“You loved someone you disliked?”
Uma laughed. “People do it all the time. It’s called family.”
“Well, I don’t have one of those.”
Meena saw Uma assessing her. “Whose fault is that?”
Meena sucked her teeth. Possibly yours. Neha’s. She needed to lash out.
“You should talk through whatever’s making you so mad.” Uma crossed her arms. “Clearly you’ve bottled up a lot, and it’s showing.”
“Are you volunteering?”
Uma laughed. “I don’t have that kind of time.”
“Right,” Meena said. “Whatever you can spare is reserved for your friends.”
Uma raised her brow. “Yes. It is.”
“You tell each other everything, right? No secrets.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Uma said. “Fifty-plus years of friendship is bound to have some things that aren’t shared.”
“How philosophical.”
“What’s got you so mad?”
Meena ignored her. Ground her teeth.
“My advice? Go find a bartender,” Uma said. “Get whatever’s going on in there out.”
Meena let loose a bitter laugh. “It’s not that simple.”
Uma snorted. “It’s as hard as you want to make it, and it seems you don’t want easy.”
“You think you have me figured out.”
Uma stacked more books from the floor on the coffee table. “You’re not complicated.” She looked directly at Meena. “You don’t trust anyone. It’s a way of protecting yourself. I’m not a therapist, so I don’t claim to know why, but once you find a place to land, maybe try a little vulnerability. Your fortress is made of sand, and it looks like it’s collapsing.”
Hurt warred with anger at the truth. “You’re full of pithy advice. What’s made you so wise?”
“Age.”
“And regrets?”
“I wouldn’t want a life without a few mistakes.”
“Even at the expense of others?”
Uma gave her a look. “If you’re trying to say something, get it out.”
Meena retreated. Not to protect Uma; she didn’t want to be the first to speak the truth. If Uma was her biological mother, Meena didn’t want the older woman to see the neediness in her face. “As you can see, I’m busy. Close the door on your way out.”
“The guy across the hall,” Uma said. “He’s solid. And strong. If you decide to land there, it’ll be the smartest thing you can do.”
Meena wrapped her arms around herself. Exhausted, she was ready to collapse. “Whatever’s between Sam and me is not your concern.”
“Then you haven’t learned a single thing about the Engineer’s House.” Uma opened the door.
Meena’s knees gave out, and she fell into a pile of books. She curled her legs in and leaned her head on her knees. She was too tired to think or feel. Numb, she stayed in that position, surrounded by the chaos of Neha’s beloved wreckage.
Meena spent the rest of the day cleaning up the aftermath of her breakdown. She’d been tempted to find a bartender, but instead she’d gone to the liquor store for more boxes. She didn’t want to talk or think. The monotony of stacking books, packing boxes, taping them up, stacking them in the corner, that was what would help her recover.