Incense and Sensibility

by Sonali Dev

  Then she’d gone inside, leaving him staring after her, his heart hanging lopsided like a door knocker displaced after a door had been slammed too hard.

  He hadn’t been able to move. In the end he’d dropped down on her front step and sat there examining every word she’d said to him from every angle. Unhealed wounds had opened back up as he turned his attention to them for the first time. His own panic and numbness had slowly started to make sense to him. By the time he’d pushed himself off the cold concrete the sun had started to nudge at the sky and he’d known exactly what he had to do.

  How are you? He had typed and erased those words to her innumerable times. Like a smitten teenager. Something he’d never been when he was a teenager.

  It was easy to assume she was fine, to take her strength for granted. It was what he’d done from the very first time he’d met her.

  “What on earth are you eating?” Trisha asked, studying the bowl in front of him.

  “Lunch.”

  “Yash, is that . . . oatmeal?”

  It tasted like throw-up, or maybe pus, and not the nectar kind either. A smile twisted his lips as he pushed it toward Trisha. “Want it?”

  Trisha put a spoonful in her mouth. “It’s not bad. Thanks. Should I get you something else?”

  “Not really hungry.” But he took a spoonful, because he had to make sure it was as bad as that first bite. True devotion is unconditional and its results are always sweet.

  Trisha looked alarmed as she watched him swallow, but instead of commenting on it she turned to the debate. “I did DVR and watch the entire thing after my shift and you’re totally back.”

  “I am back.” He returned her jubilant smile.

  There had been a moment of panic when he’d headed for the stage. But instead of what he didn’t know was hiding in the crowd, he’d thought about the people he did know were there. People who supported him. People who trusted him to do this. A public servant doesn’t stop serving.

  “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?”

  “As a matter of fact I do, giraffe, and right back at ya.”

  She put a few quick spoonfuls into her mouth and grinned at his use of her childhood nickname.

  “Anything new with Abdul?” he asked. He’d stopped by to see Abdul earlier. The trauma specialists they’d consulted had all basically repeated what the other doctors had said. That there wasn’t much more they could do but wait.

  “Nothing new. But there’s always hope,” Trisha said. When it came to medicine, she was more practical than anyone Yash knew. If she had hope, that gave him hope. Abdul had been in a coma for three weeks now. “But you know that the chances of him waking up go down the longer he stays in a coma. How is Arzu?”

  “Incredibly strong. She believes he’s going to wake up.”

  Trisha nodded. “There’s something to be said about faith and belief after we’ve done everything we can with medicine.” She put another spoonful in her mouth. “So seeing India helped, then?” she said, casually enough that he wasn’t sure if it was pretend casualness or real casualness.

  He hmm-ed in response. “A lot.” She saved me. “You’re really good friends with her, right?”

  Her pause was longer than he’d have liked. Trisha wasn’t spy-level intuitive like Nisha and Ashna, but she was genius-level brilliant. So maybe it was a mistake to think barking up this sister tree was the easiest option.

  “I’m closer to China, but I do hang out with India when we do our Raje-Dashwood sisters hang-out once every few months. She’s lovely, isn’t she? There’s just something weirdly good about her.”

  He almost choked on his tongue. Trisha did not want him to answer that. He hmm-ed again.

  “That’s a lot of hmms, Yash. What’s going on?”

  Yup, barking up the wrong sister tree. With his luck, they’d all be putting their heads together and swapping analysis the second he stepped out of here. “I got the feeling her mother wasn’t feeling great. Do you know anything about it?”

  “You know that even if I did, I couldn’t talk to you about it. There are laws, counselor!”

  She hadn’t said no straight out. So maybe India had called her.

  “All I’m saying is that, since you’re friends, maybe drop by and check up on Tara?”

  She beamed at him. “Sure. I’m so glad white-knight Yash is back and ready to fix all the world’s problems. I’ll swing by. I did want to thank her for helping you.” She leaned over and pushed his hair off his forehead. “I’m so glad to have you back.”

  He was glad to be back too. He really was.

  Trisha scraped the bottom of the bowl and pretended not to study him. “How’s Naina, by the way? When does she go back to Burma?”

  Unlike him, details weren’t Trisha’s strong suit, unless they were related to medicine. “It’s Nepal. And she isn’t sure about her plans.”

  “Are you saying she might stay here? Yash, that’s amazing! You guys can finally make it official.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He must have snapped, because she looked all alert and wounded, like the sensitive little girl she used to be. “Well, I’m excited that your girlfriend might actually be around for a while. Especially now when you need her. Why are you upset?”

  The sick panicked feeling he’d had to suppress every time he thought about Naina living in California flooded through him, but he could blame no one but himself that Trisha didn’t understand.

  “What makes you think I’m upset?”

  She did not dignify that with an answer. Instead she fixed him with a look that would’ve done the sensitive little girl she’d been proud.

  “Naina and I aren’t looking to change anything.”

  “Okay.”

  “What?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Why?” It was getting annoying that they wouldn’t stop asking him that. He was back to campaigning, back to returning their calls, back to working twenty-hour days. He felt everything ten times over now. No numbness in sight. What more did they want?

  “Well, you were missing all night last week.”

  “Missing?”

  She made a funny face, as though she wasn’t sure who he was anymore. “Naina is your girlfriend. You’re thirty-eight. If you spent the night at her place, why would you hide it?”

  “Hide what?”

  Trisha straight-out laughed at that. One of those laughs annoying younger siblings laughed when they caught you in a lie.

  “Please tell me there wasn’t a search party out. I told Ma I was fine.” He had texted his mother and told her he had work to take care of and planned on staying at his apartment. He hadn’t lied, because he had planned to go home. It wasn’t like he’d planned to spend a night dragging India to the hospital and then sitting on her front step.

  Not that any of it deserved to be met with a stealth search-party mission.

  “Let me get this straight. You got shot. You had panic attacks when you tried to campaign. You shut yourself off from the rest of us for two weeks. Then you disappeared for an entire night. Did you really think Ma would let it be?”

  Turns out, when he hadn’t answered the phone—because he was too busy having his broken brain set straight by the only person he wanted to be around right now—Ma hadn’t believed that he was in his apartment. Neel had been dispatched to check Yash’s apartment in San Francisco. When Yash hadn’t been found where he’d said he was, they had called Naina, and she had admitted to him being with her.

  “I don’t understand why you’re lying about it. I know you’ve always been private about your relationship but everyone is happy for you. Both Ashna and I live with our boyfriends. I’ve always been so proud of you for supporting Naina one hundred percent in what she wants to do with her life. But if she’s voluntarily back, then why is that a problem?”

  Instead of answering, he made an incredulous sound.

  “Wait, you think she’s doing it just to help
your campaign. You don’t want her to make a sacrifice for you. You’re trying to protect her.” She made one of those faces his sisters made when they thought something was romantic. As a brother of this particular cornucopia of meddlesome sisters, he knew there was no dissuading them from their fanciful imaginings after that look.

  “She’s not wrong,” Trisha went on. “The voters love her, and having her by your side is certainly not something to push away right now. You might have to stop being a hero and let her help you this time. You’ve asked for nothing from her all these years.”

  Yash blew out a breath. “I set out to win this election by myself, without her here. I shouldn’t need her here to win.” It was time to end this farce. Way past time. He had to talk to Naina about it today.

  Trisha looked at him like he had sprouted a horn in the middle of his forehead. Fortunately, Brandy marched up to them with her usual purpose. She’d been patrolling the cafeteria and keeping an eye out for other psychos who might want to shoot him. “It’s time,” she said with her usual sunny minimalism.

  At least they’d all agreed that he didn’t need security 24/7, but just for public appearances and media events.

  Standing up, Yash gave Trisha a quick hug. “I have to get to an interview. You’ll keep me posted about Abdul? And you’ll check up on Tara?”

  She saluted. “Yes sir. Break a leg.” She threw a grateful smile at Brandy, then turned to him again. “And get over yourself. It’s okay to let people take care of you.”

  Yash was fuming when Naina greeted him at the studio. Flying at him, she dropped a kiss on his lips as cameras went off. What the hell? This was not how they greeted each other.

  “Thanks so much for being here.” Anne Shobraj, the host of Morning Mountain View, said, an awww written all across her face.

  Naina smiled up at him, causing the awww to intensify.

  As soon as Anne had excused herself and hurried off to the stage, Naina turned to him, confusion written large on her face. “Will you stop looking so tortured?”

  “Why did you lie to Ma?”

  “Lie?”

  “About me spending the night at your place.”

  “Yash, come on, we’re almost forty, it’s not like our parents think we’re playing Scrabble with each other for entertainment.”

  He hated when she did that, bought into her own lies. “We are not a real couple, Nai. I need you to stop acting like we are.”

  “What are we, then? And if you say the words ‘fake relationship’ again I’m going to kick you in the shins. The way I did when we were kids.”

  He hated that he smiled at that. “We’re friends who made a deal. We’re partners in a lie.”

  “No. We’re much more than that. We’re friends who want to change the world. Who can be really good together.”

  “We can’t. We weren’t. We tried.”

  She made pouty lips. “Why can’t we try again? Since when do you give up?” He rubbed his forehead and she looked around. “We can even get help for your . . . your . . . reticence.”

  His ears warmed. He wasn’t exactly proud of the fact that he didn’t enjoy sex as much as the next guy, but as a proud and vocal feminist, shouldn’t she not buy into the entire oversexed machismo thing?

  “I just got shot. It’s not at the top of my mind. Why are you suddenly acting like we’re something other than what we are?”

  “Why are you suddenly acting like you’re trapped in something you never wanted? You’re right, we are friends who made a deal. A deal you’re suddenly acting like you want out of.”

  Damn straight he wanted out of it. He wanted out of it more than he’d ever wanted anything, and that was saying something. “Because I do want out. Because this wasn’t the deal.”

  “How can you say that? Now, when we almost have everything we worked for. I thought we talked about this. You agreed to this the other day.” She rolled her hand between them, but there was nothing there to trace. No electricity arcing between them. No connection that felt like a lifeline.

  “That’s not true. You said that’s what you wanted. I never agreed to it.”

  She pressed a fist to her waist and looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. Getting that look from everyone around him was starting to get on his last nerve. Before she could respond, a perky young man asked them to join Anne in the studio.

  After the introductions, the very first thing they showed was the footage of Naina sobbing over Yash on the gurney.

  “Can you walk our viewers through what that was like? Seeing Yash go down like that from the audience,” Anne said.

  Naina pushed a trembling hand into her chest. It took her a moment to compose herself. Seeing that teared Anne up.

  “Yash and I have been friends since we were in diapers. I don’t remember life without him.” She met his eyes, and guilt and frustration churned up his insides. “For a moment there I thought I’d lost him forever.”

  “How terrifying,” Anne nudged.

  “Terrifying doesn’t begin to cover it. You know those moments when you rethink your entire life and all your choices? It was one of those moments.” Naina reached out and took Yash’s hand and squeezed it. Was that the truth? Was that why she’d changed after the shooting?

  Anne’s eyes lit up. A journalistic coup flashed so bright in her eyes it sent a god-awful tremor of dread up and down Yash’s spine.

  Naina’s tears, however, were real, and he squeezed her hand. She pulled their joined hands to her heart. “Of all the people in my life, Yash is the only one I’ve ever been able to be entirely myself around. He’s the only one I know how to ask for what I want. And I know he’ll make it happen. No matter the cost to himself. And you know what the best part is?”

  Anne opened her mouth but was too overwhelmed to speak. She nodded encouragingly.

  “That’s Yash. It’s just who he is. Not just for me, or for his family, but for anyone who needs anything.” A smile wobbled on her lips. “As his fiancée, it can be annoying sometimes, but a governor like that is exactly what our state needs.”

  Rage swirled like nausea in Yash’s stomach.

  The triumph in Anne’s eyes was like fireworks. She leaned forward, totally at odds with her usual laid-back style. “Did you say fiancée? Did we miss something?”

  Naina pressed a hand to her mouth and looked at Yash with entirely too much sincerity. “That was a slip. No, you didn’t miss anything. Isn’t it just a label, though? You don’t need a ring to prove you’re committed. All I know is that I’m not spending my life with anyone but him. That’s bigger than any label.”

  Anne turned expectant eyes on him. A million things ran through his head. The face of one person who might watch this and have her heart broken again floating to the top of everything else. He had to tell India the truth. Whatever else he did, he had to tell her the truth.

  “Naina’s right. I can’t imagine a life without her in it. But I’m still here. I got lucky. The significantly more important thing is that every year thousands of people cry over bodies of loved ones taken by gun violence. Right now, my bodyguard, Abdullah Khan . . .” He worked hard not to let his voice crack; he would not cheapen Abdul’s tragedy any more than he already had by letting it turn into a stump theme.

  “Even as we sit here, Abdul lies in a coma. Every day his chance of surviving goes down. He has a family, a wife who hasn’t left the hospital since it happened two days after she gave birth to their first child.” The silence in the studio was deafening, but the silence inside Yash was more desolate than anything he’d ever felt. “We need to protect people better. We need to not be beholden to the gun lobby and the lies it propagates for profit. There’s work to be done, Anne.”

  For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then Naina gave the camera a look that said, Isn’t he awesome? What did I tell you?

  A look Anne mirrored. A look that sobered the gleam in her eye. With a professional nod she switched to political questions.

  At the end of
the interview, Anne, now firmly in her serious journalistic stance, asked Naina about her plans. “We’ve talked about Yash’s achievements, but you’re something of a trailblazer yourself. You’ve dedicated the past decade of your life to bringing economic freedom to rural women across the globe.” They played a clip summarizing the amazing work Naina’s foundation was doing. “I believe there’s some good news on that front.”

  “Yes, the Mehta Foundation just pledged a large endowment to us, completely changing our reach and what we can accomplish. I just accepted the position to manage research and growth here in San Francisco.”

  “A much easier commute to Sacramento than Nepal, right?” Anne smiled, and Yash had a sense of someone tightening a straitjacket around him.

  Naina returned Anne’s smile. “It will be lovely to be closer to Yash, but really Yash and I have always put our commitment to our work above everything else. I’m sure he’s happy to have me around, but California is Yash’s true love.”

  By the time the cameras turned off, the energy in the audience had turned into a solid block of support.

  Rico was waiting for them when they got off the stage, victory writ large on his face. “That might have been the most successful TV interview a politician has ever given.” To Rico’s credit, the jubilation was tempered with fierce purpose. Naina looked that way too. Her faith in him was not a lie. That much Yash did know.

  The cameras had a field day as Naina took Yash’s hand and they followed Rico out of the studio.

  Chapter Eighteen

  He’s not coming back, baby.” India stroked the folds on Chutney’s head and she let out a whine.

  India tried not to dwell on how perfectly the whine verbalized her own feelings.

  Chutney had taken to sitting at the living room window on the back of the couch and staring out at the spot from where Yash had waved to her two weeks ago. Needless to say, Chutney wasn’t the only one doing it.

  India wrapped her arms around her dog’s barrel-shaped body and rested her chin on her head. “You were a very good girl,” she whispered. “You helped him get back on his feet. Remember how his eyes lit up every time he saw you, every time you let him rub your belly? That was very generous of you. To give him that.” She gave her another gentle squeeze and the sweet baby squeak-purred.