“I see.” Meena clutched the envelope. Neha’s only heir was a male cousin. Dead.
“You don’t really want to live here. This, the redecorating, it’s temporary,” Sabina said. “You’re happy moving from place to place. Look at the offer. This is Back Bay, Boston. This apartment has been appraised for two point seven million dollars. You can go anywhere for that, do anything. Leave this all behind and get back to the life you left.”
Meena understood what was left unspoken. She wasn’t welcome here. She was an outsider. This time not by choice. Her eyes burned. She cleared her throat. “I see.”
“Do you?”
Meena looked closely at Sabina and knew. She was staring into familiar eyes. Her own. Meena was adept at letting someone see or not see through her eyes. Sabina was letting her see. A woman’s burden. Neha’s aunt’s son. It all fell into place.
Bile choked her. “That’s not the real reason, is it?”
Sabina crossed her arms. “It is the only reason I can give.”
Meena shook her head. “You won’t even speak the words.”
Sabina’s hands clamped together.
“Are you that skilled that you can forget the first time you gave birth?” Meena asked. “Pretend I don’t exist?”
“Aren’t you the one who claims to not live in the past?” Sabina said.
Meena stopped herself from fidgeting on the sofa. The cushion was still stiff from being so new, but it supported her when her legs couldn’t. “I guess avoidance is genetic.”
Sabina snapped her eyes to Meena.
“How long have you known?” Meena wanted it all laid bare. She waited. Let silence do the work.
“I suspected.” Sabina clasped her hands together. “I knew Neha. In my background check I found the write-up of your parents’ death. I still could not be sure until you said you were adopted. The final confirmation was when you told me your birthday.”
“Some dates are unforgettable,” Meena said. “It’s March eighth for me. The day I lost my family. Did you know my name?”
Sabina shook her head. “I never knew it. I . . . never considered you mine. Not even when I was pregnant. I pushed you out and others took you away.”
“You didn’t want to hold me?”
“Or see your face. I only knew you were a girl because the doctor who delivered you said it aloud in the room.”
All adoptions start with a loss.
“I made a choice to carry the pregnancy to term.” Sabina rolled back her shoulders. “That was all. I never let you be real to me. You were someone else’s, my body was only an incubator, my punishment for breaking the rules. Something I regret to this day.”
Meena closed her eyes as she absorbed each word. This was a different ache from the pain and loss she’d suffered in the past. This was personal and impersonal. They sat side by side. One had been born from the other, but they had no connection beyond a casual acquaintance. Two spoons of sugar in her tea. The one time Sabina had braided Meena’s hair. Small acts that could have been meaningful had they known who they were to each other.
Sabina spelled it out. “You can understand now why it is better if you go.”
The anger chafed. “I guess you don’t want me to give you a card on Mother’s Day?”
“I built my life in the shape it was meant to have. I have children, a husband.”
“Yes,” Meena whispered. “A legacy. You also have friends.”
“They don’t know.”