My parents were never really the same after that. And there’d been a new unspoken rule in our home. An unspoken expectation.You will not end up like your sister. You will not end up the same way.
I give the bed one last longing look before crawling into the closet and slipping into my sleeping bag. I must be truly exhausted—and possibly borderline delirious—because this bag feels ten times more comfortable than it did before.
I sink down into its warmth, my body relaxing, a delightful haze taking over my mind.
The bathroom door opens with a loud creak, the sound traveling all the way in here. I close my eyes, hoping Nikhil will think I’m asleep. Hoping he’ll switch off the lantern so we can put an end to this day and just start fresh tomorrow. I don’t open them, even when I hear the sleeping bag beside me rustle, even though I can feel the weight of his gaze on me.
“I needed you,” he says softly. So softly I’m not sure whether I heard him. So softly I’m not sure whether hewantedme to hear him. “I needed you,” he says again, even quieter. “And then you left.”
Oh no. No. He doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to pin all the blame on me.
I flip over, and watch as his eyes widen in surprise.
“I didn’t just leave,” I say. “I asked you to move with me.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did!” I’d not only asked him to move to D.C.; I’d practically begged him.
“You said it, but you didn’tmeanit.”
“Oh, wow.” I sit up, my legs folding underneath me as I turn to face him fully. “So now you’re telling me you have some magicalability? You know my own thoughts better than I do? You think you can read my mind?”
He sits up as well, looking directly in my eyes. “I didn’t have to. Your face that day said it all. And if you’d really wanted me to move with you, you wouldn’t have shouted it at me in the heat of the moment. Like an afterthought. You’d have planned it. Methodically. That’s who you are, Meena.”
He’s right and he’s wrong. Normally I would have. I’d have presented a whole plan to him with a time line and ideas of places we could live. But all my carefully made plans tended to fly out the window when I was around Nikhil. And more than that, I’d been terrified to actually plan the move. It had felt like tempting fate. Tempting the powers that be. I hadn’t wanted to bank on passing the bar. On getting my job back. I hadn’t wanted to plan a move contingent on those things only for it to all fall apart. Again.
“You’re just making excuses now,” I say. “Bottom line is I asked you to come with me and you said no.”
“I didn’t say no.”
I scoff. “Oh, really?”
“You left before I could give you my answer.”
“Well, you didn’t move with me. You didn’t call me or text me or contact me at all after I left. So, I think it’s pretty clear what your answer would have been.”
“You’d be wrong.” Indecision flickers over his face for a moment, but then something hard and sure settles into place. “I came to D.C., you know?”
A cool wave of surprise washes over me, scattering every half-formed argument in my head. “What?”
“Stupid, right?” He lets out a sad, humorless laugh. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I wasn’t thinking.”
My mind whirs. “When…when did you—”
“Three months after. After you left.”
Three months. At that point, I’d barely unpacked my new apartment. Barely found my footing at work. I’d been so new to the city. So new to everything. And so heartbroken.
“I didn’t know. You never came to see me.”
“I did.”
I shake my head. That’s not possible. I never saw him there. Not once.
“I went to your office,” he continues. “And they told me you were on the Hill.”
That sounds…probable. I was there more days than not. Lobbying for causes. Pushing for the votes my clients wanted. It had been exhilarating back then. Recently, it’s started to feel…limiting. We’re selective with our clients, so our values tend to be aligned, but I want to be able to advocate for the causes I care about, not just the ones my clients do. It’s why I thought about running for office.
