Chapter 9 #2
‘You were in the throes of shifting, babe, and I thought I’d tell you once you were here.’
Why was I making an excuse? It wasn’t like we spoke every day. We had been reduced to exchanging messages two to three times a year, birthdays mostly.
‘He’s doing his politics stuff?’ Meena asked.
‘Politics stuff?’ Chhaya’s laugh was a bark.
Watching her shift in her seat, it occurred to me that Meena was a creature of intent.
When we were growing up, I’d thought she was moody.
What she wanted to know, she took pains to get a clear understanding of, but the rest, she was hazy about.
She needed three to four promptings to answer a question like, Where are we meeting?
It would start with, ‘Someplace close by,’ to, ‘Oh, let me check if my driver is available,’ then, ‘Gosh, it’s so sunny,’ or, ‘I could’ve walked.
’ Then finally, she’d tell you where she would meet you.
God help you if you were in a hurry or it was not where you wanted to go.
‘Yeah, he’s the political editor,’ I said.
‘What’s the reaction been like?’ Chhaya asked. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask.’
‘You knew?’ Meena questioned Chhaya. ‘You guys meet often?’ she pressed, waving her index finger at us like we were a pair of errant six-year-olds.
Chhaya smiled.
‘Actually, you could say he’s doing his politics,’ I piped in. ‘His joining MH has shifted the balance somewhat, putting certain oldies on the ropes.’
Meena nodded. ‘I’ve been hearing he’s doing really well at work. I thought, initially, his shift from law to media was tame. Clearly, there’s money to be made in reporting, too.’
‘Journalism is his calling,’ Chhaya said. ‘I’ve read some of his work. He’s good.’
No one was contesting Andrew Brown, political analyst, but editor was a whole different game. A field without goalposts.
‘Editor? He’s just reporting, no?’ Meena asked.
‘He has an entire political team, some 40–45 reporters all over the country, reporting to him. That’s for now, but there is talk of him taking over as executive editor.’
‘Andrew Brown.’ She said his name and shrugged. They were a couple for an evening, a lifetime ago.
I noticed the growing flush on Meena’s cheeks. Not even the dim lighting could hide it.
I coughed; it was engineered.
I shut my eyes and recalled those words that had come down a telephone line seven summers ago.
Meena had told me that Andrew had hit on her, among others, after he had moved to the United States.
‘Sorry, Myra, he has moved on,’ she had told me.
‘Hopefully, I will not run into him here,’ Meena was now saying between gulps.
‘Why?’ Chhaya asked.
While I had relayed almost everything Meena had told me about Andrew, I hadn’t told Chhaya about Andrew flirting with Meena. That was hard to admit, even to myself.
‘You know.’ She shrugged. ‘What’s there to say to him?’
Chhaya’s lips twisted. She had caught on.
For most of the evening, Meena flaunted an ascendency that was typical of the woman I thought I knew. She was always in charge. In the last few minutes, however, I sensed a discomfort, an awkwardness.
‘He’s not really a nice guy,’ she said.
A nine-year-old’s summation of her bench mate.
‘You were lucky to be rid of him at that point. See how nicely settled in your job you are.’
Hornswoggled by a carnival barker. ‘Am I?’ I asked.
‘Of course, you are,’ she said. ‘You are doing damn well. Look at you!’ She was almost shrieking.
‘Andrew is a user. Every time we met, he made me pick up the tab,’ she continued.
Meena had told me they had met for a couple of coffees.
It came in random messages. I bumped into Andrew today.
We had a quick coffee. She would refuse to dwell on it even if I brought it up the next time she called.
I wasn’t sure if she was trying to protect me or if she was just being her selectively abstruse self.
‘Come on! It’s not much if he made you pay for a couple of coffees. He had just moved to the US, and he may not have been high on cash at the time,’ Chhaya said.
‘What coffee?’ Meena asked, her eyes sparking a fury I hadn’t seen in her before. ‘There were lunches and dinners almost every day for months and months.’
‘What?’ What was Meena talking about?
‘Yeah… You know how much he likes his drink; he didn’t hesitate to order that, too. And I was paying for everything.’
I was confused. Was the woman so drunk that she didn’t know what she was saying?
‘Are you drunk?’
‘Not at all. You don’t believe me? That I paid his bills? I even bought him an iPhone for his birthday. The same one with which he blocked me on WhatsApp…’
My head was reeling. I wanted to scream, What were you doing? Having all those lunches and dinners with my boyfriend? He wasn’t yet ex-boyfriend at the time, not in my head at least. I couldn’t spit the words out. They were sitting on my tongue, and my mouth was open.
‘What are you talking about, Meena?’ Chhaya asked.
Meena must have noticed the shift in mood. She was shaking her head. ‘Yeah,’ she said, smiling suddenly. ‘Let’s change the topic. Let’s not talk about that creep.’
‘But,’ I said, still in a daze, ‘what were you doing having all those lunches and dinners with him when he was the one who was hitting on you and you were ignoring him?’
‘You know how it works, hon.’
‘No, I don’t. Tell me.’
‘We were mates; it’s not like we were strangers. We had to meet. He was in a big city, and I tried to help him out. You know me; I’m the friendly, helpful sort.’
With every word Meena uttered, a layer of her mask was peeling off. It’s incredible what you see when you view people without spectacles powered by affection.
‘Why would you give him an expensive phone on his birthday? Why would he block you?’ The words came out of my mouth really slowly.
It was late now, and the bar was slowly emptying. Meena’s hand was on her knee; she looked like she was getting ready to get up.
‘How does all this matter now? You and Andrew are history.’
‘Were you and Andrew in a relationship in the US?’ I asked.
Meena blinked. ‘We were friends, we always were. Even when the two of you were dating.’
I was freaking out; my hands were shaking. ‘So you had a fight? A falling out?’
‘Listen, I’ll be very happy if we stop talking about Andrew. He’s nothing to me, and hopefully, nothing to you. It was an ugly chapter in my life, and if you must know, he chased me, relentlessly. I was fobbing him off because I knew how deeply you felt for him.’
‘But you bought him an iPhone…’ Chhaya said. I think she was screaming, too.
‘He asked me to buy it for him.’
‘Low maintenance! Buy me a Jag!’
Nothing of what Meena was saying was making any sense to me.
Andrew had chased her, hit on her.
They met for countless lunches and dinners.
She gifted him an expensive phone; he blocked her on WhatsApp.
‘Why?’ I asked the question.
Meena lowered her head and looked directly at me. ‘My relationship with Andrew is mine; yours is separate. If you have any questions, you ask him,’ she said.