Chapter 17
THE ONCOLOGIST FOLDS her hands. “I have mixed news.”
Simran tries not to tense. Her parents, sitting next to her in the appointment room, are already tense enough.
It’s been weeks since her mother’s disastrous birthday party—weeks of a cloud hanging over them all.
Right up until now. But the doctor doesn’t seem to notice, swiveling in her chair to face them.
“The scans don’t show any obvious spread.
But there are some ambiguous findings on your imaging.
We won’t know for sure until the surgery, when they biopsy your lymph nodes.
You should probably prepare for needing. ..more treatment, though.”
A long silence. If what Simran read in her internet spirals about cancer treatment is true, there’s a lot to prepare for. A headache builds behind her eyes. She can barely even get through this, how’s she supposed to deal with all that?
Simran’s mother speaks up. “About this surgery. I want to make sure this is done discreetly. I don’t want—”
“Your sister, who’s a physician, to know. Yes, I remember,” the oncologist replies, somewhat drily, likely because Simran’s mom says this at every appointment. She stands to open the door for them. “Your procedure is scheduled on a day that Dr. Powar isn’t in the OR. Don’t worry.”
As they’re walking out into the parking lot, Simran’s dad nudges her. “Tell Kiran the news.”
This is clearly an excuse to make her phone her sister. Simran sighs. She knows what Kiran will say, and it’s already, preemptively, annoying her.
She half hopes it’ll go to voicemail, but instead, Kiran picks up first ring. “How’d it go?”
“No obvious spread—”
“See!” Kiran sounds triumphant. “Told you—”
“—but it’s ambiguous. We don’t know for sure yet.”
“Sure, but this is great news. I’m busy right now, but tell Mom and Dad hi, okay?
” And she hangs up. That’s clearly all she wanted to hear.
Must be nice to get updates and go, and not have to deal with how suffocating the house has been leading up to this appointment.
And it’s only going to get worse with this surgery hanging over their heads.
The prospect of going home suddenly feels unbearable, and Simran’s again guiltily glad she has plans today. “I have to go. I’ll be home in a few hours.”
Her father nods, squeezing her hand. Her mom barely appears to hear. They never ask where she’s going anymore. Which is too bad, because today, unlike many days in the past few weeks, she would’ve been able to answer honestly.
She separates from her parents to drive to UBCO.
She’s running another errand for the undergraduate student society: clearing the event boards in preparation for the incoming year.
All the posters, tutoring ads, and sign-up sheets from the last eight months have to go.
Dull work, but Simran doesn’t mind. Especially not these days.
Surprisingly, when she arrives, Chandani is also there to help.
“Why even put your ad this high up?” Chandani holds up a flyer. She’s on the stepladder next to Simran’s, pulling pins from the wall and offering commentary the whole way across. “Who’s going to come to this event, giraffes?”
Simran shrugs as she takes down the SPRING EVENTS sign at the top of the board. When it comes to Chandani, Simran says very little in general. Usually Chandani finds a way to carry the conversation on her own.
But this time, Chandani leans against her ladder. “Okay, I’ll be honest. The only reason I came today is because TJ told me to check on you. She thinks you’re acting weird.”
Simran pauses. She knew Chandani volunteering was suspicious. As for TJ...they’ve talked briefly since exams ended, but Simran finds it difficult to maintain conversation when TJ’s so nosy. Which usually leads to Simran ending the call for fear that she’ll expose her mom’s secret.
Or maybe her own.
Thankfully, Simran’s phone buzzes at that moment. She fishes it out of her back pocket. Private number. “Hello?”
“Don’t ‘hello’ me, it’s Nick,” Nick says. “As you know. I need you tonight.”
Next to Simran, Chandani mouths, Nick? with a gleeful grin on her face. Simran leans away slightly. The last thing she needs is Chandani overhearing a call with the Lions.
When Simran had left that initial meeting, Nick didn’t offer any clarity on whether she’d hear back.
But a week later, he called...and the week after, too.
Now Simran’s in the café every week, running the books under the supervision of Zohra and a rotating group of Lions.
She hasn’t seen Rory again and hasn’t asked.
Her job is the numbers only. There’s a lot of work to do, tidying old calculations and recording new ones.
She’s starting to understand parts of it—four-digit codes, buying product from other four-digit codes—but she finds herself trying to go a step further each time.
Trying to glean their patterns. She likes putting the stories together, even if the characters remain anonymous.
But...“I can’t tonight,” she tells Nick. “I’m busy.” Usually he gives her more heads-up. Tonight she’s helping Neetu pick out decorations for the engagement party.
“That wasn’t a request,” Nick says. “That’s an order, from someone above my paygrade. We found something we need your skill set for.”
Chandani leans in farther, and that’s it, Simran can’t risk her hearing more. She climbs down her ladder. “And what’s that?”
“How many times do I have to say this? If you want to keep this arrangement up, you don’t get to ask questions. Six. The usual place.”
She was supposed to meet Neetu at six. “But—”
He hangs up, leaving Simran with a sinking stomach. Hopefully she can finish fast and make it to Neetu’s just a little late.
Chandani descends her ladder with the last posters and jabs Simran’s arm. “I can’t believe this. I thought you were some kind of saint! Is this why you’ve been avoiding TJ? You don’t want her to know?”
She sounds gleeful. Simran blinks, still disoriented from her call. “What?”
“Don’t act all coy.” They’ve finished here, so they line their ladders up against the wall and set off to the admin building, where the next set of boards await. “You and Jassa flirt after every council meeting and you have another man on the side? ‘I need you tonight.’ Who’s Nick, bitch?”
Of course she overheard. “Nick is a friend from a community org,” Simran says as they walk outside into the May sun, passing a construction site. “They recently lost their bookkeeper, so I’m helping out. Also, me and Jassa don’t—”
“So this is what I have to do to get you to talk to me,” Chandani muses. “Ask about your love life. And here I was this whole time, trying to make our friendship pass the Bechdel test.”
Their friendship? “Neither of them are my—”
Chandani stops in place. “Speaking of men with a capital M. Oh my god.”
Simran follows her gaze, and stops, too. They’ve found themselves in front of the new dorm’s construction zone. And there’s a familiar figure on the unfinished landing above them.
Rajan’s got his hands hooked on the beam above his head, watching them, but.
..oh. Gone is his usual shapeless hoodie.
And in the light of day, there’s a lot on display.
Arms, is Simran’s most intelligent thought.
Gleaming-from-sweat, rich-brown-from-the-sun, sculpted-by-God kind of shoulders and arms. A black tattoo crawls up the side of his neck from under his white tank, the same as Nick’s.
She hastily drags her eyes away, but then she’s staring at the shirt, or rather the way it’s smudged with dirt and clinging to him, and those dark olive cargo pants, tucked into black work boots.
..She doesn’t know where to look at him. Everywhere seems obscene.
So she refocuses on his face, and the small grin unfurling on his mouth, in his eyes too, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking. He doesn’t call her out on it, though. “What’s up, Simran Sahiba?”
He takes off his hard hat, which has got to be against safety protocol. She has to think about safety protocol instead of the careless way he tucks his hat under his arm. She looks over his shoulder instead. “Hi, Rajan.”
She feels his gaze heavily before he turns his attention elsewhere. “Chandani. What’re you doing with my girl?”
Simran’s eyes jump back to him. He winks. Chandani, meanwhile, examines her fingernails. “Who’re you, again?”
“I can always remind you if you forgot,” Rajan says.
Simran blinks. This goes slightly beyond his usual flirtation. And Chandani—Simran glances her way—Chandani’s cheeks seem bright suddenly. Several clues slide into place. Didn’t Nick say Rajan was with some girl at his construction site? Some girl they confused with Simran? It couldn’t be—
“No thanks. You suck in bed,” Chandani snaps. Then she whips around and tries to steer Simran away. Simran, dazed, lets her. At least until Rajan calls to her.
“Simran Auntie. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She turns immediately. He’s still standing there, and all she can think about is him with Chandani and—things they might’ve been doing. “M-me?”
“Yeah, you. Come here.” He crooks his fingers at her.
“What the hell?” Chandani mutters, which spurs Simran to coherent speech.
“We volunteer together at Hillway House. That’s probably what this is about. I’ll meet you at the admin building.” She shakes Chandani off and marches over.
Rajan sits on the landing and jumps the rest of the way to the ground.
Then he straightens to full height. Simran’s never felt more childish next to him than right now, knowing this new information about him and Chandani.
It’s so strange knowing people her age casually do that sort of thing, while she has only a concept of it—
Rajan asks, “What did Nick say to you before I showed up that night?”
Simran stares. It’s been weeks since then. “Why?”
“Curious.” The flirting tone is gone. Her heart jumps. Something tells her this isn’t a random question. Somehow...he suspects.
She looks him in the eye. “He said they wanted you working for them again. That’s it.”
“And you haven’t heard from them since. Right?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Just making sure. They better not be bothering you, because I’ve been doing everything they asked lately.”
“What?”
Too late, she sees the trap, right after she’s said it. Rajan immediately steps closer. “Why is that so surprising? Of course I’m with them again. That was the whole point of them taking you. Wasn’t it?”
Her throat closes. “Yes, but...” Come on, Simran, think! “It’s stupid, but I was hoping they wouldn’t bother you again, anyway. I never wanted this for you.” She doesn’t have to fake her trembling voice. “What...What are you doing for them?”
He studies her. She keeps her chin lifted to maintain eye contact.
His height isn’t normally intimidating. The way he normally carries himself is so unintimidating that she forgets how tall he is.
But now she’s realizing he probably does that deliberately.
Of course he knows how to unnerve people when he wants to.
He speaks, low. “You’re good, dammit. You’re so good.”
Her heart thunders. “What are you talking about?”
“I dunno. What am I talking about?”
The ensuing silence is only broken when Chandani marches up and shoves Rajan away. “That’s enough.”
And just like that, his expression transforms. The dark veil over his eyes lifts, he’s smiling harmlessly, and he backs up. “Chill out. I was only asking a question.”
“Don’t chill out me,” Chandani retorts. “Look, you’ve scared her—”
That compels Simran to speak. “I’m fine. We were talking about the Hillway schedule. Let’s go, okay?”
Chandani allows herself to get tugged away after one last glare at Rajan. Simran, however, doesn’t dare look back. Did he figure it out? No. He couldn’t have.
“Okay, what’d he say?” Chandani asks once they’re out of earshot. “That was way too intense to be about scheduling.”
“Scheduling can get quite intense.”
“Bitch, be serious. Do you even know why he’s stuck doing community service? It’s disturbing.”
Even Chandani’s warning her off now? She can’t help herself. “Didn’t you sleep with him?”
“So?” Chandani raises her eyebrows. “He’s not the type you bring home to your parents. He’s the type you use to get over your bad-boy phase before he goes back to jail.”
Heat rises up Simran’s neck. “You don’t know that he’s going back to jail.”
“You’re right,” Chandani muses. “He might actually go to prison. Or die first. Who’s to say?” She sighs, seemingly not noticing Simran clutching the posters in a death grip. “Tragic, really. The boy really knows what he’s doing.”