Page 51 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“It’s alright, Aunty. I think I’ll go home.” Tara politely refused the offer. “I didn’t bring any extra clothes or anything else for that matter.”

“That’s alright, beta. I’ll give you some nightclothes and other things.” She stood from the couch to make the necessary arrangements. “Anyway, Amar is going to Sameer’s for the weekend. Maybe they can drop you off on their way. Where do you live, Tara?”

“Uptown.”

“Oh.” Mom turned to her. “Are you close to Sameer’s place?”

Tara shifted in her seat. “A few blocks away.”

Mom looked at me, then at her. I directed my calm eyes at Aarti.

“I’m sorry to cause trouble, Aunty,” Tara said. “This is really awkward.”

“Don’t feel awkward, beta. You’re Amar’s friend. This is your home,” Mom reassured Tara with a smile.

I followed Mom upstairs while she instructed me on the proper way to prepare for a guest.

When I returned, Aarti was ready to leave. “Sorry, I can’t stay,” she said as she kissed my cheek at the door. “Got an early morning tomorrow.”

Things couldn’t have turned out better if I had tried.

Chapter 15

Sameer

When Dad retired to his room, Mom cast me the same knowing look again. I had put off talking to him about Riya for two weeks now. Shame and guilt were the two main culprits, although my anger was a worthy accomplice.

I found Dad in the monstrous armchair in their bedroom with his hand wrapped around an empty glass, as if that were the only thing keeping him alive. A proud decanter of whisky stood by him on a table. During the day, its facets caught the brilliant light streaming in from the bay windows. Right now, it looked restrained, much like my father.

“Dad, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

His dazed eyes traveled up to me.

“It’s about Sangita,” I said, lowering myself to the edge of the bed. He turned his head away from me. “She’s unwell.”

The soft tone I used was a calculated move to invoke some emotion, but I found nothing more than dispassion in his glassy eyes.

“So? Throw more money at her,” he cried. “You’re good at that.”

“She has cancer, Dad. She might not make it.” This got me the intended reaction as he struggled to sit upright. Terror had now replaced the indifference in his eyes.

“Can I pour you another?” Stepping over to the table, I poured him a splash. He gulped it down. I dispensed another shot and gently placed the glass in his hands.

“Riya will need a home,” I said. “I’m working on bringing her here.”

“So now that bastard child will live with us?” he cried with anger. It wasn’t long ago that I had used the same vile word to describe her.

“Don’t say that. I regret how I handled things with Sangita, but I’m especially sorry I left Riya when she was only an infant. I want to make up for my mistakes. Can you support me?”

He scoffed. “So now the all-powerful Sameer Rehani needs my support? When did you ever heed my word? I told you thirteen years ago, but you decided you knew better.”

“You didn’t tell me, Dad.” I corrected him gently. “You threatened me.”

“And you threatened me back—” His gaze darted behind me.

I turned around to see Mom standing at the door. She made strong eye contact with the both of us before turning on her heel and walking away. With a sigh, I crouched to the floor in front of Dad.

Placing my hand on his, I said, “Will you help me bring Riya here? You know I can’t do it without your signature on that paper. She needs her father. She needs you.”

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