“The aunties must miss her.”
Sam gave a short laugh. “Probably. They had their challenges.”
“Neha wasn’t part of their trio?”
“Not like they are to each other, no.”
They walked through the lush colors of the Public Garden and over the footbridge. As dusk gave way to night, Boston’s skyline gleamed through the yellowing weeping willows. Leaves crunched under her boots. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket. The brisk air was cool and comforting on her face.
“This used to be the world’s shortest functioning suspension bridge, until the 1920s,” Sam pointed out.
“Interesting.”
“I didn’t say that to impress you. A few friends and I belong to a pub trivia league, and I know a lot of random facts.”
“This isn’t something you learned on your annual walk of the Freedom Trail?”
He laughed. “I will have you know that we aren’t currently on it. If you look down and see red lines, that’s the marker.”
“I know.” Meena recalled the long bus rides as a kid. “We used to come to Boston on history school trips.”
“I remember those,” Sam said. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been on the USS Constitution.”
“And the Bunker Hill Monument.”
“In all your travels, what’s been your favorite place?” Sam asked.
They crossed over from the Public Garden and headed into Boston Common. Meena thought about his question. “That’s tough to answer. It depends.”
“On?”
Meena looked over at the white gazebo as the footpath sloped up. “The assignment. I love the wildness of Scotland, the people of Vietnam, the expansiveness of Alaska. There’s always something about a place.”
“What about just to be, to go on vacation?”
“I’ve never taken one of those.”
They crossed Beacon Street and headed up Beacon Hill. The architecture changed. The streets became narrower, the row houses smaller. The streetlamps gave the area a Victorian feel. She could almost hear horses clomping through the street.
“Why not?”
Meena shrugged. “I guess since I’m always on the road, it never occurred to me.”
Sam sighed. “That makes sense, just extend time wherever you are to explore or relax.”
Meena let him assume. Relaxing wasn’t something she did well. That was why she meditated. She couldn’t imagine lying on the beaches in Indonesia without purpose. The next thing was always waiting. Maybe that was all she needed. A long vacation. Except she couldn’t get away from her thoughts. “What about you? Your favorite place?”
“I like London,” he said. “I spent a couple of years there working. I traveled a lot when I was based there. Spain, Belgium, Sweden.”
“I’m based there—in London,” Meena said. “Well. Sort of. I was in Seoul before that.”
“Where’s home?”
“I don’t have one.” It was a reflex answer. The truth, that her home had exploded when she was a teenager, wasn’t something people responded well to.
“I can’t imagine what that would be like,” Sam said. “I need a home. One place. I like knowing my neighborhood. The bakery, the restaurants where I’ve eaten so often they don’t even hand me a menu. I like the change of seasons outside of my window. The daily routine, the steadiness.”