Hello??
***
Iflip through the dessert menu in front of me and jab at it.
“Mango cheesecake. I need it,” I declare, grinning at Irsia who sits across from me, spooning the risotto she ordered for lunch. Between her work and my random schedule at the shelter, it’s been a while since we’ve had uninterrupted girl-time together.
“You’re not even done with your meal,” she comments, chewing the large mushroom she bites into. My cooling plate of gnocchi stares at me, the red sauce not quite as vibrant as the one served by a green-eyed man who’s ensnared my every waking thought.
I push the half-eaten plate away. “I’ve had better.”
“Oh yeah? Where?”
“Just. . . somewhere else,” I hedge. “I’m glad we’re spending time together this weekend. You’ve been really busy.”
Irsia looks guilty. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around, Aloo.”
“Don’t be, not at all.” I reach over to squeeze her arm. “I’m glad you have your photography to keep you occupied.”
“And you?” she asks.
Like it’s running a loop it will never tire of, my mind turns once more to Cal. “I’ve been picking up more shifts at the animal shelter. Helping them organize an adoption event, actually.”
“Do you see yourself working there long-term?”
“No,” I sigh. “I need to decide if I’ll be staying in Monterey or moving back to Mumbai.”
She stills, unblinkingly staring at me. “You’re leaving?” she asks, shocked.
“Amma and Baba keep asking me to come back. They’re worried I’m alone.”
“Butwe’rehere,“ she says, mildly outraged. “Your family is here.”
“How long can I live with you? I have a marketing degree I could leverage to find work there,” I reason, even as the pit in my belly gapes into a hollow hole.
“You could find work here with that degree, too.”
“Maybe.” I shrug, not wanting to discuss this. It’s too hard, and I’m still in limbo, unsure what the right move is.
“Leaving Mumbai didn’t fix your problems before. Leaving Monterey won’t make things better either.”
“You don’t know that,” I protest, even though I know she’s right to call me out. I’ve run away once. Do I really want to do that again?
“How much longer do I have you for, then?” Irsia’s sadness isn’t hidden and the lump in my throat makes it hard to speak.
“I’m not leaving just yet. I don’t have a job to go back to, but I’m going to start applying.”
“Give me time to prepare myself, okay?”
“Prepare yourself for what?” I ask, brows lowering.
“To live alone.” She says it simply, like it is inevitable. The resignation on her face makes my heart ache. Before I can reach out to console her, she straightens and clears her throat.
“I’m going to stop by the washroom before dessert.”
She escapes and I watch her curly hair bounce as she disappears into the hallway where the washrooms are. I know she’s looking for space to collect herself. Every so often, when I least expect it, I get a glimpse of her grief and it never fails to remind me that my problems, in comparison, are trivial.
She lost her husband. I only lost deadweight.