Chapter 11

A wave of homecoming washed over Nandani when she opened the door to her room, suitcase trailing behind her. The furniture was pretty simple and included a twin bed, a mirror, and a dresser. The rest she had taken with her to the school hostel.

The last she had lived there was two years ago in the summer. Since then she had been back only a handful of times for a weekend or on a holiday. For most of her mid-year breaks, she stayed at the townhouse, with a couple of days at Mukti's place.

There were a few more pictures here which her Mom did not like displaying in the living room. Over her dresser was a collage that included one of Nandani and Mukti posing at a mock fashion show. Another was of hers at a horse riding camp when she was seven. Nandani was a terrible rider, which squashed her Mom's dreams that she would make it to the Olympics.

Her mom had left a couple of boxes and garbage bags in the room for her. There were more of the latter than the former.

Nandani decided to start with the closet, so she put on some music and decided and got down to her job.

After two hours of work, she found certain things which she had forgotten she had. It was like revisiting the past. She packed two bags of clothes for charity, a garbage bag full of old school notes for recycling, and half her suitcase was filled with old clothes and other things.

She then reached up the top shelf of her closet, thinking she had gotten everything, when her fingers grazed a box, pressed to the back that she had to stretch to grasp it.

It turned out to be full of photos. These were older ones, than the ones in the living room, and also the ones above her dresser. These photographs were Nandani's and Mukti's when they were about six years. Then there were a few of them, she with her grandparents when she was very small. Finally, there was one of her dad's.

She was teary-eyed looking at it. She had forgotten these were even here. Her father pushing her on a swing and she could not have been more than four. She had that look on her face that only kids have when everything in life is perfect and awe-inspiring. Before one has even realized that your parents do not have all the answers. That they make mistakes. That they think you are one of those mistakes.

Her phone buzzed her out of her daydream and glancing at the clock she realized she had already been cleaning for hours.

Liberated any of the family skeletons? Manik texted.

Not so far. Lots of clothes though. She replied.

Then on impulse, she took a snapshot of her dad's pic and sent it to him.

That is your dad? You look happy. In fact, both of you look happy. He texted.

I think we were. She replied.

This was getting into serious territory for texting, Nandani thought. She was suddenly not even sure why she sent her father's pic. She did not talk about her dad with anyone, except with Mukti, that too on rare occasions.

She then heard the door closing downstairs.

Mom home, going to see her, Bye-TC

She felt like a teenager again sneaking cell time when she was not supposed to. She carefully set the photos back in the box and put them in her suitcase. She braced herself to face whatever was waiting for her downstairs.

******************************

"Nandani, would you pass the salad?" Dinner was a typical affair in the house. Eaten at the family dining room table, prepared by her mom.

It was a civilized affair if somewhat lacking in the warmth department. Her mother was making polite conversation. Karan and Sarah seemed more interested in her presence than her mother was.

"How is high school this semester?" Karan asked. He was tall and serious-looking with graying hair and sharp eyes, that were kind but missed very little. "You have a law class? If your mother or I can help, just let us know."

Nandani started to thank him but her mom cut her off. "It is an introductory class, Karan, not pre-law. I am sure Nandani can fumble through on her own." Nandani just gritted her teeth.

"I am sure we will just hire our own lawyer once Mukti and I launch the business anyway," Nandani replied.

Her mom then started boasting about her friend's daughter, who had graduated from a business school. Two years later she has been promoted to the director of accounts at a big bank. No matter how many times Nandani said she was going into business with Mukti it was as if she refused to recognize it. Her mom tried pushing her into a more conventional career. One involving traditionally cut suits and steady paychecks. She was probably regretting the day she had enrolled Nandani in the same kindergarten as her best friend.

Nandani quickly steered the topic of conversation to Sarah, and they managed to navigate dinner without any major incident. When it was finally over Karan suggested they take a drive down to the new house.

"It is okay," Nandani said quickly. "Sarah showed me the pictures and it looks fantastic. I have a lot of packing still to do and my friend's picking me up tomorrow morning."

Nandani had a sleep ridden with strange dreams. She woke up ready to finish the last of her packing. She had to get out of this place before it drove her crazy. The old memories of the first year living in Karan's house where her Mom was trying to figure out how to relate to her, while she was figuring out her place in the new order, were all rushing back. The feeling of guilt at disappointing her mom, of abandonment after her Dad took off, everything seemed to flood her brain.

She fired off a text to Manik to see if he could pick her up sooner than they had planned, then finished her last packing. The final tally was four bags of garbage, three for charity, and just one box to go to the new house. Her suitcase to take back to school was full of clothes and a box of pictures.

Relief washed over her when Manik confirmed he could be there at ten. She said a hurried goodbye to her Mom and Karan. Sarah would not let her leave without a hug.

Manik Malhotra, clad in faded jeans, and a plaid shirt, leaning up against the side of his Chevrolet Chevette, in front of her house was the best sight she had seen all weekend. She let out a deep breath, she didn't know she had been holding. Though she preferred to have some alone time, Manik's company was the next best thing.

"Lady ordered a jailbreak?" Manik joked.

"My knight in shining armor," she tried joking instead. "This rescuing thing is becoming a habit."

"I am hardly a hero, but glad I can help." He took her suitcase from her hand and loaded it easily into the car. They then slid into the front seat from opposite sides and he pulled away from the driveway.

"You are weird," he said after a moment, his eyes still on the road.

Nandani pulled her sunglasses down her nose and turned to look at him. "Thanks," she said.

"No. I mean something's off. You seem ...weird. Is it just from being around your parents?"

Nandani didn't bother correcting him. She used to, previously, when people said 'your parents' or 'your family' instead of 'your mom and stepdad.'

She went with the shortest true answer. "Yup. What can I say? They bring out the best in me." Nandani did not like to talk about her family with anyone, even Mukti. But for some reason, it did not feel strange talking to him.

Manik glanced across at her. "You guys are not close."

"That is the understatement of the year. I am the daughter they were stuck with, not the one they wanted," Nandani said.

"That is hard to believe. Have you ever talked about it? With your mom?" he asked her.

"About the fact that she finds me generally disappointing? Not so much," she replied.

She could hear the wheels turning in Manik's mind. He didn't miss much either. "Is that why you spent so much time at our house?" he asked.

"Well, yes." She ran her finger absently along the edge of the window frame, where the leather interior met the glass.

"We cannot pick our families, Nandani." They sat in silence for a few moments. "Do you miss your dad?" he asked.

She thought about it. "More than I would like to. Less than I should."

He nodded as if it made perfect sense. "He left when you were young, right?"

"Ten. But even before that he and my mom used to argue a lot, about money, about me. He had been working but then lost his job. A month later he was gone," Nandani said.

"And you have no idea where he went?" Manik asked.

"No. But when I turned eighteen I thought about looking for him. I even saved up summer job money to hire an investigator, but when I went to meet the investigator, he asked what I would do if I found out about my dad. Then I realized I did not actually want to see him. Is that crazy? To miss someone, but not want to see them?"

Manik thought for a moment. "Maybe."

Her eyes returned to the window and she watched the passing houses. Something had been on her mind for a while and she figured now was a good time to take a risk. "Manik, can I ask you something?"

He didn't say anything but flicked his eyes over to her and back to the road. Nandani took that as a yes and forged ahead.

"Mukti said you went to rehab. Is that true?" She was dying to know. Despite everything she had known and heard about him, the Manik Malhotra she had been getting to know the last few weeks contrasted sharply with the picture Mukti had painted about him.

He stiffened instantly but remained silent.

"It is none of my business. You can tell me that if you want." She backed out in response to the sudden cold radiating off him.

Manik finally spoke. "At the end of last summer, the story got out. The rehab thing. People had one of the two responses: Either it freaked them out and they distanced themselves from me, or it drew them to me." His voice had a hint of distaste but he was not judgemental, which she expected.

The traffic light in front of them turned red. Manik paused for a moment before turning to look at her, really look at her. His depthless eyes probed hers, but she felt as if they were looking past her, into her soul. "Do you know that you are the first person to ever ask if it was true?" In his gaze was gratitude, and something else. He was trying to figure her out, like solving a puzzle with his engineer's brain.

She felt a squeezing in her chest, either from his eyes or from compassion for this guy who seemed to have an uncanny ability to cut through her walls with his honesty and frankness.