by Mona Shroff
Maya’s stomach turned and the taste of bile coated the back of her throat. Was she talking about Bridget? Had Hema-auntie made the same visit to Bridget’s house? She clenched her jaw and forced her chin up.
“See, my dear, you are no one special. When the time does come for Sam to marry, I will see to it that the woman is...appropriate.” She stepped back and opened her purse, taking out her checkbook. “Something that you are not.
“You are free to tell him about your baby, but where would that leave you? He may marry you, he may not.” Hema-auntie frowned and shrugged as she took out a pen and scrawled on a check. “In either case, Sam has a sense of responsibility, so more likely than not, he’ll try to take care of you and that child.”
She paused as she turned sad eyes on Maya. “But what happens five or even ten years from now when he realizes that you and your child stole all of his dreams? His real dreams? Sure, right now he thinks he can save the world as a small, two-bit lawyer working for the people—but that won’t last. And that’s your influence, anyway. He never spoke of that until you came along.” She raised a triumphant eyebrow. “Will he think he loves you then? Or will he turn bitter?” She moved closer, and Maya nearly gagged again when her nostrils were overcome with the sickly floral scent of lavender perfume. “He may even leave. Abandoning not only you, but your child. What kind of life is that?”
Maya knew exactly what kind of life that was. She felt the air leave the room. She fumbled for a seat, and Hema-auntie continued to talk, but Maya couldn’t hear her. She was right, of course. Sam would feel obligated to stay with her. He would eventually abandon not only her, but her child, too. She couldn’t knowingly put her baby through that.
Hema-auntie handed her a slip of paper. “Maya. Maya! Did you hear me?” Maya took the paper. “Take this check.” Her voice was harsh. “It should be enough to take care of things however you see fit.” She made a point to look into Maya’s eyes. “And if you tell Sam I did this, he won’t believe you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
SAM
New York, 2013
SAM THUNDERED AWAY from Maya’s apartment, deaf to the sounds of traffic, blind to the world around him. The only sound—his own blood pulsing in his head. The only sight—the movie of Samantha’s life, playing in his mind.
A life he had missed.
By the time he realized that he’d forgotten the birth certificate, he was a block away from the subway, standing in front of an empty building with a for lease sign in the window. He leaned against the glass wall, not seeing the people pass him by while he played back the scene Maya had just narrated to him. He still had the check in his pocket. He took it out, and a snippet of a conversation he’d overheard at Christmas came to him. His heart broke again.
Rage flowed through him and he barely remembered taking the subway home. Suddenly, he found himself in his apartment, and Paige was asking why he was home from work. Why was she home? Then he remembered. She had wedding things to do. His mother was here.
“Where is my mother?” he growled.
“I’m right here, dear.” His mother emerged from the spare bedroom. “What’s wrong, Sam? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
His heart pounding in his chest, he produced the check from his pocket and slammed it down on the island. Both Paige and his mother jumped at the sound. His mother paled. “Where did you get that?” It was barely a whisper.
“I found it.”
“She gave it to you, didn’t she?” His mother actually had the guts to spit the words out as if Maya had done something wrong. “That little—”
“Watch it.” It was something between a growl and a hiss as something feral reared its head inside him.
“What did she tell you?”
“She told me everything.” He barely moved his lips.
She softened. “You have to understand, Sam. You were young. She was young. You two hardly knew each other...”
“It wasn’t your decision.” It was taking all his restraint not to blow up at her.
“I tried to stay out of it.” His mother raised her chin. “When she turned down your proposal, I thought it was over. That you could move on... But then your father convinced you to see her again. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t stand by and watch you throw your life away for the wrong girl.” She squared her shoulders, but her lips trembled, ever so slightly. “So I went to see her. I was just going to scare her off. But then I found out she was pregnant. I knew you’d never leave her if you knew. I knew you would honor your responsibilities. So I did it for you. I wrote her that check and sent her on her way.” Her voice cracked ever so little, even as she fought to maintain her stance. “I did it for your future.”
This was so backward to him, he let go of his restraint. “Is that what you thought? That I would ‘honor’ my responsibilities?” Sam paced, his voice getting louder. He ran a hand through his hair, loosened his tie. “I loved her. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with her—baby or not. Do you have any idea what I went through when she left—no explanation, no goodbye, no nothing?”
“She would have ruined you. All those dreams of a political career would have been gone once you settled for the quiet life she was dragging you into. I saved you.” No mama bear could have been a match for his mother. Even with Sam almost shouting at her, she wouldn’t back down. “Don’t you see? She was wrong for you. You need someone like Paige, someone who can be there for you and has a stomach for a life in politics.”
“Those were never my dreams.” He spit the words out. He turned to Paige. Tears were already streaming down her face. “How long have you known?”
Paige wiped her eyes with shaking fingers. “I, um, I figured it out at Diwali.” She looked him in the eye. “I heard them talking. Maya swore she would never tell you. She didn’t.” Paige shook her head, swallowed. “She didn’t want to hurt you.” Fresh tears fell down her cheeks and she pressed her lips together as she wiped them away.
Sam glared at Paige for a moment, turmoil brewing inside him. She was supposed to love him. But she had kept the secret, too. He turned his back on her and returned to his mother. “Your own grandchild, Mother.”
“It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.”
“That’s how you see this? A sacrifice? Something for the ‘greater good’?” Sam threw up his arms and shook his head in disbelief. “So I guess you won’t mind if I never let you see Samantha again.”
“You wouldn’t.” There was a tremor in her words and she gripped a chair. Her eyes were moist, but that didn’t stop him.
“Wouldn’t I?” Sam sneered. “I am your son, after all. What about Dad? Is he in on this?” He’d lose his mind if he found out his father had known, too.
“Of course not, this is not something he would—” His mother stopped, attempted to gather herself. “No, he does not know. And he does not need to know.” She wavered. “Please.”
“You cannot ask me anything. Not. One. Thing. You saw to it that I didn’t even know I had a child.”
“Maya kept the secret, too. For sixteen years.” Paige’s voice behind him was almost a whisper.
Sam did not turn to face her. “I am aware. Don’t think I’ll forget that anytime soon.”
Sam’s mother approached him. “Can’t we just put this in the past?”
“Oh, I see. You want me to forgive you, to put in the past that you tried to pay off the woman I love. You played on her fear of abandonment and you got her to keep from me that she was carrying my child. A child that grew up without me. A child that I would have loved as much as I love Maya.” Sam was out of breath but he continued. “Then you and my fiancée conspire to continue to keep the truth from me? Why?” He turned to face Paige and was stopped by the hurt in her eyes.
Sadness surrounded her. “You still love her.”
“No. That’s not what I said.
”
“Yes, it is, Sam. And it doesn’t matter. I can see it. I have been seeing it. Every time she’s around.” She turned and fled toward the bedroom. “And even when she’s not.”
“Don’t let her go, Sam.” His mother pleaded with him.
“I’m letting you both go.” He picked up his jacket and walked out, letting the door slam behind him.
He spent the night in a hotel, and when he returned in the morning, both his mother and fiancée were gone. Paige’s abandoned engagement ring caught the sunlight, a rock sitting on an island.
CHAPTER FORTY
SAM
Maryland, 1996
IF SHE DIDN’T love him, if she could actually say those words, there was no reason for him to stay. He tapped the coin in his pocket and stared at the closed door. He had pounded on the door to get her back, but only her mother had come out. Sunita had made it abundantly clear that Maya no longer needed or wanted him, and then, for the second time in the span of thirty minutes, a woman had slammed a door on him.
Sam turned on his heel and leaped down the porch steps. He headed for his car, expecting the burn of hot tears behind his eyes or a painful lump in his throat, but they didn’t come. A deafening pounding filled his ears, robbing him of rational thought. He put the car in gear and sped off away from her, leaving behind a trail of burning rubber.
He found himself parked at the soccer field, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach, while a large pit expanded in his chest. In the dwindling crowd of players, he noted three of his college-bound strikers, getting in the last bit of time together before moving on to their respective universities.
Andy was sprawled out in the grass and Mohit and Kevin were taking turns blocking shots at the goal. A few older players were doing sprints and passes; a lone striker took shots on an unattended goal.
Sam opened the car door and was assaulted by Maryland’s suffocating August heat. He dug around the trunk until he found his cleats. The tightness of them—the pressure on his feet—that’s what he needed to feel, what he would prefer to feel. No need for shin guards or pads or gloves today. There was nothing left to protect.
Sam gave the trunk a satisfying slam and one of the boys turned toward him. “Hey, guys! It’s Coach!”
Mohit let the ball in the goal as his focus shifted to Sam. “Hey!” He motioned to Kevin as he jogged over to his coach.
Sam greeted the boys, though his attention was concentrated on the lone striker.
Mohit followed Sam’s gaze. “It’s just Nikhil—let him be, Coach. He’s still sore about that save you made.”
Nik kicked the ball right at Sam. Sam caught it with ease and waited as Nik sauntered over.
Nik paused a few feet from Sam. “Well, if it isn’t the famous Hutcherson.” Nik raised his voice, narrowed his black eyes and spread his arms out wide as if he had a grand audience.
“What do you want, Nik?” Mohit turned his body so he was standing between his coach and Nik. His arms hung by his side, every muscle and tendon tensed and ready to explode as necessary. The other boys followed suit.
“Oh, not to worry, kid.” Nik’s mouth was smiling, but his words were sharp. “I don’t want trouble. Just a chance to prove that Hutcherson here isn’t all that everyone thinks he is.” He set his lips in a hard line and froze his gaze on Sam. “Last year’s championship was mine, and you know it.”
Sam forced a smile and spread his own arms. Going head-to-head against a guy who hated him was just what he needed. “Are you fucking serious right now? I made that save because you are not as unstoppable as you think.” Nikhil Amin had an ego the size of a stadium, and Sam knew how to play him. “I made that save because I’m better, Amin.”
The boys were aghast at Sam’s words, but Sam saw the anger simmering in Nikhil, and that’s all he needed.
“Bring it, if you have it.” He turned his back on Nikhil, and in just a few strides, had reached the goal. The boys followed close behind, confused by Sam’s behavior.
“At least get gloves, Coach,” Mohit whispered, his eyes slightly panicked.
Sam waved him off. That pit in his chest was starting to fill with cement.
Nikhil Amin was a technical finisher, a player that was so powerful, he was almost guaranteed to get the ball past the goalie. The only time he’d failed was last year’s championship game. Sam had been in the goal.
Sam positioned himself on the goal line, ignored the boys’ anxious pleas and focused on Nik. From the corner of his eye, he saw the boys huddle together, and then Kevin ran off in the direction of the pay phone.
Nikhil grinned at Sam, his eyes cold and metallic, as he placed the ball on the ground. He licked his lips and started his run. All of Sam’s senses were focused on the ball.
At first, Sam blocked shot after shot. The ball carried Nik’s frustration, and his shots were wild but powerful. Each sting of the ball on Sam’s bare hands matched the sting of Maya’s words.
Their summer flashed before him. Nik’s shots started coming harder and faster. Sam tried to shake off the memories.
Sam dove hard left, and remembered how she would tuck her hair behind her ear. He missed the ball and hit the ground hard. Blood oozed from a scraped elbow. His shirt was soon soaked with sweat as the sun continued to beat down on him, and as he imagined the coolness of her hands on his face before she kissed him, he dove to the right and banged his shoulder on the goalpost.
Dirt mixed with the sweat and blood on his knees. The ball came off Nik’s foot from a shot inside the box and hit Sam full in the stomach. The wind knocked out of him, Sam fell back into the goal and took a minute, prone on the ground, to catch his breath.
“Coach! Coach! Are you all right?”
Sam heard pounding feet and started to push himself up. He licked his lips and tasted the metallic tang of blood. “I’m fine!”
“Here,” Mohit said, offering him a bottle of water.
Sam slapped it away. “Again.” He spat out blood and grabbed the goalpost to help himself up. The hot aluminum scorched his already swollen hands—he just squeezed the bar harder.
Sam could still hear her voice. I don’t love you. He was on his knees, clinging to the heated aluminum, willing himself to stand when a sharp pain exploded in his face and he was forced onto his back. His world suddenly became blurred and a searing pain coursed through his face and head. Nik had kicked from the penalty line, hitting Sam in the face. He barely registered the blood dripping from his nose as everything went black.
He woke a few minutes later to find himself still in the nightmare. Mohit was yelling instructions to the other two, and Kevin was trying to keep Andy from attacking Nik.
From behind the goal, he heard a familiar voice. “It’s okay, boys. Go on home. I got him.” The voice paused, but still the angry voices pounded his head.
“Boys!” John Hutcherson boomed over them. The boys fell silent. “Don’t lay a hand on Nik.” He raised his voice slightly. “You better go, Nik. I can only hold them back so long.”
Sam felt his father kneel down beside him. “C’mon, Sammy. Let me see.” Sam forced himself to a sitting position and met his father’s gentle blue eyes. Dr. Hutcherson pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it expertly against Sam’s nose. The pain made Sam light-headed, but he refused to cry out. He held the handkerchief in place. His father laid his hand on Sam’s chest and spoke softly to his son. “It’s broken for sure.”
The sound of his father’s voice, the strength of his hand supporting him broke the last of Sam’s control. Sam felt the burn of tears from behind his eyes and deep within his stomach. A painful lump filled his throat and the tears finally came. He leaned forward on his knees and rested his head on his father’s shoulder. Sobbing made it harder to breathe.
But who needed to breathe?
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
MAYA
MAYA WOKE UP extra early on Saturdays in January to roast coffee beans, as well as to blend the cloves, cardamom, cinnamon, black pepper and ginger needed for her chai masala. There was no chai-flavored syrup in her Indian-style tea; she made the spice mix the same as her mother, and her mother before her. And since chai had become all the rage, she couldn’t make the spice mix fast enough. She’d sold out over Christmas, so now was the time to replenish. The kitchen smells reminded her of childhood, and her thoughts turned to her Deepak-mama and Sejal. Her mother joined her and filled her in on her most recent “date” with Raju-kaka from the night before.
“He was a complete gentleman, Maya. Opening doors for me, pulling out chairs.” Her mother nearly glowed.
Raju-kaka had been opening doors and pulling out chairs for Sunita for thirty years, but only now had Sunita decided to notice. Maya simply smiled and nodded, glancing at the clock. Samantha was due back from Sam’s around noon, but it was only ten thirty now. She shook her head, as if doing so would get rid of her nervous anticipation at seeing Sam, and focused her attention on what her mother was saying, all the while stirring the coffee beans and checking if the spices were blended fine enough. She had barely spoken to him in the past week since he’d found out about the check.
Customers lined up, and Maya lost herself in the preparation of the chai masala and coffee, so before she knew it, Samantha and Sam were walking toward the shop.
Maya’s breath caught when he came into view, just as it always did and she berated herself yet again for it. But damn if he didn’t make jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt look good. It must be unseasonably warm today, because he carried his leather jacket. He and Samantha were intense in conversation, and Maya found herself smiling at how easily they got along. Sam pulled out his phone and showed it to Samantha. Her eyes lit up.