Chapter 49
SIMRAN HAD PREDICTED, upon returning from the hospital, that her mother would fully ignore her. Yet, there’s a cup of chah on the counter for her every day. An extra couple paranthé in the roti box every morning.
It’s very confusing, because her mom still won’t talk to her. And now that Rajan won’t either, it’s like she lost both of them at once.
But, if the past few months have shown her anything, it’s that life goes on.
TJ’s mom seems to share that mindset, because she comes by again a few days later, and she and Simran’s mom are perfectly civil to each other.
Simran would’ve thought after their big fight, things would be even worse.
But instead it’s like something’s loosened between them.
Amidst their laughter, Simran overhears them discussing the cancer: There won’t be any further treatments necessary for her mom. It’s really over.
For now, anyway.
And she hates that thought for digging into her head, but it does. All day, and into the evening, when she gets dressed and heads for the door.
Kiran stops her. “Can I borrow your truck?”
“I’m going to Hillway.” Several people are graduating the program today, and Simran decided to set up a dinner in their honour. “Free food” was how she advertised it to them, served after their volunteering commitment that evening.
She tries to sidestep Kiran, but Kiran blocks her again. “I just,” Kiran takes a deep breath, “have a job interview, okay? At a BC lifestyle magazine, and I don’t want to ask Mom and Dad for their car. Can I take yours? I’ll make sure you get a ride home.”
“A job interview? Here?”
Kiran nods. “I quit my job in Ontario. It’s not like my career was taking off over there anyway. I’m only going back to pick up my stuff.” When Simran stares, she adds, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not planning to live in this house, but I’m coming back to BC somewhere. I want to be closer to you.”
“You don’t have to do that for me.”
“It’s for me. I need a reset. And...I want to get to know my baby sister better.” She elbows Simran. “Because clearly I don’t know you at all. Never would’ve guessed you’d hook up with a bad boy at a wedding reception.”
Trust Kiran to make all this into a joke. “We weren’t—”
“Anyway,” Kiran continues, grinning, “I thought you were into Jassa. You have the same interests, he’s an overachiever like you, and Mom and Dad like him. Meanwhile, this Randhawa kid is the opposite of you in every way. Like, wow, where did my little sister’s logic go?”
Simran sighs and looks at the ceiling. “Can’t one person believe I made the right choice?”
It’s more of a rhetorical question, but Kiran’s smile fades.
“You know, when I moved out, I had all these big dreams. Mom and Dad thought my job was unstable and would end with me crashing and burning, and honestly...I wondered that, too.” Her mouth twists.
“Believing in myself when no one else did was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
It’s still hard. I’m twenty-eight, I’m stuck in the same job, it’s not glamorous.
I haven’t ‘made it.’ You’d think I’d finally accept that everyone was right, but I keep going anyway. You should, too.”
Simran stands there, shocked. Her sister made her own decisions, and they didn’t work out.
And she’s still admitting that to Simran.
Simran could say we told you so, or she could say something that matters.
She could give Kiran what she hopes someone will give her, in the future, if her choices end up being mistakes.
“I’m sorry I ever said your choices were illogical,” Simran tells her. “I didn’t know it hurt you like that. I do believe in you, you know. You’re only twenty-eight. You have a whole life to make it work.”
Kiran bursts into tears, surprising Simran.
“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you for saying that.”
The Hillway dinner is in the gymnasium of Simran’s high school.
It was easy for her to book, due to her connections with the school admin.
It’s a convenient location, too, seeing as the afternoon’s volunteering took place across the road at the indoor turf, where the group inflated bouncy castles and set up other activities for a kids’ event tomorrow.
Looking up at the NORTHRIDGE SECONDARY sign, she feels a twinge of nostalgia. Her problems used to be so easily contained within these brick walls.
She shakes her head and lets herself inside.
Paul and a few other Hillway organizers are already in the gym when Simran arrives. Lights are strung over the doorway, a THANK YOU banner hanging over the stage. The caterers are bringing supplies in from their truck.
Paul spots her immediately. “Simran! I’ve been looking for you.
The caterers were asking where we wanted the food—I was thinking the back?
That way, we can leave the stage empty so the Hillway president can say a few words.
” He nods in the direction of a balding man in a suit, who waves from where he’s talking to a volunteer nearby.
“You must meet him. He’s the grandson of the founder—”
A voice sounds behind Simran, so familiar she drops her water bottle. “Dude, I don’t think anyone cares.”
And before she can draw another breath, Rajan steps to her side, scooping up her water bottle and placing it in her hands without a second glance. While she stares at him, speechless, Paul frowns.
“Rajan, I’m glad you volunteered to help tonight, but it’s an honour to have Mr. Hillway—”
“They’re here to eat,” Rajan interrupts. He’s in a black Hillway T-shirt like everyone else. But he’s finished probation—what’s he doing here? “If you ask them to listen to boring speeches instead, you’re just making them do more community service on their night off.”
Paul glances at Simran. “What do you think?”
Simran’s already on thin ice with Paul, so she chooses her words carefully. “I’m happy Mr. Hillway’s here, but I agree this night should be about the volunteers. I suggest we put the food on the tables so they can eat right when they arrive.”
Paul looks between them. “Well...it’s your event, I suppose.” He shakes his head and goes to tell the caterers.
“Damn, Simran Auntie,” Rajan says when they’re alone. “That was the politest fuck-off I’ve ever seen.”
Simran faces him. “What’re you doing here, Rajan?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Volunteering. Helping humanity. Seva. Whatever you wanna call it.”
He’s acting too casual, but she plays along for now. “You...rejoined Hillway? But you’re done.”
He shrugs. “Paul needed extra hands tonight.”
She has a feeling there’s a lot more going on behind that sentence, but right then the Hillway president joins them.
“Simran. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He shakes her hand, beaming. “I’m so impressed with what you’ve done for the organization. Revitalizing it with all these creative volunteering opportunities. And this dinner! It’s an...interesting idea.”
He sounds uncertain about whether it’s a good one. “I don’t want them to only see community service as a punishment,” Simran replies. “It can be rewarding. Fun. A way to build skills. If they don’t turn up, that’s fine, but we should show we’re genuine about it.”
“Well said,” he replies, and she can tell she just won him over. “Our board of governors could use some fresh minds. One of the members is retiring this year. How would you feel about joining?”
Simran blinks. “I’ll—think about it.”
“Excellent. So nice to meet you, Simran.” He leaves her to join Paul again, and Simran glances around to find Rajan on the other side of the room draping tablecloths.
She so badly wants to talk to him...but she doesn’t want to scare him away, either.
So she watches from afar. He looks worlds better than he did in the hospital, although he still holds himself differently. Probably the ribs.
It’s overwhelming to see him standing there, exuding warmth and comfort and vitality, because if Nick had gotten to him a minute later he wouldn’t be.
And maybe, even if she can’t be with him, she can be grateful that he’s here, that he’s getting the second chance he always deserved. And that can be enough.
She turns back to her work as the first Hillway mentee saunters through the door.
Surprisingly, seven volunteers turn up. Simran ordered food for twenty but would’ve considered the night a success if even three showed.
She drifts around saying hellos and making sure everything goes smoothly—which includes ordering emergency takeout for someone with food restrictions, solving a technical issue with the sound system, and running to a classroom for an extra chair.
When the night’s over, she helps take down lights and wipe tables.
By the time she and Paul are wrestling the THANK YOU banner back into its much-too-small bag for future use, there’s no one else left except Rajan (who’s holding the bag open).
When they’re done, Paul takes the bag, wiping sweat off his forehead.
“I’ll let you lock up since you have to give the keys back anyway.
” He drops them into her hand. “Did you get a chance to meet John? He was hoping to recruit you to the board.”
“Yes. It was nice of him to offer.”
“Don’t underplay it,” Rajan says. “When you said you’d think about it, the dude looked ready to cream himself.”
Simran hadn’t realized he’d been listening. Paul, however, turns beet-red. “Rajan!” he admonishes. “We don’t use that kind of crass language around our mentors.” He glances anxiously at Simran, then at Rajan. “Apologize to her at once.”
Rajan winks at Simran. “Sorry, Auntie.”
Simran smiles at him, hoping he’ll understand she doesn’t need his apologies. The fact that he doesn’t filter himself around her is one of her favourite things about him.
“How much of that conversation with Mr. Hillway did you hear?” she asks when Paul leaves to drag the banner bag back to his car.
“All of it. That part where you were talking about community service, though...you give these guys too much credit.”