She was close, maybe a block or two away, when chaos in the form of a tiny puppy upended it all. One minute she was staring at her phone, envelope in hand. The next she was tangled up in a loose leash, and she lost her balance thanks to her heavy backpack and fell to her knees. She winced as she heard her phone hit the concrete. Then the little monster got a hold of her envelope and shook it around in its mouth hard enough for the keys to pop out. Which distracted the fur ball enough to replace the envelope with the key ring as its new chew toy. She reached for it as a brisk gust of October wind sent the envelope flying away from her.
She raced over and stopped the rolling paper with one booted foot, slid it toward her, and lunged left for the leash to keep the puppy from running off with her keys. She teetered in an unnatural warrior pose. “Oh no you don’t.”
The fur ball tilted its head as if curious about her awkward position with one foot on the envelope and her other leg and arm stretched out to keep the dog in place.
“Wally, stop,” a man shouted as he ran toward Meena and the pup. He eyed her awkward stance. “Impressive.”
“Yoga.”
“Namaste.”
“That’s not OK.” People often assumed her identity simply because of her brown skin.
“I’m Indian,” he said, grinning. “I’m allowed.”
Meena handed him the leash and picked up the papers. She found her phone and begged, “Don’t be dead.”
“Talking to inanimate objects could be a sign of injury,” he said. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
Meena let out a frustrated breath. “Doctor?”
“Special effects engineer.” He grinned as he picked up the puppy. “What do you have here, Wally?”
“My keys.”
He tugged them from between Wally’s teeth and stared at them. Meena noticed curiosity on his face. She reached over and took them from him, then wiped them down on her cargo jacket.
“Do you need directions?”
“I’m fine.” She’d been on her own since she was sixteen. Help wasn’t necessary.
“On behalf of Wally,” he said, “I apologize. I let go for one second and he ran off. He’s a work in progress. I hope.”
There was frustration mixed with adoration in his voice as he put the puppy down on the ground but kept a firm grasp on the leash.
Meena didn’t want to return his smile but had to admit that he was effortlessly friendly. An inch or two taller than her five-foot-eight height, he was dressed for fall in an REI parka over jeans. His black hair ruffled in the breeze. Meena would bet he used his dimples to charm himself into and out of whatever he wanted.
Wally ran around her and tangled up his leash in between her legs. Meena lost her balance and grabbed the man’s shoulder. He wrapped his free hand around her and held her steady. “Wally, stop. Heel. Sit.” With his hand still holding her, he unclipped the leash and grabbed the puppy up in his other arm. “We need to work on manners.”
Meena let go and stepped back. “Good luck.” She turned away.
“Wait,” the man called out to her. “If you’re going somewhere nearby, we can walk with you. I live in this neighborhood.”
“I don’t know you,” Meena said.
“Sam Vora,” he offered.
Meena shook her phone. The screen was black, likely a permanent condition. Still, she remembered the map, and she wasn’t directionally challenged. The apartment was one street over. “I’m good.”
“According to the art of conversation, when one person introduces themselves, it’s usually an invitation for the other to do the same,” Sam said.