He stepped back, and she immediately dropped her arms.
“It’s fine,” she said, watching him closely. His retreat placed his face under one of the few light poles, and the traces of tears left on his cheek glistened. She took a small step toward him, lifting her hand to his jaw, wiping a tear away with her thumb.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.
A breeze swept through the parking lot, and it ran through his hair, scattering it in every direction. She watched it in fascination,absentmindedly moving her thumb back and forth across his cheek. He cleared his throat, and she withdrew her hand, placing it back at her side.
His face had returned to its usual stoic and cold expression, though there might have been a new tenderness and vulnerability in his eyes. “No,” he said, a bit hoarsely. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She could understand that. She didn’t know what had happened, but she couldn’t imagine that Karthik cried easily. And certainly not in front of people. She’d let it go for now, give him some space, and check back in with him later.
“Okay,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Do you want to come inside? I can’t promise the show will be amazing, but you’ll get to watch middle schoolers sing in horrible Cockney accents about the rain in Spain.”
He let out a short, dry laugh. It sounded forced to her ears, but she was still relieved to hear it.
“Absolutely,” he said.
She wrapped a hand around his elbow and led him to the cafeteria. She was about to take him to a seat in the audience, but stopped, suddenly remembering.
“My parents are coming tonight,” she told Karthik. “Is that okay?”
She scanned his face. Besides a bit of redness near his eyes, he didn’t look like he had been crying. Most people would probably chalk it up to allergies. Still, she didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. He hadn’t responded to her question yet, but the uncertainty on his face made it clear that he hadn’t expected her parents would be there.
“You could come hang out with me backstage,” Meghna offered before he could say anything. “It’ll be chaotic and you won’t be able to see the performance as well as you would from the audience, but…”
“That sounds perfect,” he said.
She took him to their makeshift “backstage” area and found a chair for him. She’d be running around for most of the show, but he’d be able to watch some of it from this spot in the wings.
“Oi. Ms. Raman, is this yer boyfriend?”
Meghna turned, following the sound of sixth grader Aidan’s voice. A few students had gathered around them and were watching Karthik curiously.
“Great job staying in character, Aidan,” Meghna replied. “And yes, he’s my boyfriend.”
“Fiancé,” Karthik interjected.
“Right. That’s what I meant. He’s my fiancé.”
Her students grinned at them, their teeth bright and white against their faces, which were streaked in stage makeup that resembled soot.
She clapped her hands. “Okay, guys. That’s enough gawking. Karthik’s going to be sitting here all night, but don’t bother him untilafterthe show’s over.”
He raised an eyebrow at that, and she returned the gesture with a wink. Not waiting for his reaction, she took off, corralling her straggling students into their starting places. She managed to get everyone where they needed to be in record time and did a final check with the parent volunteers who were standing by to assist with costume changes and props. Right as she finished, the lights in the cafeteria dimmed, and the beginnings of the overture played. She took a deep breath and crossed her fingers.
Showtime.
Meghna had never experienced this exact combination of exhilaration and exhaustion. She simultaneously felt like she could fly and like she might pass out at any moment. But the night had been a success. Numerous parents had congratulated her, and the principal had pulled her aside, saying she wanted to ask the school board for funds to put on another performance next semester. Meghna wasn’t ready to think about all the work that would take, but she was excited that the school was finally seeing the value of having a theater program.
The kids were all accounted for and were beginning to leave, so Meghna was finally free to go out and greet her parents. She walked into the audience alone, having previously decided it was best to leave Karthik backstage. He looked more like himself now, but she didn’t want her parents asking questions about why he was here. Not that she really knew what he was doing here, either. Beyond a quick “congratulations,” Karthik hadn’t said anything to her since the performance began. She hoped she’d get some answers from him later tonight.
“Great job, Meghna,” her father said, wrapping her up in a hug.
“Thanks, Dad. And thanks for coming.” Part of her hadn’t been sure if her parents would show up at all. They said they were proud of her, but she couldn’t help but compare the way they talked about her job to the way they talked about Samir’s career. There was a certain amount of respect in their voices when they talked about Samir that just wasn’t present when they talked about her. They had initially been disappointed when she’d decided to become a teacher, but her father had gotten on board fairly quickly. It was her mother who still couldn’t understand why she would choose to be anything other than an engineer. But she’d never have her mother’s approval. She had learned to accept that a long time ago.
As predicted, her mother offered some half-hearted words of praise and a reminder that Meghna still needed to respond to her email about venue options for the wedding. After promising to do so and to stop by the house for dinner next week, her parents said their goodbyes and Meghna went backstage one last time to collect Karthik. He was still sitting on the same stool where she’d left him, looking out at the stage with an unfocused expression.
“Hey, you ready to go?”
