by Mona Shroff
“Hi.” She tucked the hair back as she stepped aside, avoiding his eyes.
“Hi.” Sam stepped in and followed her up the steps, doing his best to ignore the traces of honeysuckle that floated back to him. “How’s Samantha doing?”
She opened another door, and the honeysuckle was replaced by the warm scent of that orange coffee he remembered so well. “Oh, she’s fine. She’s resilient.” Maya ducked into the kitchen as he stepped in and automatically slipped off his shoes. “I made coffee—this is the only coffee I had. Don’t read too much into it.”
Sam looked around the apartment. Samantha—his daughter!—was growing up here. Maya had grown up here, too. A sectional sofa took up much of the small space, along with an easy chair and some lamps.
A coffee table in the middle was piled with photo albums. The walls were covered with pictures of Samantha and her many awards. Framed newspaper clippings about the bakery were scattered here and there. Closer inspection revealed how the bakery had evolved to include the gourmet coffee roastery it had today. An open doorway behind him led to the kitchen, and a short hallway to his left led to the bedrooms.
Sam tossed his overcoat and suit jacket on the armchair and glanced down that hallway. The door to the master was partway open, which left Maya’s unmade bed visible. Sam quickly looked away and occupied himself with the nearest framed picture of his daughter. She was very young in the photo, but he could see himself in her even then. His heart grew heavy.
Maya came up behind him. “She’s about fifteen months here.”
His pressed his lips together, unable to even force a smile. “Yeah.”
She handed him a mug of coffee and moved to the sofa. “Come sit.” She set her coffee on the table and motioned for Sam to join her.
Sam set his jaw and sat beside Maya on the sofa. He put his coffee down without taking a sip. Maya looked at him sideways, and then reached across him for one of the albums. His body stiffened. She smelled of honeysuckle and cinnamon and something he remembered as distinctly Maya. She opened an album and handed it to Sam.
“I thought you might want to see some of Samantha’s baby pictures or videos.” Maya glowed and began flipping through the pages.
“This is the day she was born.” The scene was in a hospital room: a ragged and spent Maya holding an infant Samantha.
The fresh-faced young girl in the photo was the Maya from his youth. Sam closed his eyes against the memory of this girl defiantly proclaiming that she had never loved him.
Sam nodded, tightening his lips as he returned to the past. Maya and her mother had documented Samantha’s upbringing well. Each page was colorful, painstakingly arranged with clever captions and important date stamps.
Maya turned the page and continued to narrate. “Maya.” He cut her off. “Could I just look through them?” He didn’t even bother to keep his tone gentle.
She appeared a bit taken aback. “Oh, sure.” She fidgeted for a moment, before handing the album to Sam. “Of course.” He sat back in the sofa, crossed one ankle over the other knee and returned his attention to the album.
Samantha was two in the next few photos. Curly dark hair, light brown skin, her smile all chubby cheeks and scrunchy nose, Sam grinned at the wonder she was, even then. A few pages later she was five, her first day of kindergarten in a school uniform, her dark brown eyes alight with excitement. Sam skipped a page or two and suddenly she was seven, in a soccer uniform. Her curly, dark hair was tied up in a bushy ponytail. She was wearing a keeper jersey. Sam’s agitation grew.
“She played soccer since she was this little?” Sam’s voice was abrupt. “Is it true, why she’s not playing? That she’s too busy to play?”
“Um, no.” Maya flushed. “She started at this new high school.” She hesitated, but then met his gaze. “She’s on partial scholarship there, but still, the tuition—” she put one hand out, palm up “—versus the soccer fees—” she did the same with the other hand and moved them up and down, as if weighing them. “I, well—I couldn’t do both.” She picked up her coffee and appeared to be very interested in drinking it.
Sam narrowed his eyes at her and returned to the albums. Now Samantha was ten, her hair in two braids as she accepted a ribbon at a school science fair. Her mischief-filled eyes reached across the years to him in the next photo, as she was caught eating batter from the big mixer in the bakery.
Her intensity heated the next page as she concentrated on decorating her first custom cake. Her innocence grabbed him as she lit the traditional diya for Diwali, completely attired in her traditional Indian clothes. He smiled at the little girl and reached out to touch her face. But it was just a picture.
In the next album, Samantha was twelve and all dressed up in her first high heels, curly hair tamed and cascading around her face. Her skin had taken on a creamier hue that closely matched his skin tone. A man Sam didn’t recognize stood next to her. He wore a suit and tie and upon closer inspection, Sam noticed a flower corsage on his daughter’s wrist. He turned to Maya for explanation.
“Oh, that’s Ajay. Ami’s husband?” She avoided his eyes as she mumbled. “Father-daughter dance.”
Sam’s throat tightened, and he needed to loosen his tie even as he glared at Maya before he roughly tossed aside that album for the next.
Now she was thirteen and dressed for an Indian wedding. He could see traces of the young woman she would become. Tears burned behind his eyes as he continued to turn pages. More school awards, higher-level soccer, parties and everyday things. Things he hadn’t been allowed to share. Or even know about.
“Sam?” Maya’s face filled with apprehension. “Sam, are you okay?”
Sam turned toward Maya, nostrils flaring; one tear escaped. He raised a trembling finger to catch it. “No, Maya. How could I possibly be okay?”
Maya looked confused. “I thought you might want to see her growing up.”
Sam stood and turned on Maya. “This is watching her grow up?” His heart pounded, heat rose up in waves. “These are pictures, Maya. Moments. Frozen in time.” He raised his voice, the injustice of having his own child kept from him finally given release. “This is all I get. Pictures.”
“I wanted to tell you so many times. I picked up the phone countless times over the years. I wrote emails I never sent. The more time that passed, the harder it became. What could I possibly say to you that wouldn’t result in you looking at me the way you are now?” She lifted her chin, almost defiant. Almost, but not quite. “I knew I couldn’t keep her from you indefinitely. She’s too smart, too curious. I figured eventually, she would do what I didn’t have the courage to do.” Her voice was soft, resigned.
“You should have.” He growled at her.
“There are a lot of things I should have done.”
The pain on her face softened him for a moment. Unbidden, he was assaulted by memories of the last time he kissed her. It was almost sixteen years ago, but he could still feel the sun on his skin and smell the water from the lake. She had had tears in her eyes. And then it hit him. “That day, at the lake. You knew you were pregnant.” Sam narrowed his eyes at her, his heart pounding, grim realization beginning to set in. “You didn’t say anything, but when I proposed to you, you ran.”
“That was a proposal?” Maya’s defiance turned angry. She stood and leaned toward him, her voice low and dangerous. “You presented me with that coin.” A tremor shook her words. “And said—” she paused and steadied her voice “—you said, ‘heads, we get married, tails, we break up.’” She spit his words back at him with venom. “How was I supposed to agree to that?” She backed away from him, her breath heavy. “I was pregnant.” Her lips trembled.
“Which I did not know.” Sam moved in closer to her, his voice harsh.
“How was I supposed to tell you?” Maya’s voice caught. “Only minutes before, you were cozying up to Bridget. And you wouldn�
��t tell me why! I thought she was always going to be around!”
“Bridget? Are you serious? She was lying! In any case, how could you not tell me?” He nearly vibrated with agitation, and he was unmoved by the tears in her eyes. “Damn it, Maya! You had our child without me—without even telling me.”
“You were too immature to handle it.” Maya stood firm.
“You never even gave me a chance!”
“Your ‘proposal’ told me I didn’t need to!”
Sam watched as she swallowed her tears, even as he pushed back against the burn behind his own eyes. “I came back for you, two days later—” He couldn’t even finish, he clenched his jaw and ran an angry hand through his hair. He hadn’t let himself remember that day in almost sixteen years.
“I remember.” She avoided his eyes, lowering her head.
Sam stared at her, anguish filling his belly. He leaned close enough for the tears on her lashes to stir something inside him. He ignored it as he all but hissed through gritted teeth. “Are you telling me that you kept Samantha from me all these years because of how I proposed to you?” His heart, his stomach, wrenched at this knowledge. Who was this woman whom he loved, but did not know at all? He couldn’t breathe.
Maya gaped back at him. She tried to speak.
“No!” His voice boomed as he stepped back from her. He held his hands up in front of him. “Don’t bother.” He snatched up his coats and gloves, slipped on his shoes. “You didn’t even give me a chance.” Tears continued to burn behind his eyes. “You were supposed to have faith in me. We belonged to each other.” He grabbed her hand and pushed an object into it. “Remember?”
He turned on his heel and thundered down the steps just as his phone dinged. It was probably the text from Paige telling him where to meet her. He ignored it as thoughts of the photos and the lifetime he had missed filled his head, and he stalked out into the biting cold.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MAYA
New York, 2012
MAYA STOOD MOTIONLESS in her apartment and listened to Sam’s thundering footsteps as he stormed off. When the bottom door slammed, she brought her attention to the object in her hand. She knew what it was the instant he put it there. She just didn’t know why. She held it up to the light. The coin was old, tinged slightly green. She turned it this way and that.
Heads, we get married, tails, we break up. Heads, we see your movie, tails, we see mine. The words echoed in her ear, deafening her when the secret of the coin was revealed to her. The whole world stopped, leaving Maya in a vacuum, the only sound her rapidly pounding heart, which quickly filled with remorse. It couldn’t be.
She squeezed the coin in her hand, tighter and tighter until the coin pressed uncomfortably into her hand, and her nails dug into her skin. She opened her hand to verify the truth. She stared down at the coin and flipped it over, her head, her limbs, joining her heart, heavy with regret and opportunities lost.
On one side, the profile of a man who must’ve been of some importance to be immortalized on a coin. A head. On the flip side, the other profile of the same man. Another head. Heads, we do what you want, tails, we do what I want. Always.
Tears threatened again as a heavy sob built from her depths. What had she done? She quelled the sob before it broke, dragging her into a well of lament and despair. Tears would have to wait. She had a meeting with a bride in fifteen minutes. Maya tore her gaze away from the coin and fortified herself before heading into the bathroom. She needed this wedding contract. What was done was done.
She couldn’t change the past. Even if she wanted to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SAM
New York, 2012
SAM LEANED AGAINST the cold brick building outside Maya’s apartment, letting his head fall hard against it. The crisp air was refreshing, but his stomach was in knots. So that was it. Sarcastic laughter built inside him. It was almost like sixteen years hadn’t even passed. She still drove him insane.
So Maya had kept Samantha from him because of that coin? No—it didn’t make sense. Something else must have happened during those two days. Unless...unless what she had said to him that day had been true.
She had never really loved him.
Sam stood upright and tried to shake the painful memory from his head. He needed to focus if he was going to meet Paige and his parents for that cake tasting. He checked the text from Paige and his whole body went rigid with disbelief. His heart hammered in his chest. How is that even possible?
Paige had texted him the address of Sweet Nothings. It took him a full sixty seconds to process that she wanted him to meet her here. For a moment he considered returning upstairs, giving Maya a heads-up.
The moment passed in a wave of renewed anger at her. No, they would just have to deal with whatever happened in the next hour. He straightened his tie and put on his suit jacket and overcoat, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. The crisp air cooled his anger, but did nothing for the ache in his chest. No matter, he’d have to deal with that later.
Right now he had to deal with the fact that the cake designer his fiancée was enthralled with was none other than the mother of his child.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SAM
Maryland, 1996
THE SUNLIGHT WAS painful even through his eyelids. Thankfully, they seemed to be sealed shut. The fuzziness in his mouth would eventually demand to be taken care of, but there wasn’t any rush. He knew instinctively that if he moved, one thousand tabla players would use his head for a drum. Sam had always been mesmerized by the speed and accuracy of the tabla players’ hands; he just didn’t need them in his head right now. Rays of sharp light continued to bore through his eyelids, and from a distance, he heard someone calling out to him.
“Sammy! Ah, jeez, Sammy. What happened?”
Sam did not respond. Couldn’t, even if he’d wanted to.
“Sammy?” Even with his eyes closed, Sam could see the furrow between his father’s eyebrows grow with concern. “Sammy!”
His eyes were spared the sun’s needle rays as his father moved closer and blocked the light. Sam tried to open his eyes. Bad idea. He closed them again, but unfortunately that was enough to start the tabla players inside his head, and the fuzz in his mouth was growing. He tried to move his arm and was rewarded with aching pain all throughout his body, causing him to groan. He unglued his eyes and found he was on the sofa.
“There you are.” His father was shaking his head. He leaned down to give his son a hand to sit up. Sam’s every muscle protested this, but his stomach protested the most. “C’mon, now.” His father pulled an empty bottle from Sam’s grip and shoved a bucket in front of him, just in time.
Sam emptied the poisonous liquid contents of his stomach, much to the joy of the drummers in his head. He actually welcomed the rhythmic, pounding pain. It took away from the crater in his chest that just got bigger every time he thought about Maya. Which was constantly.
“Well, at least you drank the good stuff.” His dad forced a chuckle, but concern still laced his words. “I take it that it didn’t go well.”
Sam shook his head. Oohh. Big mistake. “The coin. She didn’t understand.” It was all he could do to get the words past the desert landscape of his throat.
His dad shoved a glass in front of him. “Drink this. Electrolytes.”
Sam drank down the whole glass, decreasing the fur in his mouth by a fraction. Images from the night before flashed before him. Maya had looked amazing. They had shared that amazing kiss, he put out the picnic dinner and proposed with the coin. The idea was that she would’ve picked it up, and seen the ring underneath—and she would also learn the secret of the coin. It had made sense in his head, was maybe even romantic, but now, it seemed a bit ridiculous. Especially since she’d flipped out and run. Tears burned again, putting his head in a vise. The crater grew bigger.
&nb
sp; “Let’s go, Sammy.” His father grunted as he pulled Sam up by the armpits. “Let’s get you in the shower. Give it a day or so, then go explain. She’ll understand.”
John helped his son get in the shower, and Sam stood there and willed the water to bring him relief. To show him the way to make all this right with Maya. Somehow, he’d hurt her, and he had no idea what he’d done. Whatever it was, he’d fix it.
He turned off the shower and toweled off, his head still pounding. He threw on sweats and a T-shirt and fell asleep on top of his bed, wet hair and all. The whole universe was looking down on him from his ceiling, and he wondered yet again how the hell he had screwed this up. Agitated voices broke through his fog, and he opened his eyes to listen.
“He has to at least explain to her about the coin.”
“No, he does not. If she really cared, she would not be so harsh. Good riddance to her, I say.” Sam’s mother sounded relieved.
“Hema, he’s in love with her. And she’s in love with him. They can fix this. There must be some other reason she was upset. He needs to make amends and find out.”
“He cannot be in love with her—she’s not right for him, for the kind of future he promises to have. I’ve held my tongue the whole summer and let him have his little romance—but now it is over. I did not even think he was serious about marrying her—how could she think so? She’s wise. The best thing she can do for him is leave.”