CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Meena walked alongside Sam’s friends Ava, Dinus, Luis, and Xenia as they wound their way through the North End after a victorious escape room adventure. The narrow streets intersected with each other without rhyme or reason. The buildings all touched, and all housed apartments on top, small restaurants at street level. Even on a crisp mid-November evening, the odor of seafood fried in garlic lingered in the air.
Two hours trapped in a room full of puzzles wasn’t something Meena had thought she would enjoy. Surprisingly, it had been fun. Sam’s friends had all gone to MIT, so she’d puffed out her chest a little when she’d solved the final puzzle to unlock the faux prison. They’d all surrounded her in a group hug she’d strained against. She wasn’t used to casual hugs from people she’d just met. In her travels she respected and took part in cultural norms like double cheek kisses in Europe and bowing in Asian countries. And hey, this was the American way to celebrate a win, right? What was the harm?
They walked through the North End to go to the Bell in Hand, an old pub around the corner from the famous Union Oyster House.
The bar was quiet for a Sunday evening. It was entirely made up of wood, from the floor to the tables to the bar. A few people stood around in the open floor space. Ava passed them and grabbed a tall table along the windows, and half the group went to the bar to get drinks. Once they’d settled around the table, they rehashed the game, bragged about solving the hard puzzles, teased each other for missing the easy ones. Their rhythm was based on familiarity. Meena wished she had her camera with her. No. She would just be. That was her new thing. No camera, no work, no thinking. Just living in the moment.
“Where are you off to next?” Luis asked Meena.
“London.”
“Or you could stick around for a while.” Sam shrugged.
His face was open and earnest. He meant it. “My work isn’t suited for that.” What she really wanted him to understand was that she wasn’t the type to stay in one place, not in a forever sort of way. Even if she didn’t sell the apartment, if she made it her US base, she wouldn’t really live there. Not in the way most people lived in a place.
Ava jumped into the conversation. “You should definitely stay. Boston over the holidays is amazing. Skating on the Frog Pond. The tree lighting at Faneuil Hall. The Santa Speedo Run. The Holiday Pops at Symphony Hall. The library and Copley Square decorations.”
“She gets the idea,” Xenia said. “You don’t have to be a real-life version of the Boston events website.”
“Pshaw.” Ava waved her hand. “I know more about secret Boston than you will ever find on the internet.”
“I make cookie tins for everyone,” Dinus boasted. “This year, in Meena’s honor, I’ll do cookies from around the world. If you stay, you’ll get a special batch.”
A memory flashed in her mind and cracked open her heart.
Make sure you dunk your mom’s cookies in milk for at least thirty seconds so you don’t break a tooth. The memory was so vivid Meena could hear her dad’s voice, one she hadn’t heard in years.
Jameson Dave, do not fill your daughter’s head with such things. The cookies are meant to be hard. Then her dad would take one and exaggeratedly try to snap it in two. Meena would giggle quietly so as not to hurt her mom’s feelings.
One memory slid into another. She remembered the ice rink and skating while holding her dad’s hand. Every year they would drive to Boston and spend the night in a hotel so they could go to the symphony for the Holiday Pops.
“Meena might want to spend time with her family,” Luis said.
The pain of the past was so sharp Meena clutched the edge of the table with one hand.
Sam put his palm against her back. “OK?”