Her head was full in a good way as the prosecco bubbles traveled throughout her body and gave her shimmery warmth on the inside. She walked over the bridge back to Battersea behind a couple who were arm in arm, and in that moment, though she was wistful, she didn’t feel as alone as she normally did. She grabbed her phone from her coat and scrolled down to Sam’s name.
She didn’t quite hit the call button. What was there to say? She could ask after Wally, or just say hi. But it was awkward. Although, knowing Sam, he would take it in stride. Silly. They’d been neighbors for a few weeks, friends. Nothing more.
Meena tucked the phone back in her pocket and continued on her way.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Meena clasped her hands in front of her as the toned, slim woman on the television said, “Namaste.” She exhaled as Zoe turned off the yoga class.
I’m Indian. I’m allowed. It was one of the first things Sam had said to her. To know something that basic—she’d never realized what a luxury that was. Most people took it for granted.
“I needed that.” Zoe patted her face with a towel. “A good start to dry January.”
“Every year . . . ,” Meena began.
“I know, I never make it to the end of January.” Zoe cut her off. “I lack discipline, but one of these times, I will finish the whole month. The fridge is stocked with veggies and fish, brown rice is the only carb in the house. I’ve got plenty of herbal tea. No caffeine. No alcohol. No food that’s not on the list. And no fun.”
Meena scooched back on the yoga mat to lean against the navy couch. “At least you have company with Fiona and Paul doing the same.”
“And we made a pact to stay away from Bernie, who will always order all the things we cannot eat,” Zoe said. “I swear Bernie tests us to see which one will break first.”
“I won’t do that to you.” Meena rolled her shoulders. “I’ll even make us salads for lunch.”
“Today,” Zoe said. “Three days into the cleanse. But you leave tomorrow—then what?”
“You’ll be fine.”
“What happens after you go to Asia? Where to then?”
“Once I finish up in Seoul, I’m going to hang around there and see if I can snag a couple more assignments in South Korea.” Meena picked at a loose thread on her black yoga pants. “To be honest, I’m not very excited about going back on the road.”
Zoe sat up and crossed her arms around her bent knees. Her short, curly blonde hair had fallen out of the clip during their yoga session. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.” Meena felt the tension she’d just released creep back in. “This is what I do, right? It’s my career. My life. I want to go to these places, tell these stories.”
“Makes sense,” Zoe said. “You’ve been at this since we graduated college. You’ve been able to make it work.”
“But?”
“We’re in our thirties now. It’s OK to assess if this is what you want for the next ten years and beyond.”
“I’ve never thought that far ahead.” She had adopted the Buddhist philosophy of staying in the present.
“That’s fine. But don’t you worry that if you don’t think about it, you might wind up somewhere you didn’t want to be in twenty years?”
Meena smiled at her friend. “I’ll always have my camera and a way to put food on my table. That’s enough.”
“I know this is a touchy thing for you,” Zoe said. “But you did tell me about why you thought that woman left you the apartment.”