I was given this cabin two years ago. I remember the excitement bubbling within me when Mr Kumar handed me the keys. ‘Our youngest cabin crew member,’ he had said, softly adding, ‘The promotion to features editor will come soon.’ It didn’t, not that it bothered me.
It was a bare room with a table and two chairs. The two-seater sofa with green upholstery came later, helping me transform it into my space.
‘Too cluttered,’ my mother might’ve said, swelling with pride.
My back was against the rear wall of my cabin as I slid down to roll out the bottom drawer. I was at odds with the world. I had sent a coffee mug crashing to the floor this morning. I told my father it had slipped from my hand, but that’s not what happened. It wasn’t my infamous left hook either, but I had looked at the red-orange bits of ceramic and wondered if that was me.
I apologized to my father.
I forced myself to take a deep breath. I exhaled.
That’s when I caught the white of Andrew’s tee. He had his back to the office. He was looking out at MG Road, perhaps enjoying the view from his perch. Tall trees. Traffic. More wheels, hardly rolling.
He turned; our eyes met. He was walking to my cabin.
I was on my feet. I threw whatever it was I was holding in my hand into the carton. It crashed.
Andrew knocked but entered without waiting for me to respond.
I nodded. He wanted to say something; it was in his expression.
‘I spoke to Hari Rao. He called me to his place, summoned me,’ Andrew said a little breathlessly. ‘He told me he knew why I had returned to Bengaluru – to claim my share of the crown.’
I felt the air leave my lungs; I was without words.
‘He said, “Be sure, young man, that is never going to happen.”’ He was reciting Hari Rao’s words, his accent, too. I don’t think he was doing it consciously.
I sank to the floor. ‘Did you tell him how and when you found out that he was your grandfather?’
Andrew shook his head. He was on the floor, too, facing me.
‘Did you ask him about Noelene? What went wrong between them.’
Andrew looked away. He didn’t need to answer that question.
I took a deep breath, I exhaled. Andrew did the same, his nostrils flared.
Who is Andrew’s father? I squashed the question quickly, hopefully for the last time. Queries can cut, bleed you to death.
If there was a name on any document of his, Andrew would’ve followed that lead, crawled to the ends of the earth if he had to. I knew the boy, I know the man. Andrew was given his maternal surname, just like Sarah Ann Brown before him. Perhaps.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He was on his feet, and I followed suit. ‘For my mistake, for what it cost us, what it cost me.’
I felt the first tremors of a tempest blowing within me.
‘It was a… mistake. It has destroyed me,’ he said before turning around.
I watched him leave my cabin. Shoulders slumped, head down.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said to his retreating frame, ‘sorry I broke your mug.’
I took two steps to my chair and spun it around. I settled into it slowly, resting my back and then my head before shutting my eyes. I had made the right decision. I had to leave.
Chapter 30
The first thing I bought myself in Mumbai was a fridge magnet. A hideous smiley emoji. It elicited the right response.
I’d been to Mumbai multiple times in the last five to six years. I loved it. Its fierceness particularly.
