I remember the day he got into Harvard. He had come to St. Mary’s to tell me about it at lunch break. He didn’t call; he borrowed a friend’s bike and rode halfway across town to let me know. Andrew was interning with a law firm at that time.
He had some notes in his wallet, which he used to bribe the watchman. I was walking down the college driveway, and he picked me up, hoisting me. When he put me down, he kissed the top of my head and whispered, ‘We made it.’
Every pair of eyes on the campus was on me. I still feel it.
‘Have you told Nana?’ I asked of the only family I knew he had.
‘I will,’ he said, running his finger down my cheek. ‘I have the rest of the day.’
He had the day but not much more time with Noelene.
Chapter 8
It was one of those rare nights when I had gone to bed early. My parents were attending a wedding, and I had drifted off to sleep reading.
Andrew was watching a tennis match, the French Open, in which I had little interest. The trill of the phone woke me up.
‘Nana, Noelene… collapsed.’ Andrew was at the other end. He was shouting.
I wondered if I was awake. I was, and I was shaking.
I washed my face before locking the flat and heading out. It was only when I exited the lift in the basement that I realized I was in pyjamas and chappals. I was carrying money, but I wasn’t in a fit state to call a cab. I decided to run the two kilometres to Andrew’s place.
The air was wet. To distract myself from the weather, the catcalls and the bikes that kindly stopped to ask if I wanted to hop on, I thought I might actually like running. One foot in front of the other, listening to the wind hiss, feeling the droplets, tasting them. Wet feet, muddy bottoms. Weather-beaten.
This wouldn’t rank among the smartest things I had done. I knew that even as I started running, but Andrew needed me.
The ambulance reached just as I arrived. I climbed into it with Andrew. He hugged me so tight, I thought he had squeezed the living breath out of me.
‘Are you carrying some water?’ I asked out of habit.
‘She won’t need water,’ he said, crying silently.
Chapter 9
I couldn’t get to the 19th Floor quickly enough. My shoes were stalling me – too steep for the pebbled pavement.
I’m normally sensible in these matters. On days that required getting around, which is most workdays, I wore sneakers. Only on occasion did I indulge myself. Looks over comfort.
I hadn’t factored in the one-kilometre hike from office to the resto-bar today. Too close to taxi and too far to totter. Blame it on Meena Iyer.
I was meeting my oldest friend – we’d been together since kindergarten – for the first time in nearly a decade. Her family had shifted back to Bengaluru a couple of months ago. Meena had invited Chhaya and me for drinks.
I was excited to see Meena, but equally, a sense of dread had been building inside me after I’d heard from her last week. My heart felt impossibly heavy.
Words were swirling around my head.
The pin that burst the bubble.
A brouhaha I didn’t want to acknowledge.
I pushed that draught of grotty air into my recesses and impelled a smile.
There was much to look forward to this evening – the reunion of friends.
That’s when the heel of my shoe found the edge of a crevice on the pavement. I was tilting, dragged down by the bulk of my tote, when a firm grip on my elbow steadied me.
As I straightened to my full height, my eyes met rapidly darkening almond-brown pools. The lost notes of halcyon.
