A fortress of sand.
The boxes closed and stacked in the corner of the dining room, Meena sat on the sofa surrounded by someone else’s possessions. No matter how much she got rid of, there was still more of Neha here. She’d been trying to make this place her own, yet she’d been taking her time, getting distracted. She’d chosen to stay but hadn’t made this her home. Reading magazines, getting rid of things, it was all so haphazard.
She didn’t want tragedy to be the end place on the map of her life. She wanted to redraw it. A Buddhist monk had once told her that all that exists is impermanent. Meena realized that she’d approached her adult life as if it were fixed, even as change happened all around her.
The anger had been let out. A sense of control seeped in. She could breathe again. Focus.
Meena made one more trip outside. The early sunset meant it looked like midnight even though it was barely seven. With a pizza box in hand, she knocked on Sam’s door. She was going to put things back together, focus on what she had instead of what she didn’t.
He opened it.
“It didn’t feel right to walk in.” She locked her knees to stop her feet from shuffling.
“Are you coming in?” He stepped back, waited for her to decide.
“Are you busy or in the middle of something?” Meena let herself in.
“Wally and I were in the backyard,” he said. “How are you doing?”
She held up the box. “New York Pizza.”
“On Mass Ave.?”
She nodded. “It doesn’t taste anything like a Manhattan slice, but it’s not bad.”
He grabbed two plates from the kitchen and brought them to the small table in the nook between the living room and hallway. “Want something to drink?”
“Water is fine.” She needed something to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She sat and opened the box. The tangy smell of sauce infused the air. “Did Wally have his dinner?” The dog was snoozing in his crate with the door open.
“Yup.” Sam sat across from her. “He’s had a lot of playtime today.”
They ate in silence for a minute. “I was, I don’t know . . . I was a mess yesterday. Thank you for being there.”
He wiped his mouth with a paper towel and leaned back in his chair. “That’s what a relationship is, to support one another.”
Her heart expanded. “Is that what this is?”
“Are we on different pages?”
She shook her head. “It’s just that the label is a first for me. I’m not sure I can live up to it.”
“We can figure it out as we go along.”
She gave him a lopsided smile. “I’ve passed up so many opportunities to have friends, have relationships.” She chewed on a bite. “I want people in my life.” There. She’d said it out loud. “I want that continuity, where every conversation isn’t the first conversation. Inside jokes, memories that you revisit years, decades from now.” She shrugged. “If there’s a handbook on how to do that, I’d read it cover to cover.”
“Why now?”
“This place, this building. You,” Meena said.
He reached out his hand, put it over hers, and squeezed.
Instead of blinking back the emotion in her eyes, she let the tears fall. “You deserve someone better.”
He smiled. “So do you.”
She nodded. Accepting that it was within her control. She only had to reach for it, not let fear of loss drive her actions. The butterflies fled, and her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything all day. With her hand clasped in his, she picked up a slice with her other hand. “Even not-great pizza is good.”