Falling into Place Page 9

  They’d also kept each other at arm’s length from their respective families because too much socializing would swiftly lead to questions about weddings, something neither of them was ready for.

  “So, what? You want me to move out for ten days?” Sameen asked. “I can go stay with Milind.”

  “Hell, no. Then I’ll have to explain to them that you live with two men.”

  “Hello, they’re a couple.”

  But Rohan’s look said it all, and Sameen held up a placating hand. “All right, all right. Why do we have to tell them who I’m staying with, though? It’s not like they’re coming to do a room inspection.”

  “You have a point.” Rohan sat beside her. “So, would you?”

  “It’s not as simple as me packing a bag and going over. We’ll have to remove all traces of my living here. Like toothbrush, make-up, all my clothes… Oh shit, you’ll have to intercept my mail.”

  He scratched his chin. “You’re right. We have to plan this carefully. You’ll have to hide those little boxes, for instance.” He waved a hand at a collection of lacquer boxes with miniature art on them. “My parents will never believe that I would have stuff like that.”

  “But they’ll believe you have three kinds of non-stick cookware?”

  “Oh, the books. Please hide your Mills and Boons.”

  “No way!”

  “What if they think I read them?”

  “I’m having to move out of my own house, so you can handle a few MBs.” Sameen pursed her lips, which meant that was the end of that discussion.

  She flounced off into the kitchen and filled the kettle for some tea. Rohan was right. It was always going to be a problem if any one of their parents ever decided to come for a visit—and it was something they’d discussed before. But even then, Sameen felt irritated. She hated packing. Unpacking was even worse.

  And ten days of not seeing Tara.

  That thought took her unawares. Somehow, their daily conversations and commutes had become part of Sameen’s routine. Without Tara, her day was incomplete.

  She sighed as she took out mugs and put in sugar and teabags. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It’ll give me a chance to hang out with Milind.

  But that thought didn’t bring her any joy. In fact, it just underscored how much more she’d miss Tara. Milind was great, but he was no Tara. Sameen wondered what it was about her that made everything and everyone fade in comparison, sometimes even Rohan. She wished they could continue meeting every day. Perhaps she should talk to Tara to figure out a plan.

  Tara joined the others in staring at the pile of flattened cardboard cartons. “You’re moving?”

  Her tone was incredulous, but the lack of any urgency from Sameen, Rohan, and Milind suggested that something else was up. Also, there was Sameen—with a large hanky around her hair and brandishing, for unspecified reasons, a feather duster, like one of those women from the retro magazine ads for household goods. Tara suppressed a smile at how charming she looked.

  “Temporarily,” Sameen said breezily. “I’m going to pretend I don’t live here while Rohan’s parents are visiting.”

  “Ah, I see.” Relief washed over Tara. She took out her phone. “I have to take a photo of you looking like this.”

  Sameen waved the duster at her and struck up a pose. Tara laughed. “This is going on my Instagram. So where are you going to live?”

  “At my place,” Milind said.

  “Oh.” Tara’s heart fell at the thought of Sameen being more than a two-minute walk away. “For how long?”

  “Ten days,” Sameen said, grimacing. She stuck out her lower lip in exaggeration. “Who’s going to pick me up from office now and feed me momos?”

  “Not me,” Milind put in. “You can get your own momos.”

  “Wait a minute.” Tara looked around at all of them. “Why don’t you come and stay with me, Sameen?”

  Rohan, who was making boxes from the flat packs, stopped. “Actually, that’s a really good idea. It’ll be so much easier—we could just carry the stuff across. Are you sure it’s not a problem, Tara? It’s ten days.”

  “Of course not. My mother’s a little crazy sometimes, but Sameen knows that.”

  “Oh, come on, Chhaya’s lovely.” Sameen gave Tara a one-armed hug and left her arm around her. “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Tara could feel the warmth of Sameen’s hand through her T-shirt and the way her arm curved across her back. When Sameen took her arm away, Tara’s skin still tingled. Stop it! Tara told herself sternly. She felt warm, much warmer than the cool evening warranted, and her heart beat just that bit faster.

  That was when she realized she’d made a big mistake. How would she live with Sameen under the same roof for so many days? How would she go to sleep knowing that Sameen was in the next room? How would she share her bathroom with Sameen without imagining her…er… Let’s not go there!

  She was already losing her mind and Sameen hadn’t even moved in yet.

  Could she rescind the offer? No, that would just seem strange. There was nothing she could do about it now.

  With a start, she noticed that Milind was looking at her with his head cocked to one side, eyes questioning. Tara’s face burned. She blinked and looked away.

  “Well?” asked Milind.

  “Oh, er…what?”

  “I asked if it would be okay to take a few things over tonight. Since I have my car.”

  “R-right, sure. I’ll just call Mama and give her a heads-up.”

  “What are you going to tell her?” Rohan sounded worried.

  Sameen gave him a little push. “The truth, silly.”

  “But…”

  “Oh, she’ll be fine with it, I know she will,” Tara said.

  “Cool.” Rohan rubbed his hands together. He seemed relieved. “Thanks, Tara.”

  “You’re very welcome. So…we have, what, three days before they arrive? What do we need to do?”

  Sameen picked up her phone from the table and called up a list she’d made. She read it out to Tara. “Can you think of anything else?”

  Tara gave it a thought. “Well, you’ll have to tell your cleaning person to not ask pointed questions.”

  Rohan blanched. “Shit!” He sat down heavily.

  “Relax,” Milind said, slapping his back. “We have three days. We’ll figure it all out.”

  Tara caught Sameen’s eye and gave her a half-smile. Sameen smiled back. “We shall have lots of fun, won’t we?”

  “We shall have to find something else to binge-watch,” Tara said. A frisson of anxiety surged through her.

  Ten whole days, just her and Sameen.

  She was so screwed.

  Chapter 15

  Barkha and her husband Kunal lived in a beautiful two-storey house, a refurbished colonial bungalow, with a spacious lawn bordered with flowerbeds, in Jangpura Extension. The perimeter wall was densely covered with creepers, making it impossible to tell what lay beneath. A gulmohar tree stood stoutly at the corner, which doubtless covered the lawn—and the neighbours’—with orange blossoms during summer.

  “It was nice of Barkha to invite me,” Sameen said, hooking her arm around Tara’s as they headed towards the door.

  “I would have brought you even if she hadn’t.” Tara slipped her arm out of Sameen’s as she reached for the door. “After all, I couldn’t leave my guest alone the very first night, could I? What with Mama deciding on her last-minute trip too.”

  There must have been about a hundred guests inside, with black-and-white-clad servers weaving between them, carting drinks and snacks around. Tall French doors from the living room led to a shaded patio that stepped down to the lawn. The doors had been thrown open and the party had spilled outside. Fairy lights were strung on bushes, looking like little stars shining out of the darkness.


  “Wow,” Sameen said as Tara led her inside. “What does Kunal do?”

  “He owns a couple of fancy restaurants. Swanky house, isn’t it? Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  Kunal, Tara had told her, had a reputation for throwing blowout parties, so Sameen was rather mystified to be introduced to a small, shy man, nervously looking around from behind a pair of glasses. He didn’t say much, either, just thanked them for coming and then scurried off. The next time Sameen saw him, he was behind the bar, shaking a cocktail for someone.

  “He’s a bit of a contradiction.” Tara’s voice in her ear made her jump.

  “Er…what?”

  Tara grinned. “I noticed you’ve been watching him and you look a bit puzzled. He’s incredibly funny and friendly if you meet him one-on-one, but he seems to go into his shell in a crowd. But he loves to play host.”

  Barkha floated by, outfitted in a body-hugging, shimmering, black-and-silver salwar suit, looking like something out of a fashion magazine. Tara caught her arm and pulled her over. “You look stunning.”

  Barkha patted the carefully arranged pile of glittering ringlets at the side of her head, and gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I do, don’t I? Hi, Sameen, thanks for coming.”

  “Thanks for inviting me.” Sameen handed her a small gift-wrapped box. “And congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” she said graciously. “Ten years definitely deserves some congratulations, no?”

  “Ten years?” Sameen asked. “You must have married when you were…what, thirteen?”

  “Ha ha, flatterer.” Barkha gave her arm a friendly slap. “You’re welcome back here anytime.” She winked at Sameen and melted away into the crowd.

  “They married straight out of college,” said Tara. “Both twenty-one. If I had a rupee for all the lying and covering I did for her while they were romancing,” she sighed, “I’d probably have a place as grand as this one.”

  A large group from Tara and Barkha’s work swept up and pulled Tara away with them. Sameen wandered around the room, admiring the decor and the expensive artwork on the walls. She walked out into the hall and studied the wall of photos—all in black wooden frames, arranged in a group, like a collage. They were all of Barkha and Kunal, with families, with friends, on holidays. She was surprised to see baby photos too, Barkha and Kunal with growing kids, the latest showing them to be around six or seven. She made a note to ask Tara about them—she hadn’t known Barkha had children.

  Somewhat bored, Sameen walked to the French doors and stepped outside. A server came by with a tray of wine, and she got rid of her empty glass and picked up another white wine. It was a cool December evening. Winter had yet to set in properly, and being outside was still pleasant. She sat on a wrought-iron bench on the patio. Another server appeared with mushroom-and-cheese quiches, and Sameen snagged a few.

  She spotted Tara and Barkha with the group from their office out on the lawn. Barkha was talking and gesturing, while the others were laughing at whatever story she was telling. Tara smacked Barkha’s shoulder playfully, then threw her head back and laughed, the sound carrying to Sameen. She smiled. Seeing Tara let her hair down for a change was nice—she was usually so intense.

  Tara had on a simple brown tussar silk kurta with black piping along the neck and sleeves, paired with a rich maroon churidar. A maroon dupatta speckled with silvery bits hung over one shoulder. She was also wearing the silver leaf earrings they had bought together at the Cottage Emporium. A small pendant with a blood-red stone on a chain hung in the hollow of her neck. The light fell on Tara’s hair, making it shine like it was polished. She brushed a strand from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Her finger was tapping restlessly on the glass she held with both hands. Her face was in shadow, but Sameen pictured it as being flushed and happy. The strand of hair she had brushed away fell loose again. Sameen imagined brushing it gently back behind her ear again. She could almost feel the warmth of Tara’s skin. Her fingertips tingled, a quiver passing down her whole body.

  She jumped when a hoarse voice spoke next to her. “Madam, mutton shami kabab?” It was only one of the penguin-suited servers. She shook her head and he went away. When she turned back to where Tara had been, she was gone.

  Sameen leaned back against the bench, overcome by a peculiar sense of melancholy tinged with a sort of happy excitement. She couldn’t understand it—she wasn’t sad, but tears filled her eyes. Yet she felt so happy that her heart seemed too big for her chest.

  Tara piled half a dozen fish fingers on a paper napkin and shouldered through the crowd, smiling and nodding at familiar faces. She had seen Sameen sitting on the bench outside, looking rather out of place, and had felt a twinge of guilt. Sameen was still there, sipping from a glass of wine.

  “Fish fingers, madam?” she said in an imitation of the servers.

  Sameen smiled. “There you are.”

  Tara plopped down next to her. “Sorry for abandoning you.”

  “Don’t be. I’m okay.”

  “I forgot you don’t know anyone.”

  “Yes, but you know everyone, so you shouldn’t have to hang out with me.”

  “Oh, shut up and eat your fish fingers. Wait, hang on to these, I want to get a drink. You want something?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  Kunal, who was playing bartender as usual to get out of heavy-duty socializing, recommended a new single-malt whisky he’d just acquired. “Just for you,” he said, shooting her a conspiratorial look as he poured a generous measure over ice. “How’s your friend?”

  “Tucking into snacks.”

  Indeed, by the time Tara got back, Sameen had polished off all the fish fingers. “Sorry—I was hungry. Shall I get you more?”

  “It’s okay,” Tara said, laughing. “We’ll just intercept the waiter when he goes by. Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” Sameen raised her glass and they clinked them together. “You know, in Germany—or is it France?—they say you must look into each other’s eyes while toasting or…”

  “Or what?” Tara asked.

  “Erm, it’s seven years of bad sex.”

  “Oh.” Tara didn’t know what else to say. She was disconcerted to find that her face was growing warm. Small mercies for being too dark to blush. She forced a laugh. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we? Let’s toast again.”

  They did so, giggling like teenagers. But Tara wondered what good it would do her. It wasn’t like women were lining up at her bedroom door.

  Servers passed with an assortment of snacks, which they tucked into with abandon. Someone turned up the music inside, and Tara could almost feel the walls shaking.

  “Is your purse vibrating?” Tara pointed out after a bit.

  Sameen scrabbled about in her purse that was lying between them and retrieved her phone. Rohan’s grinning face, wearing a woollen hat with two braids, was lit up on the screen. The missed-call icon was also visible at the top. Sameen answered, putting a finger in her other ear. “Hi, Ro, what’s up? … What? I can’t hear you. It’s too noisy.”

  Tara tapped her shoulder and beckoned her to follow. She led Sameen around the side of the house to the back, where the noise dropped to a low hubbub of voices and the gentle thrum of bass.

  “Yes, I can hear now. What’s up?” Sameen asked. She listened for a couple of seconds and her face moulded into a frown.

  “At Barkha’s anniversary party … Tara’s friend. I told you … Yeah, sorry, didn’t hear your calls. Is everything okay?”

  From the way Sameen tensed, Tara could tell this wasn’t a happy conversation. She gestured to Sameen that she was going back to the house and retreated, as Sameen said, “You can’t make last-minute plans and expect me…”

  Tara ran the last few steps around the corner so she didn’t hear what Rohan had expected Sameen to do. She waited for a few minutes and, when Sameen didn
’t turn up, she ventured back to see if she was okay.

  Sameen was off the phone, sitting on a stone bench by the wall. She leaned forward, her head in her hands.

  “Hey,” Tara called. “Everything all right?”

  Sameen looked up. “Yeah, yeah, just dandy,” she said with a sigh, moving over to let Tara sit next to her. “Apparently, Rohan made plans to go out for dinner with his parents and said I would join them, and now he’s pissed because I can’t.”

  “But he knew you were coming here with me.”

  “Yeah, but he forgot.”

  “Why are you upset? He’s the one who mixed up the dates.”

  “I know, just…”

  “Just what?”

  “He…he seemed really tense. I don’t know why. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.” She caught Tara’s hand. “Tara, I’m so afraid that…that…”

  Sameen’s hand was chilled. Tara put her other hand on top of hers and held tight. “What are you afraid of, Sameen?” she asked gently.

  “That it’s just like we thought. That his parents are here to check me out, as wife material, you know.”

  A numbing sense of disappointment settled within Tara. She swallowed. “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “No, yes, I don’t know! I don’t want to think of getting married right now.” She looked around, then laughed softly. “What an irony, talking about all this here.”

  Tara smiled. “Yeah. But you and Rohan… I thought you were serious.”

  “We are, but we’re also on the same page about not getting married for a few years. At least I thought we were.”

  Tara didn’t respond. What would it be like if Sameen did marry Rohan? The thought opened a raw wound inside her. She couldn’t help it. She knew Sameen was her friend—her straight friend—but still.

  Chapter 16

  Tara rolled her chair to Barkha’s cubicle and they sat, side by side, to have their lunch.

  “Egg curry and rice today, yum.” Barkha waved to the lunch boy. “Vivek, do you have any green chillies? Oh, thank you.”