“Just say it, Sam.” Meena leaned back. Closed her eyes and let the wave of frustration, resentment, anger, irritation, grief, pain, and heartache crash through her. “Or better yet, rip it up. Destroy it.”
“I think she’s saying that one of them could be your biological mother, and her cousin was the one who got her pregnant.”
Meena didn’t want to cry. She’d made peace. Well, apart from wanting proof that she belonged here, rightfully. That was all that mattered. She didn’t want to feel things. Didn’t want to know that there were more secrets. That she’d been growing close to these women, and one of them could be her . . . she stopped her runaway mind. “There’s a fat envelope in the desk drawer with all of the notes I’ve found. Take them all, light them on fire.”
He took her hand. She pulled out of his grasp. Her skin hot, her heart fragile, she did not want his kindness. Her mind screamed for her to retreat. To run away. “One of them knows. Right? She has to know. She knows why Neha would have left me this apartment.” And yet they’d let Meena believe she was a stranger, a random person who had come into their lives.
Sam put his hand over hers. This time she let his touch calm her. She wasn’t going to run. She wasn’t going to push away someone who was starting to matter.
Meena bit the inside of her cheek hard. “I’ve eaten with her, gotten drunk, I’ve . . . she knows . . .”
He put his arm around her. Squeezed her against him. She kept her hand in his and closed her eyes. She was drowning in betrayal as all her feelings swam around her. Every cell in her body wanted to run. She could be packed and out of there in thirty minutes.
No ties. No knots.
She stayed in Sam’s arms. Let him steady her. Keep her in place.
“Don’t run.” Sam held her.
Her eyes clashed with his. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“You’re not thinking, you’re feeling,” Sam said. “That’s what you want to stop doing by running.”
“Therapist?”
“Special effects engineer.”
She laughed, and it helped her come up for air.
“Stay and figure it out.” Sam stroked her hair. “The only way is through.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
She hadn’t run. But she’d hidden. She’d avoided. She didn’t want to see the aunties or sit at a table with them knowing one of them shared her DNA. The last few days, she’d tried to manage her feelings, contain her anger. She wanted to confront them but didn’t know how. She didn’t know what they knew, and they didn’t know what she knew.
She put her palms on her warm cheeks. She had the puzzle pieces, but not the whole of it. She channeled her exasperation into cleaning. The living room was less cluttered, the knickknacks packed up in three boxes in the corner. She shook lamp bases, opened lids, and looked under every possible item for other notes. She didn’t want to miss any further musings. Neha had written that the truth would be revealed. Maybe it was still here somewhere. She knew enough about Neha to know that the woman had a warped personality and a cruel streak. Maybe she’d find a birth certificate or hints of names, date of birth, place of birth. But she found nothing.
Meena had looked at archives online for people with her birthday, but without much to go on, it was too long a list. One thing was certain. Meena no longer wanted to play this game in which Neha was the only one who knew the rules. The aunties, or one of them, would have to tell her. No more notes. She didn’t want to read any more of Neha’s ambiguous words. She wanted someone to narrate from beginning to end. She was no longer amused by or interested in unearthing facts. This was her past, her future. She wanted it in plain, simple terms.
Meena got up from the couch. She needed to do something. Spending this much time in her head was unbearable. She flung open the apartment door. If anyone passed through the hall, she would talk to them. If it was one of the aunties, she’d face them, confront them, wait for an explanation. Flowers and hearts assaulted her, the former with their sharp scent, the latter with their overwhelming presence in the hallway.