Was it okay to ask him to send them to me?
The one time I came up with a suitable pretext to approach him, he wasn’t in his seat. Mercifully. Friday was a whirlwind kind of day, where I was pulled in various directions.
I finally saw him on Saturday afternoon, at our end-of-week meeting. His rear actually. His full butt was right in front of my face before he sat down. It was a ripe few seconds, and just as well that he took his seat quickly.
I dropped a long-winding explanation about having to meet a source as I exited the editorial. It was for anyone who was listening just in case I was needed. I have a phone, but I was stepping out to fly a kite during work hours.
I walked out into a warm sun that embraced me instantly. I had 90 minutes to kill before I sat down with my friend. I contemplated walking down to the mall, a 10-minute jaunt, where I could pick up a much-needed running vest.
I was hyper about shoes. I changed them at the faintest hint of wear, never mind tear, but I was lazy about gear. I decided to buy some tees and vests and maybe even a pairof shorts or two. I always wore running tights, no particular reason why. That was about to change.
The display window of the Adidas store had more colours than a paint palette. I felt my smile as I walked into the flagship set-up.
I was looking at the vests when I heard a voice I recognized.
‘Heeeeyyyyyy.’
I chose not to answer and stuck with the process of running through their collection. They had the racerback version in three colours – pink, blue and black. Maybe I needed to look at the half-sleeved option. That way, I’d get some protection from the sun that enjoyed colouring me in a deeper shade each time I stepped out to keep it company. Not that I’m complaining. Brown is bold. Chocolate. Scrumptious. Me.
The sound of stilettoes on sparkling tiles was getting louder. I was in my white sneakers.
I didn’t want to meet Meena, not today. Not ever.
‘Heeeyyyyyy,’ she trilled again.
Another of Meena’s USPs. Only people with power of one kind or another were addressed by their names; for the rest, it was simply ‘hey’. It is my least-favourite reference. I have a beautiful name, my mother’s choice. If you can’t call me by that, then at least try the alphabetically challenged version of ‘Mai’.
Hey is who? I’m not a feather duster.
‘Are you ignoring me?’ she asked, striking a pose as she tapped my shoulders. As I turned from the racks of soul-stirring colour, she pulled me into a hug.
This was the first time I was meeting or speaking to her since that forgettable evening more than three months ago.
‘Hi!’
‘Whaaaare havve you been?’ she trilled.
To market, to market to buy a fat pig.
Had our friendship mattered to Meena, she’d have known where I’d been these last few weeks. Even if it was only to the corner shop to buy a bag of overpriced chips. This pseudo concern, much like that ‘How-are-you? Not-that-I-really-care’ kinda query comes from people who, for some opportune reason, have slipped into the fringes of your existence. That breathless, ‘Whaaaare havve you been’ opening is their attempt to gloss over the slush and make it appear like all would’ve been well had you kept in touch.
All would not.
If I had any idea that Meena Iyer was anywhere in the vicinity of this mall, I’d have sat put in office, making diabetic love to Andrew with my eyes.
Her perfume was all over me. I sniffed once more to make sure I wasn’t imagining that stain of smell. ‘Around,’ I said, keeping with the smile that was already tiring. ‘How about you?’ What else can you say?
‘Buying branded clothes, eh? Is it a gift from the good doctor?’ She nudged my ribs, laughing, but pulled back quickly, like she’d got an electric shock.
I couldn’t afford gear of my choice; I apparently needed my boyfriend’s credit card. I laughed.
‘All this running you are doing is good for your figure, but you are getting darker,’ she said, patting my hands. ‘That’s not a smart thing, you know. Very little suits that shade.’
Distracted by the envy in her voice, my gaze dropped to her waistline. There was an extra layer around the middle I hadn’t noticed before. Meena had been skinny in school, but after she shifted to the US, she gradually gained weight.She was still on the lighter side, and the extra pounds filled her out nicely, adding to her glow.
‘Come, come,’ she called, tugging at my sleeve. ‘I’m sure this place has a coffee shop. Let’s sit down for a bit. I’ve been meaning to call.’
Instead of saying I had to be in office in another five minutes or so and getting on with what I intended to do, I was thinking that this mall, with its high-street outlets, wasn’t her kind of place.
