Mira crossed her legs. “Excuse me?”
“What were you up to, say, October, six years ago?”
Mira polished off the last of her sandwich, using the big bites as an excuse not to speak.
That didn’t stop Emi. “Because I was locked up, but someone anonymously donated a large sum to my mom to bail me out of jail, with enough left over to pay my legal fees.” Emi looked at her from under her lashes. “I know you told her not to tell me, but she’s a terrible liar.”
“So it seems.” Mira checked over her shoulder. The water was still running. She didn’t want Naveen to hear this, and not because she was ashamed. No, she didn’t want him to hear this the same way she didn’t want anyone to know what organizations she volunteered for or where she donated her money.
Some people, like her late aunt, volunteered out of the goodness of their soul. She did it to cleanse her conscience. “Speaking of, how’s your mom?”
“Her cancer came back.”
Mira sucked in a breath at the naked pain in Emi’s words. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“You knew, though, right? Same way you knew where I lived? And about that time I was in jail?”
Mira shifted. “I . . . I may check in on her social media periodically.”
Emi didn’t look like she believed Mira, and she shouldn’t. Mira did check social media, and then engaged in a little light stalking on Google to keep tabs on the Matsuis. Emi’s mom was on her third round of chemo, the store closed last year, two of Emi’s sisters lived out of the country, and the other two had deadbeat husbands and no money.
If one knew where to look, information was easy to come by.
“So?”
“So what?”
“Was it guilt? That had you helping us out?”
Mira wiped her hands on her napkin. “I heard about what happened. You’re a literal genius, it was a bloodless crime. Your mom needs you and I figured you needed a chance to rehabilitate.”
Amusement flashed in Emi’s eyes. “Ah. How logical. In case it was guilt, though, you don’t have to reform me just because your dad taught me some tricks way back in the day. You know that, right?”
Mira didn’t know that. But for her, Emi wouldn’t have had a criminal in her life. Maybe she would have grown up to use her brilliant mind for good instead of evil.
Mira had met Emi during English class in ninth grade, and she’d felt a click with her immediately, which didn’t happen often for Mira. She’d been a shy, quiet kid, and even quieter after Sejal had left home. Something about Emi’s wild, brash personality had called to her, brought her out of her shell.
A couple weeks later, Emi had come home with Mira to work on a school project. Emi had paused in the door to her dad’s office and looked over his bulky computers. “Nice setup,” she’d commented, and the next thing Mira had known, Emi was poring over the computer manuals with her dad.
After that, Emi had been the one friend of hers whom Vassar had remembered the name of. When she came by, her dad listened carefully to the latest hacking project she was working on, then give her ideas on what to try next or where to look for information.
“He was my father,” Mira said. “If I hadn’t introduced you . . .”
Emi laughed. “Weirdo. I was hacking school databases to change grades before we even moved to Nevada.”
“You . . . what?”
“How do you think we got an A in French? We were so shitty at it. Well, you were shitty at it, and I copied off you.”
Mira’s mouth dropped open slowly. “Emi . . . you told me participation bumped our grades.”
“Yes, and it pained me how gullible you were. Relax, I only tweaked that one of yours. You got into USC on your own merits. Mostly.”
Mira groaned. Fuck.
“Anyway, forget I said that. If you want to feel bad about something, feel bad about how you didn’t even say bye to me. That sucked.”
Mira’s eye twitched. She remembered. Her aunt had attended her graduation. Her father had been absent. The Matsuis had invited her out to eat with them, but she’d declined.
She’d come home that day, changed out of her clothes, and packed her bags. Rhea had tried to convince her to stay, told her that her dad was on a business trip, instead of holed up in some casino somewhere like Mira knew he was. She’d stood her ground. Finally, Rhea had agreed to help her find a studio in Los Angeles for the summer, until classes started.
She’d felt so free, all alone in her apartment on her own. She’d picked up the phone multiple times, those first couple months, to call Emi, but something had always stopped her. Like her brain couldn’t fathom letting even a good part from her past into her life.
Yes, perhaps it had been guilt that had her sending money to Emi’s family. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she managed.
“You’re damn right. You should have known better than anyone how much that sort of thing hurts, after Sejal did it to you.”
If Mira hadn’t been sitting, she would have taken a step back. As it was, she flinched. Emi continued to speak, but it turned into a bunch of babble to her ears.
No. She’d spent all this time mad and betrayed by her sister, and then she’d done the exact same thing? Ghosted Emi, grew distant with her aunt. Anything to forget her childhood and her father, even if it meant excising the ones she’d loved.
It had felt necessary at the time. Had it felt that necessary to Sejal back then, too? Had her sister spent her adulthood racked with guilt for reactive choices she’d made when she was a teenager raised in a dysfunctional home?
Her breath strangled. Her sister had been older than her, yes, but that didn’t mean Sejal should have stayed and been miserable for her. And she’d tell her that. If she saw her again.
“Mira? Mira!”
She shook her head, coming out of the fog. “I am so sorry,” she said, every word dripping in sincerity and anguish. “You’re absolutely right. I was terrible to do that to you.”
Emi studied her carefully. “While I wish you hadn’t ghosted me, my therapist has made me see that that had more to do with you than me.” Emi placed her hand over her heart dramatically. “I forgive you.”
The tightness in her chest eased, but not all the way. “Thank you. And thank your therapist. She’s right. It had nothing to do with you.”
Emi gave a decisive nod. “So. Tell me about Naveen?”
No, thank you. “There’s not much to tell.”
“Was he a one-night stand or something?”
“No!”
“Don’t say it like that. People have needs.”
Mira tucked her foot up underneath her, and suddenly it was like they were seventeen and in one of their bedrooms again. “I hired a matchmaker and she introduced us. We dated for about six months.”
“A human matchmaker?”
“Yes, a human one. What other kind is there?”
Emi spread her hands out. “I don’t know, algorithms are pretty advanced.”
“This was a woman. She goes by Hema Auntie, and she has a thriving business introducing South Asian singles looking for matrimony.”
“She sounds fascinating.”
“She has a one hundred percent track record for marriages. Or, ninety-nine percent. Thanks to me.” She missed her phone, but she didn’t miss the voicemail she probably had from Hema.