I wondered if Hari Rao had lured Noelene with the promise of marriage and then backtracked on it.
Would Noelene have a yen for someone so above her station and have his child without some kind of exchange?
Why was Andrew chasing Hari Rao for an interview?
Were his reasons professional or personal?
Is this why Andrew left the life he had made for himself in the US and returned home?
What did he want from the man?
The Browns had clearly lost more than they had gained in this business of love. They had tasted it, embraced it and lost it. Lost at it. They’d been pursued. Catherine Brown.
My mind went back to those notes; it kept going back to the notes. It was a puzzle I needed to fix. Five thousand strains of grey.
In the end, Catherine had to pay, perhaps just like Bhumika. As did Noelene.
Maybe more than they had bargained for.
I thought of Andrew. To carry that burden, your family’s history, and yet walk so lightly, as if nothing was weighing you down, was quite something. I might’ve checked into an asylum.
Later that evening, I messaged Ravi, telling him I wanted to meet him. He asked about my trip with Andrew, adding that people had asked him whathisgirl was doing with Andrew Brown. He wanted to know if my story was coming out tomorrow. It was scheduled for later in the month.
That piece of information was met with a question mark I ignored.
We decided to meet at our usual coffee shop at 2 p.m. on Saturday.Morning Herald’s weekend meeting had been pushed back to 5 p.m. Ravi wanted to pick me up, but I told him I’d see him there.
After the logistics were taken care of, I slipped my phone into my bag and got to my feet. I decided to walk home.
I thought about Ravi and what we shared. We had done well to build a relationship on barely existing common ground, coexisting with our differences. We were mindfulnever to cross lines, the both of us. Never ask questions the answers to which you had a right to know as a couple.
The details of our lives were lost on each other, and curiously, that was where the balance came from. The blank pages. Together, yet alone.
It was late in the afternoon; the office was a relaxed space. Almost the weekend, even though that didn’t really apply to us. Cut that smirk, remember the Sunday morning paper.
I caught one of the photographers yawning as I walked over to Andrew’s cabin.
I stopped mid-stride. Andrew was on his feet talking to Sudha. The door was closed. I swivelled around and almost bumped into Soor.
‘Andrew is busy, eh,’ he said, waving a freshly minted page at me.
I yawned.
Andrew was moving his hands animatedly. His black tee was crumpled, but his proclamation was crisp. I could tell from his expression.
It was an impressive turnaround from a couple of days ago. Our eyes met. Andrew lowered his gaze and disappeared from my vision.
I returned to my cabin and settled heavily into my seat. There was so much on my mind, it felt like a sumo wrestler’s torso.
I pulled my hair back, and along with it, those thoughts that I didn’t want to deal with. I preferred instead to dwell on Andrew Brown’s family tree.
I opened a new mail and typed his address in.
Hey.Too casual.
Hello.Too formal.
Hi.Third-grader.
