Page 28 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“Okay…did you mean to hurt him?”

“I don’t know!” I threw my head back, still talking in Marathi. “It just came bursting out, and I didn’t stop it.”

“Tara, can I ask you something?” Sona switched to English.

“Hmm.”

“Why do you care?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said those hurtful things. He got annoyed or angry or whatever, and he left. Why does that bother you? Why does it matter to you that he’s upset?”

When I fumbled for a satisfactory answer, she said, “You’ve been angry at him for a long time. You said you wanted nothing to do with him. If this episode burns the bridge between you two, isn’t that a good thing?”

My silence dragged on.

“Unless you were actually trying to mend that broken bridge. Were you?” she added softly.

“I don’t know. Why can’t I let him go, Sona?”

“Because you haven’t had closure, my love. You haven’t told him what’s hurting you. And you haven’t heard why he left. Maybe you should talk to him and get it out of your system.”

I leaned back and closed my eyes. “All I know is that what I said was impulsive and vindictive.”

“Well, what’s done is done. The question is, what do you want to do now? You can try and talk to him, be the bigger person and apologize. Or you can both carry your resentments and move on with your lives. How do you want to resolve this, babe?”

“I haven’t decided,” I said, and I heard a sigh at the other end. “How’s my mom?”

“She’s good. I went over for dinner last night. She made mutton curry. We called, but you didn’t answer.”

“I fell asleep on the couch. I called her this morning, but she must’ve been asleep.”

“Oh, we went to the park together. I ran. She walked.”

“Dammit, Sona,” I wailed. “You’re getting all the motherly love that’s rightfully mine.”

She chuckled. “Then come back soon. She misses you. We all do. Especially your knight in shining armor.”

“Don’t start. Alright, I’ll hang up now. I need to call him too.”

“Wow, great friend you are! You’ll hang up on me to call him.”

I smiled. “Yeah, yeah. Talk to you soon? Hey, thank you for today. I love you.”

“Love you too. Stay sensible.”

I laughed and hung up. Cramming my stuff into my bag, I left the café.

Last year, a friend introduced me to Sujit Rao, who was looking to buy artwork for his family home as a gift for his parents. He was a striking man, intimidating with his tall figure, and commanding in the way he conducted himself.

We met at a fancy bistro to discuss his preferences.

“I need to be honest with you,” he said, looking at me through his clear glasses set in stylish metal rims. “I’m clueless about my aesthetic sensibilities. I’ve no idea what I like or what looks good, so I’m hesitant to contact a gallery.”

I smiled. “At least you know that. You might not know what you want, but I have a feeling you’ll know when you see it.”

“I’m looking for something that speaks to my family, to us as individuals. Do you think that’s too ambitious, or too vague?”

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