“There was a vote that day,” Nikhil says. “Proposed budget cuts for WIC.”
And now my memory sharpens, the picture coming into focus. I remember that day. I remember being absolutely fueled by anger. This country already lacks a true social safety net, leaving so many to suffer, to fend for themselves. And instead of strengthening the few programs we have, these individuals were trying to cut them further. Cuts that would harm real people.
I couldn’t help but think of my sister. My sister, who may not have had the support of our community but had had the support of my parents, and thanks to them, some financial resources. But even with that, she had suffered so much. I was all too aware of the many people who didn’t have that kind of support to rely on. WIC doesn’t solve everything. It’s not perfect. There are still too many hurdles and hoops for people to jump through before receiving the benefits.But it’s one of the only federal programs aimed at supporting pregnant people and young children, and my interest that day wasn’t driven only by the fact that I had a job to do. It felt personal.
“I remember,” I tell Nikhil. “I remember that day. But you weren’t…”
“I was there,” he says. “And I saw you. You were wearing a blazer. Dark gray. I’d never seen you wear one before. And you were arguing with someone. I wasn’t close enough to hear what you were saying, but this guy must have been twice your age. Possibly more. And he was listening. And I could just see it. I could see the exact moment you had him. The subtle shift in his face. In his posture.
“I was so proud of you, Meena. I was bursting with it. I was going to come up to you. Going to tell you how amazing that was, and then you did it again. Confronting someone else. And then another person. And another.”
“They didn’t all change their minds,” I say.
“No, buthedid. The first guy. I saw it. I watched the vote. You were probably there, seeing it in person, but I was sitting outside, watching it all on my phone. The C-Span feed was slow and buffering, but I saw his vote. And the end result. You won.”
“It wasn’t just me. There were a lot of people who worked on—”
“But you made a difference,” he says, a bit of wonder in his voice. “I…I’d never really understood it all before. The things you wanted to do. I mean, I’d heard you talk about it. I knew you were passionate. I knew it meant a lot to you. And I’d admired it, but still, I just…I had no clue.”
My reality is shifting. I can’t make sense of it all. That the narrative of us is different from what I’d thought it was. That Nikhil hadn’t just accepted it when I left. That he hadn’t just let me go. He’d tried to come after me. Except…
“Why didn’t I see you? Why would you come all that way and not talk to me?”
“Because I couldn’t.” His words are raw. Hoarse. “How could I? What could I say? What could I offer you?” He waves a hand around him. “This? A house in the suburbs? Far away from everything you wanted. Far away from the thing you were meant to do?”
“You could have come when I’d asked. You could have—”
“You didn’t want me there! And once I got there, once I saw what you were doing, I understood why. What could I, where would I— I wouldn’t have fit into any of that.”
“I wanted you there. I wanted you there with me. How could you think I wouldn’t—”
“Youleft. You asked me to move, gave me barely any time to decide, and then youleft. You left for your job. You left for something better. You left because Plan A was finally an option. And you didn’t need Plan B anymore.”
“And what exactly was Plan B, Nikhil?”
He shakes his head. “Me. This. It was always temporary for you. Something to do. A way to bide your time until what you really wanted came along.”
I suck in a breath. He…he really thinks the worst of me. He really thinks of me as some heartless user who just took and took and took from him. Who disposed of him when I didn’t need him anymore.
“You’re wrong,” I say. “I never thought of any of it that way. Never. I left because you didn’t want to come with me.”
His mouth opens, but I quickly continue. “Youdidn’t,Nikhil. You knew my plan was always to move there, to work there, but every time I dropped hints about it…you shut down. You made it clear you didn’t want to talk about it. That day I asked you to move…that was me putting it all on the line. And I felt so guiltyabout it. You’d already sacrificed so much, done so much to support me, and I didn’t want you to have to leave Houston or this home—Iknew how much it meant to you. At one point…I even looked for work here. I tried to think about a way to stay, but nothing was close to the job in D.C.”
His eyes grow wide. “Meena—”
“But I still asked, Ibegged,because I was desperate. I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to move without you. But…maybe it wasn’t right to ask you to come with me, to leave everything behind. Maybe I shouldn’t have expected that. Maybe…I asked for too much.”
“You didn’t,” he says immediately, his voice low and firm. “I would have come. If I’d known this was how you felt…” He swallows, looking down. “There was nothing here that was holding me back. My job, this house…None of it mattered to me the way you did. But I was…I was so convinced you didn’t want me. I thought you were looking for an excuse to end things. A way to let me down gently.”
My eyes prick, tears forming at the corners. “If I knew you were in D.C., if I’d known you’d come, if I’d justseenyou—”
“I wanted to tell you I was there,” he says. “But when I saw you working…it suddenly seemed so selfish. I thought you wanted—that youneeded—someone different, someone who would understand your life there and your work, someone who could help you with it.”
Someone like Shake.
I mentally flinch.
“I didn’t think you wanted me,” Nikhil continues. “And I didn’t want to try to change your mind. I didn’t want you to have to…settle for me when you could have something else.”