers till she was left clutching at air.

  A wave of panic welled up
inside her.

  Sameen remained still, a tranquil smile on her face, her eyes closed. Tara resisted the impulse to jump away. Instead, with deliberate, slow movements, she pushed Sameen upright. “I…er…should clear up.”

  Tara grabbed the napkins and the empty pizza boxes and rushed to the kitchen. She pressed the bottoms of her palms into her eyes.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  “Tara?” Sameen called. “Can you lend a hand with the sheets?”

  “Coming.”

  Tara helped Sameen make the bed in silence. She couldn’t even meet her eyes.

  “Something wrong?” Sameen asked. “You’ve gone very quiet.”

  “No, no. Just remembered something about work.”

  After getting Sameen settled in bed, Tara went into the bathroom and sat on the lid of the toilet, head in her hands.

  She took a deep breath. “Calm down, Tara,” she said. “Relax.”

  There was no need to panic, she told herself as she took a few deep breaths. Nothing had really happened. She had just brushed a strand of hair from Sameen’s face. Hardly inappropriate. No reason to beat herself up or imagine Sameen would ostracize her for it. Sameen was one of her best friends. They had had a good time together, they were comfortable with each other… The panic bubbled again.

  She needed to get out of here. She needed some space, and anyway, the thought of spending the night next to Sameen on her bed, the thought of her rolling over so their arms and legs touched…it was unbearable.

  A sob escaped her. Her hands shaking, she dialled Milind’s number.

  “Hey, sorry to drop this on you so suddenly, but I, er, have a work thing…emergency.” Tara hadn’t expected her voice to be so steady, so calm, so in control. “Could you take over at Sameen’s place? … Yeah, right away … You can? … Oh, thanks, Milind, thanks so much.”