Page 37 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“Yes.” Pulling in a soft breath, I ran my fingers through my hair.

“She’s not well.”

My hand flew up in disdain. “Wow, that’s new!”

“I don’t appreciate that tone, Sameer. Call me back when you’re ready to talk like an adult.”

“I’m sorry, Ma. Go on.” Quickly and quietly, I resigned to Mom’s reprimanding me as if I were a child and asking me to be an adult in the same breath. It was a battle I couldn’t win.

“She has cancer. It’s serious.”

I lost my tongue for a moment. Basic human decency mandated that I feel sorry for her, but given her history with the family, my defenses were rightfully up.

“Is this a ploy to get more money?” I asked gently, not wanting to alienate Mom.

“I sent her to Vishal. He’s been treating her.”

Mom’s cousin, Vishal, was an oncologist in Delhi.

I paused for thought. “When did she call you, Ma?”

“A few months back,” she said after a deep silence that I didn’t break for effect.

“When, Ma?” I demanded in a voice I had never used with her before.

“He’s been treating her for almost a year now.”

“A year!” I jumped off my seat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For this reason. I knew how you’d react. I didn’t want to involve you unless it was necessary.”

“My involvement is always necessary when it comes to her.” I rubbed my forehead with my free hand as I paced around my living room. “But you shouldn’t get involved, Mom. And how does she even know how to get in touch with you? I’m paying the lawyers an outrageous amount of money to keep her out of our lives.”

Mom chose silence again.

“Ma.”

“I had sent her my number two years ago.” She confessed in a barely audible voice.

“What? Why?” I cried. “Why would a sensible woman like you do something like that?”

“For Riya. In case she needed anything.”

“Mom!”

I couldn’t decide who the target of my anger was at that moment. Mom, who had reinstated the woman back in our lives after I had spent the better part of my youth trying to keep her away? Or Sangita, who had managed to crawl her way back to us? Or the universe that had played this cruel joke?

“I know you’re angry,” Mom said softly, “but it’s not the little girl’s fault. She shouldn’t be paying the price for her parents’ mistakes.”

“It wasn’t a mistake. It was cheating, knowing and deliberate.”

“What’s the use of rehashing all that, beta? We know what happened, and we moved on.”

“It’s not over though, is it? Here she is again.”

“The only person who matters now is Riya. She’ll need you if anything untoward happens to Sangita.”

But I didn’t want to think about that little girl, who must be almost a teenager now.

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