by Mona Shroff
“And your answering Samantha’s questions for me helps how?” Maya directed her last bit of anger and fear at her best friend. “Thanks for nothing.” That wasn’t what she was doing to Samantha, was it? She opened her mouth to speak again, but just then—the doorbell rang. It was Ami’s husband, Ajay, come to claim his wife. Ami and Ajay had been high school sweethearts, so Maya had known him most of her life.
Ajay entered just as Ami polished off the last samosa. “Ahh...there she is.” He was tall and lean, and he currently wore a T-shirt stained with baby food. He approached Ami with a grin so filled with affection, it warmed Maya’s heart, and she wondered if this was how Sam had looked at her. She squashed the thought before she even finished it.
Ajay bent down and kissed his wife’s cheek. “Drunk as a skunk. Just how I like her.” He grinned at Maya. “I thought she was supposed to get you drunk?”
Maya shrugged her shoulders and went over to hug Ajay. Ami’s words had opened a pit in her stomach. “She tried, bhaiya.” If Ami was like a sister to her, Ajay was as close to a big brother as Maya ever had, and she called him bhaiya with all the respect and affection that the word implied. She wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her head in his chest, relishing a moment of serenity in her “brother’s” arms. “But you know how she loves a good dirty martini. Or three.”
Ajay’s bear hug calmed her stomach, but Ami’s words still nagged at her. Ajay pulled back and grinned at Maya. “So, the baby daddy is back, huh?” He chuckled, dodging Maya’s smack, but she landed a blow on his arm. He wrinkled his brow, feigning pain, his demeanor all innocence. “What?” He made a show of cracking his knuckles. “Isn’t it my job to kick his—”
“Yes, yes, you’re very macho, sweetheart.” Ami rolled her eyes and waved at Maya and Ajay to get their attention. She fixed Maya firmly with her gaze. “You think about what I said.” She turned to her husband. “Take me home, honey. I think we’ve both done enough damage here for one night.”
Maya helped her friend to the door. She playfully narrowed her eyes at Ajay as she gently punched his arm again. “Behave!”
Ajay bent down to kiss her cheek. “I think I can take him.”
Maya rolled her eyes at him as she reached over to give Ami a hug. Ami whispered in her ear, “It was a great plan.”
Maya chuckled, her anger gone. “It sure was.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
MAYA
Maryland, 1996
“IS THAT YOU, SAM?” A familiar—yet unwelcome—voice screeched at them, as Maya sat holding hands with Sam on the bleachers while they waited for his team to arrive for training. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re with her now?”
Maya cringed as Bridget made her way toward them. Sam swore under his breath as he turned to face his ex-girlfriend. “Hey, Bridget. What’s going on?”
“What’s going on?” Bridget sounded incredulous as she stopped in front of Sam and glared at them both. She flicked her eyes toward Maya but did not address her. She leaned into Sam. “Why haven’t you returned my calls?”
“I told you, Brig, it’s over. It’s been over two months since we broke up. Look, we had a great time, but—”
“But now you’re with her.” She glared at Maya.
“Goodbye, Bridget.” Sam placed his hand on Maya’s knee, as if to protect her from Bridget’s mean-girl vibe. His voice was firm and, for the first time, unkind.
“Look, I’ve been calling you because—” She flicked her eyes toward Maya, and Maya was surprised to see tears.
“Why don’t I take a walk?” Maya grabbed her purse and started to get up. She didn’t need to sit here. Sam grabbed her hand.
“No. It’s all right. Whatever Bridget has to say, she can say with you here. I’m not hiding anything.”
Maya sat back down next to Sam and entwined her fingers with his. Whatever Bridget had to say, it wasn’t going to be good. Tall and slim with bouncy blond hair, bright blue eyes and legs that went up to here, Bridget was classically beautiful. Not for the first time, Maya wondered why Sam would give up Bridget for her.
Right now, though, Bridget looked like she was going to cry. Sam did not reach out to comfort her.
“Whatever, Sam.”
“Spill it, Bridget.”
Bridget spoke, her voice thick with tears. “I’m late.”
Silence, as the two of them soaked up this information. Maya’s heart thumped hard against her chest, before it fell into her stomach. Bridget thought she was pregnant? With Sam’s baby?
Sam released Maya’s fingers, and his expression softened. “What? But how...we were—” He seemed to remember Maya was sitting next to him and stopped abruptly.
Great.
“Nothing’s 100 percent, Sam.” Bridget sniffled.
He tensed and turned away from Maya, leaning toward Bridget. “Did you take a test?”
Bridget flicked her eyes in Maya’s direction, then back to Sam. “No.”
Sam shook his head, visibly relaxing. “Well, maybe do that before you freak out.”
A tear escaped Bridget’s eye, and Maya looked away. It felt invasive to watch her struggle.
“I’m scared, Sam.” Her voice cracked, and she continued, her speech getting louder by the second. “What if I am? I don’t have time for this right now—my parents will be pissed. What if I have to drop out of school?”
“Hey, hey calm down.” Sam stood and held her arms. Maya’s heart dropped even as she saw green. “Brig, it’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.” His words were hushed, as if he didn’t want Maya to hear. She turned her head away to give them a semblance of privacy. She felt like an outsider, and that’s what she was.
“Take the test, and see what it says before you freak out.” He dropped his voice further, but Maya could still hear. “We were always careful—I’m sure you’re fine.”
Maya did not care to be reminded about the fact that Sam had slept with other girls. He was hers now. At the same time, it couldn’t be easy facing an unwanted pregnancy. Maya waffled between jealousy of and sympathy toward Bridget.
She heard Bridget sniffle again, and Sam murmured words of comfort before saying goodbye. Maya turned her head back in time to see Bridget descend the bleachers.
Sam sighed and shook his head, as he sat down next to Maya and took her hand in his again. “It’s always some kind of drama with her.”
“Drama? You think a pregnancy scare is drama?”
“No, I think true pregnancy is something to deal with. But right now, she just wants attention. Let her take the test. Besides, I’m always careful.”
There was that “always” again. Exactly how many girls had there been? “What about us?”
Sam grinned and leaned in closer to Maya, all the gentleness and warmth that she loved so much, restored. “We are different.” She felt his breath on her. “We belong to each other.” His lips met hers and everything made sense. He loved her. She put Bridget out of her mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SAM
New York, 2012
SAM HAD BEEN waiting in the Manhattan café for twenty minutes. He walked outside and to the corner and back. No sign of Samantha.
Maya’s return was conjuring up all kinds of suppressed memories. Like how he had wanted to open his own practice and help people in the community. He remembered the conversation with his parents. His father had been supportive, as expected, and his mother had been wary, but she had seemed to come around. But when Maya had left, and his mother was diagnosed with cancer, her one request had been for him to continue along his original path. He was her only remaining son, she liked to remind him—it was his duty. What choice did he have?
He hadn’t given any real thought to his dreams in years. Sure, he took on the occasional case his father mentioned, and yes, he pretended that those cases distracted him from his real
job, but the reality was that those cases made him feel like he was making a difference, like he was making good use of his life.
He checked the time on his phone. Samantha had reached out to him for this lunch. It was today, right? He checked his calendar. He called her. Straight to voice mail. He left a message. Shoved the phone back into his coat pocket.
Sam paced the block again and peeked inside the café. Nothing. He pulled out his phone. Nothing. He started to scroll, looking for Maya’s number. Not that it would help—she hadn’t answered or returned any of his calls all week.
“Don’t call my mom. I’m here.”
Sam sighed in relief and turned toward the sound of Samantha’s voice. “You came. I was getting worried.”
Samantha shrugged. “Are we eating or what?”
“Sure.” Sam eyed her warily and opened the door. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah, great.”
They found a table by the window and ordered food.
“Since you’re here I take it you believe me?”
“Yes.” Something about her softened just then. “I asked Ami-masi, and she told me that you had no idea Mom was pregnant. And that she broke up with you.”
“That is true.”
“She really dumped you?” It seemed hard for her to believe. Well, that made two of them.
Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat and bit into his sandwich to avoid her eyes. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said—she said she didn’t love me anymore.” Why was it still so hard to say those words?
“Did you believe her?”
“At the time, yes. She was very convincing.”
“That sucks.” She pursed her lips and cocked her head.
Sam smiled. “Yes, it did.”
Samantha looked at him with what could only be sympathy and sighed deeply.
“What did your mom say when you told her you were meeting me?”
“Not much.” Samantha had a sudden interest in her food.
“You didn’t tell her.” He was harsher than he meant to be. “How’d you get my number?”
She rolled her eyes. “Mom’s phone, duh.” And there was the famous Rao sass. “Did you tell Paige?”
“No, but I’m not a teenage girl secretly meeting a man, father or no. You have to tell her.” Sam tried to stare her down. “Or I will.”
Samantha took a bite of her sandwich in response. No sooner did Samantha take one bite than she started making a clicking sound with her tongue. Her eyes widened, and she started rummaging through her bag.
“What?” Alarm bells went off in Sam’s head.
“I’m allergic...” She coughed and looked dizzy.
Sam didn’t think. He grabbed her backpack and began rummaging through it. Phone charger, phone case, lipstick, books, all the contents of a teen backpack were pushed to the floor so Sam could locate the EpiPen.
“Dad.” At the thickness in her speech, Sam’s heart pounded. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that she’d just called him “Dad,” but he’d never felt more unprepared for that role than now. He unzipped all the compartments and unceremoniously dumped the contents of her backpack. Hands shaking, he sifted through her belongings, the action calming his own mounting panic.
He finally located the EpiPen and showed it to Samantha for verification. Her eyes half closed, she nodded. He leaped to her side and nearly knocked over his chair in his haste. He opened the case and rammed the needle into her thigh.
“Samantha. Samantha. Talk to me!” He pulled her close, helpless to steady his own hands or slow the rapid thudding in his chest.
“Sir? Sir!”
Sam looked up at the employee addressing him.
“We’ve called an ambulance. Is there anything else we can do to help?”
“No. Thank you.” Sam pulled Samantha closer. She was conscious, but her breathing was labored.
The employee squeezed his arm. “Your daughter will be fine.”
Sam could only nod his gratitude. How quickly he adapted to that term.
“So sorry, sir. But we didn’t know she had an allergy. She didn’t mention it.”
Sam nodded his acknowledgment. He hadn’t known, either. How could he? Even in his fear for Samantha’s life, his anger toward Maya built. If he’d had the chance to raise his daughter, he’d have known about her allergy, and about so much more. He grabbed his phone to call her. She did not pick up. He used Samantha’s phone. Maya picked up on the first ring.
“Samantha, where are you?”
“Maya, it’s Sam.”
“Sam? Why do you have Samantha’s phone?”
“She’s here with me. We met for lunch.”
“You what? Behind my back?”
He ignored that. “Maya, she had an allergic reaction.”
“Oh, God! Is she all right? Were you with her?”
“Yes, I’m here. I used the EpiPen. Listen, the paramedics just got here. Meet us at the hospital.” Sam paused in a valiant attempt to steady his voice. “Maya,” his voice cracked, “she’s breathing, but I don’t know...” He’d only just found his daughter. Losing her was not an option.
“Yeah, okay. I’m coming.”
As he climbed into the back of the ambulance, his phone buzzed. A text from Maya. How does she look?
He looked over at Samantha and smiled. A feeble attempt at hiding the new and terrible fear that found a home in the pit of his stomach. Samantha’s skin was pale—no sign of that creamy hue right now—but she was breathing, albeit with an oxygen mask on. She smiled back at him. He turned to the EMT. “How is she?”
The EMT raised his eyebrows. “She’ll be fine. We’ll be at the hospital in five minutes. Try to relax, Dad.” The EMT turned back to his patient to check her vitals. “Every girl deserves a superhero dad.”
Samantha nodded her head in agreement. Sam couldn’t have felt less like a superhero if he’d tried.
Sam’s phone buzzed again. Maya. Sam???
He responded right away. They say she’ll be fine. Be at the hospital in five.
K. See u there.
He found a place to sit where he could hold Samantha’s hand. It was as much for him as it was for her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MAYA
New York, 2012
MAYA OPTED TO take the subway to the hospital, since Raju-kaka was with a fare. This way, she could also keep her mother at the coffee shop and not have to deal with Sunita’s distaste for Sam. But the train seemed to be moving slower than usual, so Maya paced. She was getting some stares, but she barely noticed, and out of the many things that occurred on New York City subways, nervous pacing was pretty benign.
This had happened once before when Samantha was about six. There had been cashews in something she’d eaten at a birthday party, and her tongue had begun to swell within a minute. There had been no time for panic. At that time, Maya had been there, and had that EpiPen out and had injected her daughter within seconds. Panic hadn’t set in until later, when she’d had Samantha at the hospital and out of danger. Sam might be in that spot right now.
But, seriously, what was he doing with her, anyway? Maya had tried to make it abundantly clear that Sam was to forget about them and return to his life. She didn’t want or need anything from him more than the phone calls he had already made. He didn’t seem to like taking no for an answer any more than Samantha did.
Maya rushed into the emergency room, bringing the cold air with her. She sent Sam a text while she impatiently waited her turn at the intake desk and was finally directed to Samantha’s room. The door was open, but the curtain was closed, and she was about to walk in when she caught snippets of their conversation.
Sam’s low rumble sent a jolt though her body. “You play soccer?”
“Yeah, I was starti
ng keeper three years in a row.” Samantha was clearly happy to talk to Sam about something she was proud of.
“Was?”
“Um, yeah. I’m not playing this year.” Her disappointment was obvious, and Maya felt a pang. She’d had to make that choice for Samantha. With the tuition at this new private school, Maya couldn’t afford the soccer fees.
“Why not?” Sam asked.
“Oh... I’m just super busy with school.” Guilt stabbed Maya at hearing her daughter lie. “But I saw your soccer awards online.”
A beat passed before Sam responded. “Yeah, I guess you did. I played some. Was a decent keeper back in the day.” He laughed.
He started a conversation about keeper strategy, and he and Samantha were soon speaking a language that, while familiar, Maya did not understand. Much like hearing an old song on the radio could take you back to a moment in time, so did the sound of youthfulness in Sam’s voice. Maya’s thoughts were flooded with images of concerts and picnics and stolen kisses.
She suppressed those past images, which were better off forgotten, and stepped into the room, opening the curtain. Sam cleared his throat and stood as he stepped back from the bed. Upon seeing Maya, his expression turned grim, his eyes wary. Sam’s suit jacket had been tossed across a chair with his tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing corded muscles. Maya chided herself for even noticing his muscles at a time like this.
“Hi, Mom,” Samantha said apprehensively. She knew she was busted.
Maya walked in and addressed her daughter first. “You okay?”
“Yeah—the hidden cashew again. In the nut butter. I forgot to ask.” She rolled her eyes, and followed it with a torrent of words. “Are you mad? Don’t be mad. I know I should have told you I was meeting him, but I just knew if I asked, you would say no. And I wanted to meet with him—he is my dad.”
