“She liked to collect anything and everything,” Sam said. “She would ask me to take her to flea markets or go antiquing in Vermont.”
“Then she shoved it in every inch of empty space.”
He nodded.
They were getting back to their easiness. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
He gave her a half smile. “I heard a crash and a scream.”
“And like double-oh seven, you ran in here.”
He grinned. “You need to watch a Bond movie before you make a comparison.”
Maybe we could watch one together, she wanted to say. Instead she nodded to the note. “Seriously, you read it. You knew her; it might make more sense.”
He took the page and read it out loud.
“‘Friend as a noun has five definitions, as a transitive verb, two. If I were to apply one to designate my relationship with the women in this building, I would use “one who is not hostile.” The one I would apply to Sabina, Uma, and Tanvi, “one attached to another by affection or esteem.” They have the bond from being born within months of each other. Despite their differences, they care for each other. Tighter than sisters, they often say.
“‘Of course, I know that one of them has a secret. Shared only with me. Not by choice but by circumstance. Such a secret can destroy the bond they believe is impenetrable.
“‘I do wish to be there for the fallout when all is revealed. I wonder if you resemble her. I hope for your sake you do not take after my cousin. He was quite unattractive in his personality.’”
Meena moved over to the couch, her mouth agape—with saying and not saying things. She closed her eyes and asked Sam to read the note again, then read it herself.
“I don’t understand,” Sam said.
She limped to her jacket, not caring about the blood dripping from the cut on her heel, and grabbed the wooden elephant. She’d kept it in the jacket pocket as a talisman of sorts. She took it out and unsnapped the latch as she’d done a dozen times since discovering it and took out the note.
She didn’t watch him as he read it, instead focusing on the words in the new note. Friend. Secret. Resemble. Meena was so frustrated she wanted to throw the elephant in her hand, smash it against a wall, watch it shatter in fragments near the swept-up shards of the broken lamp. The rising anger felt right. She rarely lost control of her emotions, rarely allowed herself to get to the point of rage. Right now there was nothing but anger in her bones.
Her heel burned from the cut, and she sat down on the couch.
“Her cousin?” Sam said.
“Turns out I am related to Neha,” Meena said. “Likely through my biological father.”
He sat next to her.
“And now this about my birth mother . . .” She’d already made a wrong assumption once. She didn’t want to chance it. “How would you interpret it?” She handed the new note back to him.
“Let’s see.” Sam frowned. “She talks about how close the aunties are and that one has a secret.”
“‘Circumstance,’” Meena jumped in. “That could be code for pregnancy?”
Sam looked around. “Do you have a dictionary?”
Meena laughed. “More like fifty or so.” She took an older edition of Merriam-Webster from the bookshelf and handed it to Sam.
“OK, the definition is ‘condition.’” Sam flipped through it.
“And a woman in a certain condition often refers to pregnancy,” Meena said.
“Then she adds, ‘I wonder if you resemble her.’ She hopes you resemble her.” Sam looked up at her. “If these notes are for you, and it’s very likely that they are—and that there’s a secret that one of them has the other two don’t know, and then a direct mention of the man being unattractive.”