She walked outside and turned her face up to the sky, letting the spring sun caress her face as she waited for her car. The deep ache of failure threatened to embrace her, and she had to consciously beat it back.
The valet brought her car around. She drove around the block, to the public library, and parked in the garage.
Her scream wasn’t high-pitched, but a guttural exclamation of frustration. She did it again, and again, until she’d released some of the emotions inside her. Like a bloodletting, but less gross.
One by one, she uncurled her fingers from around the steering wheel, and fished her phone out of the pocket on her skirt. Mira didn’t fuck with clothes that didn’t have pockets. There was no telling what one might need at any given time, like a lifeline to a friend.
The phone rang. “Come on, come on,” she muttered.
Finally, her best friend’s pretty, smiling face filled the screen. “Hey, are you having—”
“Jay dumped me.”
Christine cocked her head, her blue-black blunt-cut hair brushing her shoulder. She wore a large red and orange cotton nightgown. She and her husband were visiting her extended family in India, but she’d worn those colorful nighties for as long as Mira had known her, since their first night of college, when they’d been matched together as roommates. “That asshole,” she said immediately, which made Mira feel better. “Why?”
Because I don’t come from a good family. Because no matter how I pretend, your family isn’t mine. “It’s a moot point.”
A throat cleared, and Christine’s husband, Ted, moved into the frame. His nose was sunburned and peeling, but he looked happy. “Hi, Mira.”
At first glance, they made an odd couple. Christine held herself with confidence that bordered on arrogance, while Ted was meek. Christine looked like she’d stepped off a runway in Paris, tall and angular, with a strong stubborn jaw and gleaming dark-brown skin; Ted was pale and freckled and looked like he’d stepped off the cover of the Journal of Accountancy . . . which was, actually, his favorite journal.
“Hi, Ted,” she said dutifully. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Ted, she did. They had a lot in common, and even worked at the same accounting firm. In fact, Christine had met Ted at one of Mira’s company parties.
They were both rather awkward people. Talking to each other, with or without Christine there, beyond pleasantries was . . . difficult.
Ted peered at the phone. “Are you okay?”
“Totally okay.”
“She’s not okay. She got dumped.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that, Mira.”
Christine gave her husband a fond glance. “I’m thirsty, honey. Can you please get me some water? And a sandwich.”
Ted immediately nodded. “Of course.”
Christine waited for a moment, then leaned in close. “He’s been shoving water at me every minute since we found out about the pregnancy.”
“That’s nice,” Mira murmured. Why couldn’t she have it as easy as Christine? Her friend had met someone, dated him for a year, and now he was hydrating their future child.
“I’m sorry, honey. I know you were tentatively into this guy, at least.”
Mira watched a girl skip toward the library, holding her mom’s hand. “It’s the nature of this game. You can’t reject a dozen men and not have one reject you.”
“He’s clearly a fool,” Christine said loyally.
“You think so?”
“The biggest. You are a precious perfect jewel, and he’s a slimy slug that got caught in some bubblegum on the floor of a movie theater. I’m sure he was riddled with red flags.”
Her lips curved up, her spirits rising, too. “He was too rich.”
Christine raised an eyebrow. “Oh, no. Not that.”
She huffed out a strangled laugh.
“Now I’m glad I never met him. I would have hated him and had to agonize over whether to tell you. Saved us all some agitation.”
“Mmm.” Christine probably would have hated Jay, but she’d only really liked one of the men Hema had sent Mira’s way. Not surprisingly, that had been the only breakup where Christine hadn’t unequivocally been on Mira’s side. Both because Christine liked the guy, and because Mira’s “it’s not you, it’s me” text after meeting the man’s family hadn’t been her most mature move.
“What you’re going to do is you’re going to pull out that spreadsheet of yours and add NO J NAMES to your list of requirements. Especially when his name is literally a J. Tell Hema that.”
Mira inhaled. “Speaking of, that’s kind of why I called you. All I could think about was how upset Hema would be.”
Christine leaned back on her bed. The fan turning overhead cast shadows in the dim lights that lit her room in her grandmother’s house. “Your first thought after being dumped by a man you were evaluating for marriage was over whether or not you’d disappoint your matchmaker?” Her brow relaxed. “Well, I suppose that’s good. It doesn’t sound like you’re heartbroken.”
In order to be heartbroken, the heart had to be engaged, and that wasn’t something Mira got close to doing these days. “No. Not heartbroken. Not over Jay. But this may be the last straw for Hema where I’m concerned.”
“He turned you down, though!”
And she trusted Jay to admit to that, but it wouldn’t make a material difference. “I don’t think she’ll care. Your family vouched for me with Hema Auntie, so please tell your parents how sorry I am.” Christine hadn’t needed a matchmaker, but both of her younger sisters had used the infamous older woman’s services. Mira had attended their big weddings in Chennai. They’d glowed with happiness and gushed over their diminutive guest of honor, the matchmaker who had paired them with their life mates.
Mira had wanted that. She’d craved it, with every fiber of her being. Not the big fancy wedding, but everything else.
Christine made a dismissive sound. “My parents don’t care. And neither do I. We only care about you.”
Mira looked away, so she wouldn’t have to look into her friend’s too-understanding eyes. “When are you coming home again?”
“In two weeks, and we’ll go out on a dairy-free ice cream binge.”
She blinked rapidly. She must have an eyelash in her eye. “I told you I’m fine.”
“And I told you you’re not okay.”
Mira’s gaze drew back to the phone. She gave a low, shaky exhale. “I swear I wasn’t in love with him or anything.”
“You were in love with the possibility.” Her tone was soft. “You’ve had a rough year, Mira. Go easy on yourself.”
Mira bit the inside of her cheek. Christine was one of the few people in her life who knew everything about her, including her past and the recent losses she’d had to deal with. One of those losses hadn’t affected her much. The other had.
Her nose twitched.
“Mira? What’s wrong?”
She wished she could verbalize at least a fraction of the feelings tumbling inside her. Usually she could temper and bury those emotions, but she was raw today.
I’m sad my aunt died, and guilty over how distant our relationship was.