Samir set his book aside and held her gaze. A gentle breeze blew a strand of his black hair against his forehead. “Okay.”
Pinky took a deep breath. And then she told him exactly what Meera Mausi had told her.
Samir stared at her for a long moment after she was done. “So the Shark used to be the Hurricane?” He shook his head, as if he were having just as hard a time believing it as she was.
“Yeah. Apparently.”
“Wow.” He blew out a breath. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
He studied her, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Why…? Why do you seem bummed out? It’s good news, right? Your mom used to be just like you. You guys have more in common than—”
“Sam.” Pinky pinched the bridge of her nose. Why was no one seeing the truth? “She had to give it all up because of me. Every day that she wakes up and sees me is a reminder of what she had and what she lost.”
Samir frowned. “Are you sure? Because it seems to me like she changed her life for the better. She’s more independent and successful—”
“No, look. She and I are alike, somewhere, deep down, right?”
Samir nodded.
“I can imagine what I’d feel if I had to give my life up for some kid. If I had to go get a corporate job to be able to support her. If my parents basically disowned me. I’d hold a giant grudge against my kid, Samir. I know exactly what my mom is feeling.”
He was quiet, as if he couldn’t think of what else to say. Well, that made two of them. Finally, he leaned forward. “Do you wanna go take a walk or something?”
“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”
* * *
Pinky hopped down from the lowest tree branch. Drama Queen took one look at her, keeled over, and died. Sighing, Pinky stuffed her into her tote bag and turned to Samir. “I think we can just leave our cushions and books here, at the base of the tree. We won’t be far, and I don’t think anyone’s going to take them.”
They sauntered off through the habitat, their feet sinking into the grass as they went.
“So what do you plan to do?” Samir asked. “With this new info you have about your mom?”
Pinky shrugged, letting the warm sunshine seep in through the top of her head and into her bones. “I don’t know. I guess nothing. It gives me a clearer picture of why she hates me. And please don’t tell me she doesn’t.”
“Hey,” Samir said, after a moment. “Thank you. For sharing that with me.”
Pinky studied him over her shoulder. “Thanks for listening.” Her heart beat a little bit faster as she blurted out, “Thanks for always listening. For always being there.” She wasn’t sure why she was saying it now, except that suddenly the idea of untruths or half-truths made her want to scream. And it was obvious to her now that things she’d thought were true were obviously blatant lies. So what else in her life might she be wrong about? What other “unassailable truths” were actually complete fabrications? For instance, the idea that someone like her couldn’t be with someone like Samir. How true was that when people were so utterly malleable and changeable?
They wound their way through a maze of rhododendron bushes, deeper into the habitat, past a cluster of chestnut trees. There were a few different varieties of butterflies flitting around them now, mourning cloaks and monarchs and Eastern black swallowtails. Pinky added, “I know that wasn’t in the job description when I asked you to come out here.”
“I don’t mind,” Samir replied, as a question mark landed lightly on his shoulder before taking off.
They went deeper into the habitat still, until they came to a little spot with a bench and a fountain. Pinky remembered, vaguely, “helping” her dad set the bench up when she was four years old. As she remembered, she’d sat on it and bossed him around in her four-year-old drawl. She turned to Samir by the fountain, now dry, thanks to the heat wave, and set the tote bag with DQ in it down. “What you said before, in the attic. About me not feeling the same way about you?”
He was suddenly still, sunshine glinting red in his dark hair. “Yeah.”
Pinky took a deep breath. She opened her mouth and closed it again, looking around them at the bench, the silent fountain, the piercing blue sky. Then she forced herself to say, “That’s not entirely true.”
A muscle in Samir’s jaw twitched. “No?” he said carefully.
“Actually, that’s not true at all.” Pinky took a step closer to him. Two blue butterflies perched on them, one on Samir’s arm, one on hers. “Samir… I like you too.”
The effect of her words was immediate—his eyes brightened, and his mouth curved into a small smile. “Really?”
“But—”
He hung his head. “But.”
She waited until he looked back at her. “But I’m scared,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. A big monarch butterfly landed in her hair and then flitted away. “I’ve always been the one who doesn’t give a damn, the one who has a litany of no-good boyfriends, the black sheep of the family. Frankly, I’ve liked being the black sheep. It’s easy and there aren’t any expectations to fulfill. And if I date someone like you…” She trailed off for a moment and then said, “That’s not even saying how different we are. How can we hope to make something of these feelings that won’t end up in total disaster?”
A bright blue butterfly hovered between them, as if listening in on their conversation. Samir put a hand to her cheek. She laid her head against his palm and closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the strength of him, in the warmth of him. “Pinky, I don’t know the answer to that. No one can. People who seem perfect for each other on paper end up being total disasters. People who are completely opposite end up being happy. I don’t think there’s really a way to tell which relationship is going to work out and which one isn’t.” He paused. “As for your other question… I don’t know that either. I don’t know what it would say about you if you were to date someone like me. And I don’t know what it’d say about me if I were to invite your beautiful, mind-spinning chaos into my life.” He chuckled, a thick strand of his hair lifting in a warm, gentle breeze. “The only thing I know is that I’m happier with you than without. Maybe you should ask yourself that question. Are you happier with me or without?” He was trying to say it neutrally, Pinky could tell, but his voice shook at the end. Her answer really mattered to him, she realized.
Pinky thrilled. “Really?” she whispered. “Do you really mean that? You’re happier with me than without?”
“So much happier,” he said, gazing right into her eyes.
Pinky knew it was completely awkward to ask him what she was about to ask him next, but she found the words coming out in spite of herself. She had to know. Before she made any big decisions, she needed to know once and for all. “Samir… What do you think of Dolly? She’s… pretty perfect for you, right?”
After a brief, confused pause, he smiled at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. His hands slipped from her cheeks to her waist as he pulled her close. “Pinky Kumar,” he said softly, his gaze slowly sliding down over her face to her lips. “There is no one like you. And there is no one who makes me feel the way you do.”