Page 99 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“Why are you here?” I frowned at her betrayal. “Did Dad call you too?”

“Yes, but I only came for Grant’s scotch.” She grinned, and Grant shook his head.

“And you broke up with Sona, didn’t you?” Grant said. I didn’t need to ask how he knew. We got one another so well, it was frightening. That’s why the disappointment on his face cut me like a knife.

When Len left an hour later, Grant poured us another round. Mikey had abstained that evening.

“Women like Sona don’t come along every day, Mir, not for men like you and me. I promised her I wouldn’t let you hurt her, so gather your fucking self together and get her back. Don’t let your ego, or whatever crisis of identity you’re facing right now, stand between you and her. You’ll regret it for life.”

“Listen to him,” Mike said. “There’ll always be time to fix this, but if you lose Sona, you might not get another chance.”

“Well said, Mike, and we need to talk about that cupcake baker chick. You thought you could hide her from me,” Grant deadpanned.

Mike grunted. “I knew this was coming.”

“Does she like you?” Grant inquired.

“Yes,” I interjected and they both looked at me.

Mike slumped in his seat and tossed his head back. “I don’t know. And don’t call her chick, man!” He looked at Grant with disgust. “It’s demeaning. Saavi deserves more respect than that. She’s been through a lot already.”

Grant grinned, and Mike grunted. It was Grant’s way of getting him to spill the truth.

“Well played,” Mike said. “I need to get to bed. I’ve pushed back my morning procedure, but I still need to be well-rested.”

After Mike left, Grant stayed with me until I fell asleep. I had no idea if he’d slipped out later that night or in the morning, but I saw a sticky note on the coffee maker when I woke up.

Call your parents. Call Sona.

I heeded one of those commands. I called my parents and went over.

I’d imagined it would be an uphill battle to convince them that I needed to find my birth mother, but their angst and anger had mellowed. Even though I had done nothing to alleviate either. I had continued being an asshole, clinging to my grudges, to my feelings of resentment and betrayal, while leaving my poor parents alone to manage their own distress.

“We understand,” Dad said and handed me a piece of paper. “This is Jayant’s address. This is all we have. I wrote to him for several years after we moved here, so I know he lived at the address for a while. The last time we communicated was over email almost ten years ago, so I don’t know if he moved or…”

If he’s alive.

I took the paper from him.

“I met Sharda only once,” he continued. “We don’t know anything about her beyond her name. Jayant knows the brothel she worked at, but we have no other information. No picture either.”

I nodded courteously. “I’m sorry,” I said, my eyes lowered in deference.

They responded with silence.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, Mom,” I said with my eyes still on the floor. I heard nothing back, but I dared not look at her. I was terrified of confronting the sorrow in those eyes.

“Will you have dinner with us?” she asked after a few silent moments.

I looked up and shook my head. “I’m meeting someone for dinner.”

Her body perked up. “Is Sona here?”

I hadn’t told them I had broken up with her. I was surprised she hadn’t heard. Sameer and Tara were better friends than I’d given them credit for after the breakup.

“No, Mom…we…I…She’s not here.”

Mom nodded and studied me for a moment. “I hope you were kind,” she said with a distinct sadness in her voice. When I gave a quizzical look, she said, “When you ended your relationship.”

---