Chapter 24
Simran sits hunched over her desk, half dressed in jeans and a pajama top, crumpling up another idea that’s gotten her nowhere. She tosses it in her overflowing wastebasket.
Every night for the past week, she’s stayed up until sunrise with the Aces’ code.
Her father thinks all her time at her desk is spent getting ahead of coursework.
Her mother, however, has barely noticed.
She’s been in a lot of pain since returning home from her surgery a few days ago.
Speaking of...Simran should probably check on her before she leaves.
Sighing, she selects a random T-shirt from her closet. TJ’s dinner is tonight, and although a large part of her wants to ignore it, she already slept through kirtan practice with Neetu today. Besides, she promised TJ. So the cipher will have to wait.
After rebraiding her hair, she knocks on her parents’ bedroom door. “Mom? I’m going out for a bit.” No answer. Simran pushes inside. “Mom?” The bed is unmade; the adjoining bathroom door is open. Simran peeks through, and her heart stops.
Her mom is hunched over the side of the toilet.
Simran skids to her side, trying not to panic. “What’s going on?” There’s vomit in the bowl. “When did this start?”
Her mother only gags, lurching for the toilet again. Simran instinctively holds her hair back, the once-shiny waves a mass of greasy tendrils. Is this supposed to be normal? “I’ll get the pain meds.”
“I don’t need them.”
“Mom—”
“I used to hate my womb, you know.” Her mom lifts her head from the bowl, her face flushed and sweaty. “It wouldn’t help me. I’d almost given up on it when you came along.” She hiccups. “I made you in there. And now it’s gone.”
Simran doesn’t know what to say. She’d never considered her mother might be attached to the organ that was trying to kill her. And when she hiccups again, this time sounding suspiciously like a sob, Simran makes a decision. Forget her plans, forget the cipher. “Let’s go to the ER.”
At the mention of the ER, her mother’s entire demeanour changes. She sits up. “No. I’m fine.”
“Mom, you’re throwing up.”
“So?” She sniffs, somehow regal despite grasping a toilet for support. “It’s good. I’m getting rid of toxins.”
Simran would laugh if she weren’t scared. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”
“I thought you had plans today.”
So she did hear. “It—doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving you like this.”
“Yes, you are.” Her mother wipes her mouth, sounding more lucid. “Your father will be home soon. Go. Or are you just looking for a reason to be late? Is it so painful to be on time for once?”
Despite herself, Simran smiles. “Maybe a little.”
Her mother smiles too and pinches her cheek. Maybe it’s like Kiran said—she just likes being dramatic. And it’s with that reassuring thought, and the knowledge that her dad will be home in a few minutes, that Simran finally departs with a kiss to her mother’s forehead.
When Simran rings the doorbell of TJ’s house, TJ’s mom opens it, wearing a button-down cardigan and slacks, her black hair curling loosely around her shoulders. She’s much younger than Simran’s mom, and she looks it. When she sees Simran, she blinks in surprise.
“Sat Sri Akaal, Masi ji,” Simran says.
“Simran!” TJ’s mom recovers quickly. “It’s been too long. Come in, have chah?”
Her question hangs in the air. Despite the warm welcome, Simran senses the tense undercurrent. She doesn’t want Simran around, tonight of all nights, when TJ’s bringing her boyfriend home. She’s hoping Simran’s only here to run a quick errand.
No such luck. “Sure, Masi ji. I thought I’d come see TJ. She just arrived, right?” She holds out the container of ras malai she bought on her way. No one can say Simran doesn’t fully invest in her scams. “But if now’s not a good time...”
Simran can practically see her aunt’s ingrained manners battling her panic. “No, no, of course! It’s just—we’re expecting a guest very soon.”
Simran widens her eyes. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before coming. I’ll come tomorrow.” She turns to leave. Three, two, one—
“No!” her masi practically shouts. “No, of course you should come in.”
Simran turns, the picture of contrition. “Are you sure? It isn’t a big deal—”
“You must come in.”
With a helpless shrug that suggests this was all her aunt’s idea, Simran strolls inside. Her masi sighs behind her. Simran bites back a smile. If nothing else, playing this role is at least an amusing diversion.
Her amusement ends when her masi says, “How’s your mom?”
Simran takes her shoes off. “Fine, why?”
“I heard she hasn’t been attending events lately.” When Simran gives her a surprised look, she shrugs. “We have some mutual friends. I just wondered...She’s okay, right?”
Something in her voice is less than casual. It reminds Simran that she and her aunt were both raised by the same woman.
Simran faces her. “Yes, she’s okay.”
Her masi’s face breaks into relief. “Good. Good.”
That relief twists Simran’s gut with jealousy. She wishes she could tell the truth. She wishes she could drag her masi out of her peace. Then, at least, Simran wouldn’t have to endure this alone.
TJ’s dad appears in the doorway. There are bags under his eyes from his night-shift work, but he smiles at her. Simran automatically slides back into socializing mode, going to hug him. “Are you on your way to work, Massar ji?”
“Uh, no.” He exchanges a glance with his wife. “We’re having a guest.”
Simran looks between them, smiling guilelessly. “Really? Who?”
Her masi seems to panic and glances at the staircase. “TJ!” she yells. There’s a note of strain in it.
A moment later, footsteps run down the stairs. Simran would recognize those bounding footfalls anywhere. And despite herself, a real smile pulls at her mouth as she turns to face her.
Her cousin TJ always brims with energy, and today is no different.
She barely comes to a halt on the last stair, her brown eyes sparkling.
Her dark hair is tossed up into a messy bun.
She’s dressed in a form-fitting black sweater, jeans, and simple makeup.
She and Simran don’t look much alike—aside from how hairy they both are. Those genes are very strong.
“Simran!” TJ hops off the last stair. Simran steps right into her perfumed embrace.
“I missed you,” her cousin murmurs, leaning her fuzzy cheek against Simran’s equally fuzzy one, and Simran finds herself relaxing into it.
They rock from foot to foot, and for some reason, tears prick at Simran’s eyes.
She missed being hugged like this. Tightly, carefree, as much a comfort to her as it is to the other.
By the time TJ steps away, Simran has pulled herself together. She clears her throat. “I heard you’re having guests. I can come back later.”
TJ jumps up and down as if they haven’t rehearsed this. “No! This is perfect. It’s Charlie. He’d love to see you. I think he misses having you in all his student council stuff. How long has it been?”
“At least since graduation.”
TJ’s dad parts the window curtains and squints; headlights hit his face. “Does he drive a sedan?”
“Dad,” TJ groans. “Get away from the window.” She looks at Simran, pitching her voice low. “See what I’m dealing with?”
“Want me to say a prayer?”
TJ smacks her arm. There’s a knock on the door, and TJ freezes. She and her parents stare at it like they’re in a horror movie and the killer has found them. After a moment, Simran goes to open the door herself. “Hi, Charlie.”
Charlie stands in the doorway bearing a bouquet of flowers.
He blinks; clearly, he wasn’t told to expect her.
But then he gives her a warm, wide smile.
It strikes her that he looks older now. High school really is behind them.
But his brown hair is parted in his familiar neat style, and he’s dressed in a navy button-down and white chinos—always erring on the side of formal.
“Simran. Haven’t heard from you in a while. ”
“Sorry. I got busy.” It’s true she doesn’t text anymore. Charlie’s too close to TJ—and apparently gets his phone stolen by her a lot—for Simran to risk it. “I hear you’re here for dinner.”
“Yes. You should stay, if you can. We need to catch up.”
He might just be acting polite, but Simran doesn’t think so.
Their countless caucuses between council meetings in high school led to an inevitable friendship.
It’d sure be nice to have a friend on council these days.
She’s missed him, she realizes right then.
She’s missed a lot while she was shutting everyone out.
“Of course.” Simran opens the door wider, revealing TJ and her parents behind her. “This is a family event.”
Simran has to hand it to Charlie. He does everything right.
He never once implies his relationship with TJ is anything but platonic.
He sits on the opposite end of the table, next to Simran and TJ’s dad.
He barely even speaks to TJ directly. If you didn’t know better, you might think she and Charlie were just acquaintances, although Simran does catch them having prolonged staring contests when the parents are otherwise distracted.
Simran suspects he and TJ had a lengthy strategic meeting prior to this dinner. Particularly to prep for the seemingly innocuous questions about his career goals and family background. He handles them all well. Charlie’s always been good at making people feel comfortable.
As the conversation continues to flow easily, she grows restless. What was TJ worrying about, anyway? Simran isn’t needed here. She could be working on the cipher right now—there’s only hours left to solve it.