When Devils Sing(30)
“I was looking for the spare car keys,” Neera said quickly, shoving the photo of Ajay into her back pocket, praying Nani didn’t see. But her grandmother’s glistening dark eyes said otherwise. Neera cleared her throat. “I found them.”
An uncomfortable silence lingered between them. Neera shifted on her feet, unsure if she should say something or just go. There were many things not discussed in their lives, and Ajay always sat at the top of that list.
Neera had wondered more than once what his legacy would’ve been like, had his death not been ruled a suicide. He’d had no proper funeral, not in the way of Sikh death, at least. Family members from all over the globe didn’t flock to Carrion to help them mourn. There was no handwashing of his body, or surrounding him with flowers in an open casket. The nearest gurdwara—three hundred miles away—didn’t host his service. There was no formal reading of the Guru Granth Sahib. No langar. No community. No shared grief.
Ajay’s body was merely turned to ashes and given to Kiran in an unmarked box. Neera and her mom took a weekend trip to the Blue Ridge Mountains and found a river on the highest peak. They poured his remains into the rushing water, watched as they disappeared, then drove home.
Neera was no expert on her family’s culture, but she knew death was never meant to be solitary. Whole villages would grieve over the loss of someone in Punjab. Even in the small town her family was from in the UK, Punjabi immigrants from neighboring areas would grieve as a community over those who died.
But Ajay wasn’t given that respect. His death was a scandal, rippling across their extended family scattered around the globe, rivaling that of Neera’s own birth. He was meant to be forgotten because remembering was too painful.
Neera gave herself a mental shake. The most important audition of her life was happening today, and the Singh family tragedies were like quicksand—threatening to pull her under.
“Where are you going?” Nani broke the silence.
Neera hesitated. She’d wasted enough time already, she couldn’t afford to be honest. “I got called into work.”
“Oh?” Nani studied her face. “It is not the weekend.”
“I could really use the extra money,” Neera partially lied. “It’s not like we have much going on here anyway.” She checked the time on her phone. “I’m running late. I’ll see you later.” Before Nani could say anything more, Neera gave her a brief hug and darted out the lobby door.
Only once she was in the Nissan, doors locked, did she dare to look at Ajay’s photo again. She traced his face once more, then froze, her finger lingering on the T-shirt Ajay wore. With spindly, branchlike antlers splayed across his chest, the shirt bore an identical logo to the key chain she’d found in Room 11 the night before.
CHAPTER 10SAM
Sam yawned into her elbow as she worked on the giant box of unrolled silverware that sat before her, prepping for the evening’s service at the Tavern Bar & Restaurant. Not even a night spent in the hospital could get her out of work. Not that it mattered; she needed the money more than she needed to rest.
One day, things will be different. It was the promise Sam repeated to herself in moments like this. More and more lately, it seemed.
Someone kicked the legs of her chair. “Sam, you listenin’ to me?”
Sam startled. Her boss, Jason, was staring down at her. “Huh?”
“Did you get a concussion in that car accident or what?” He snapped his fingers near her face. “Pick up the pace.”
“I’m fine, just tired,” Sam said, yawning again. “Thanks for your concern, though.”
Jason checked his watch. “It’s gon’ be a busy week around here. Can’t afford to dick around.” His pocket began to vibrate. Jason answered his phone, disappearing into the private lounge on the other end of the restaurant.
Sam scowled at his retreating back. She then fell into the quiet, methodical task of rolling silverware, mind drifting. Rent was due in less than a week and the only thing standing between her and homelessness was the upcoming day’s tips. A totaled car and shitty insurance coverage didn’t help anything, either.
Time dripped by as Sam struggled to finish another box of silverware. Her wrist was still messed up and splinted from before the accident. The stressors just kept adding up. Eventually her body was going to give out beneath the pressure.
Sam pulled out her phone, checking to see if she had any missed calls or texts. She didn’t want to admit to herself she was hoping to hear from Dawson, but there was only radio silence.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the Tavern’s front door swung open, revealing a flustered Neera Singh rushing inside.
Neera greeted her with a smile, a little breathless. “Please tell me Jason’s still around.”
“Yeah, he just took a call in the back.” Sam noticed the guitar case slung over her shoulder. “Wait, does this mean you scored the audition?”
Nodding sheepishly, Neera said, “My mom pulled through.”
“No fucking way,” Sam yelled, nearly leaping up from the chair in excitement. If she was the hugging type, she would’ve embraced Neera, but she held back. Touch had always been a complicated longing for Sam, despite how much she wished otherwise. It didn’t help that being in Neera’s presence turned that reluctant wanting into a desperate ache. “Jason’s not gonna know what to do with himself. I’d bet he’s never heard real good music a day in his life.”