Chapter Thirty-Eight
There’s a deep despondence wedged inside me when I get to the airport.
Krish is leaning on a pillar, hands pushed into his pockets. His Henleys have been replaced by white lightweight cotton T-shirts here. The shiny watch he used to acquire a motorcycle for us in New York catches the light, and a new backpack hangs on one shoulder. He straightens imperceptibly when his eyes find me.
If he asks me what’s wrong, I will snap his head off.
He doesn’t. He doesn’t take my bag from me or try to help. He simply waits for me to walk past him and falls in step next to me.
There’s a long line to get into the airport. Unlike at home, here, there’s a security screening to enter the airport building.
We’ve been standing in line in silence for a few minutes when Druv calls again.
“I feel like shit about what I said. I really am sorry,” he says.
“It means a lot that you’d say that. Thank you for understanding,” I say. Then I tell him I’m in line and have to go.
I shouldn’t look at Krish’s face, but I do. “What?” I ask because he’s avoiding my gaze and staring away into the distance with an odd expression. Actually, it’s not odd, it’s downright judgmental.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Words aren’t the only way to say something.”
“Let’s not do this. Not when you’re this upset.”
Wow. “I’m not upset.”
“I thought we didn’t lie to each other.”
I laugh. “Really? I thought we started out with you lying to me about why you were interested in the ring.”
It’s a mean thing to say. I shouldn’t have said it. Obviously, I understand why he didn’t tell me. What I don’t understand is this restless anger I’m filled with, and I can’t get myself to apologize.
“Why does it matter what I think?” he asks, and that same restless anger shines in his eyes.
Because it does. But I don’t say that out loud.
His eyes have a way of intensifying when he’s struggling to decide if he should say what he wants to say. I wish I hadn’t asked. I no longer want him to answer.
He does. “You talk to him like you’re talking to a stranger.”
I step back and into the person behind me. Lines in India aren’t like lines in America. The person behind me is inches from me. It’s a full-body collision. I apologize, and she steps back. She’s kind about it, but I feel trapped.
The line moves forward, and I move with it. Krish remains a step behind me, buying me space.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he says.
I nod. He shouldn’t have. And it’s not true.
We make our way through this security checkpoint in silence. Then once we’re inside, through a few more checkpoints. I try to focus on the fact that we live in a world where planes being blown up by bombs is a real thing and preventing it requires billions of dollars across the world. Hate is everywhere. Borders are supposed to make us feel safe, but they feed hate and make us less so. Life is fragile and safety tenuous at best.
I think about the fact that I left my mother in a state of rage. Krish lost his mother after having broken her heart and carries the pain of it every day. We’re looking for Vasu thirty-eight years too late. We have no way of knowing if she’s even alive. Krish might be about to lose another mother.
“How is your dad?” I ask when we make it to the gate area and find a corner to wait in.
My question seems to pull him out of his own spiral of thoughts. He looks surprised. I don’t know if it’s because I’m speaking to him again or because I asked about his father. Or both. “He’s great. I spoke to him for a long time last night after getting back to the hotel.”
“Did you tell him what we’re doing here?”
“Yes. He said he supports me in whatever I need to do. We apologized for not being there for each other after Mom’s accident. I told him no matter what I find, he and Mom will always be my parents. He said he knew. He said Mom knew.”
I have tears in my eyes. It’s a good thing we’re all the way in a corner and everyone is staring at their phones.
“Did you have a fight with your mother about going to Darjeeling?”
I nod. “I think she’s afraid I’m changing my mind about the life I want to live.”
“Mira,” he says, turning the full force of his sincerity on me, “do you want to change your mind about this? We haven’t boarded the plane. You can go back, and everything will be as it was.”
That’s what one part of me wants, more than anything. Another part knows that’s no longer possible. Nothing will ever be as it was. I don’t know if I want it to be. So much feels crystal clear inside me, and yet everything is somehow more tangled up.
“Is that what you want, Krish?”
“Isn’t it obvious what I want?” he asks, and I catch a wild yearning blazing in his eyes for the first time.
I want to look away, but I can’t. I’m reeling from shock but I’m also not.
No, this is not the first time I’m seeing it. I’ve just been trying not to see. He makes no effort to hide it now, and I feel like someone just pulled the floor from under me.
“I meant about Darjeeling,” I say with a firmness I want to feel. “Do you want me to go?”
He takes a breath, swallows back what he was about to say. “I want you to do what you need to do.”
“Krish! Do you want me to go to Darjeeling with you or not?”
“Yes,” he says too quickly and fiercely. “Even if it’s one last thing. I don’t want to do this by myself.”
“Then I’m coming.” Far too much relief blooms in his face. I feel that relief, too, all the way in my bones, and I don’t like it. “But my relationship with Druv is off limits.”
Just like that, the restless anger is back in his eyes. He doesn’t accept that immediately, and my restless anger returns too.
“Why?” he asks. “Why do you want to be there so bad? Why are you doing this?”
“You just asked me to.”
“So what? Why do you care?” There’s an almost harsh deliberateness to his words, and my irritation spikes so sharp and fast my heartbeat gallops in my chest. Never before I met him did my heartbeat, my pulse, all the beating parts of me react so riotously. Up, then down. Up, then down.
“Maybe because I’m a caring person. I care about things,” I say with all the frustration I’m feeling. “Even for people who glower at the world relentlessly and for no good reason.”
His jaw works. His eyes soften. Up, then down.
“What?” I say. It comes out a hiss.
“I can’t argue with that.” His answer is a whisper. How can someone so guarded and in control turn so vulnerable I can see all the way inside him? Absolutely nothing separates us.
Suddenly he straightens. An odd resolve tightens his body, his face. His expression is so intense I can hardly bear to look at him. “There is something else.”
I don’t want to hear it. Already, I want to erase this conversation. He gives me time to ask him not to say it. But I can’t get myself to.
“Since you’ve already accused me of being a liar, there is something else I’ve kept from you.”
This time my pulse slows. Time slows because our gazes are locked and there isn’t enough breath entering my lungs.
“I should have told you this earlier. I shouldn’t have waited so long to say it. I have a girlfriend. We’ve been together for a year.”
Pain lances through my heart. A knife slicing in and twisting. Turn around and leave, a voice inside me says. What do you care that he has a girlfriend? another voice says, but pain paralyzes me and pins me in place.
His lips press together. He takes a step away from me and raises a finger, pointing at my face, then at his heart. He opens his mouth but struggles with words. “That. How you just felt. That’s how I feel every time you say his name. There’s no one else in my life.”
Relief floods through me. He isn’t with anyone else. Then anger so violent I want to explode with it. Then shame. I’m getting married in a few months.
He’s breathing hard, seeing right through me. Why would he do this to me?
His hand goes to his temples and squeezes. “When we first met, you were right about me. All through my childhood I learned not to show my discomfort when I didn’t fit. Because I’ve never fit. Not until now. For the first time in my life, I fit. I fit in my skin, in this world, in my own discomfort. I’m not a stranger when you’re with me, Mira. And I’ve been a stranger to myself all my life.”
The silence that follows his words rings in my ears. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because it wouldn’t be fair for me to not say it before we get on that plane.”
“Krish, I can’t just flip my entire life over.”
For one second the words Why not? burn in his eyes.
He knows why not, just as much as I do.
“I don’t ever want you to do anything that feels like it’s flipping your life over.” I hate how articulate he is. How he doesn’t just throw words out without choosing each one carefully. Even more than that, I hate how much those words pierce me.
The gate agent calls boarding numbers over the PA system. People start scanning their boarding passes and moving toward the bus that will take us to our plane.
What do you want from me? I want to say, but I have nothing to give him. I don’t want to have anything to give him.
“I’m not asking for anything, Mira,” he says too gently. “I just had to tell you. It means nothing if you don’t want it to.” He hooks his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m going to board the plane. Take your time. If you choose to go with me, I will not take it to mean anything more than us finishing what we started. I will never do anything to make you uncomfortable. And if you choose not to come after what I just told you, I’ll understand.” With that he joins the line to board the bus and disappears through the sliding doors into the waiting crowd, leaving me to make my choice.