“I’ll be fine,” I snap back, even though the idea of being by myself in a hotel room in the dark for an indefinite amount of time is a little terrifying.
He shakes his head, his eyes dark. Thunderous. “You don’t even have a working phone, Meena. You can’t…Do you know how bad this one is supposed to be? You think the hotel staff is going to be able to take care of all its guests if something happens?” He pauses, and some of the anger leaves his face, replaced by a flash of something raw and vulnerable. “You’d really rather be there? You’d really rather go through all of this alone?”
I’m tempted to say “yes.” To fling that word out there and stand my ground, but the idea of being by myself in a shabby hotel while violent rain and winds pound at my window has lost a good amount of its appeal.
I need to be honest with myself. As much as I hate it, escape is not an option.
“No,” I say quietly, acceptance and dread traveling through me. “That makes sense. I’ll…I’ll stay here.”
Nikhil watches me blankly for a moment. He opens his mouth, as if he’s about to say something more, but he must change his mind because he shuts it, nodding instead.
He turns away, heading farther into the house, and I have no choice but to follow after him.
3
A jittery sensation buzzes beneath my skin, but I clamp down on the panic by engaging in the one activity that always calms me down: making a list. In order of priority, I need to make sure that I
1. inform my boss that I’m going to be in Houston longer than I had planned;
2. assist in whatever hurricane prep Nikhil thinks we need to do;and
3. survive the storm while keeping as far away from my ex-husband as possible.
Well, soon-to-be ex-husband. Once I can get him to sign off on these divorce papers. We still haven’t discussed the divorce in detail, which I suppose is understandable under the circumstances.
It’s strange. I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I don’t understand why Nikhil wouldn’t just respond to the papers in the first place. We haven’t been in touch in six years. Haven’t seen or talked to each other in all that time.
In the early days of our separation, I’d been so sure he’d comeafter me. That we’d reconcile. That it had all just been a misunderstanding. I’d imagined him flying up to D.C. and makingsome big grand gesture, apologizing, and trying to win me back.
But he never did.
He’s never once reached out. He obviously hasn’t wanted to and is obviously not interested in having a relationship with me at all. So, why won’t he sign off on this divorce? It wouldn’t change a thing between us. It would just make our separation official.
It’s the next item on my to-do list:
4. Figure out why Nikhil’s been holding out, get him to sign the papers, then leave and never come back here again.
Nikhil is rattling off instructions about the prep we need to do before the storm and I’m nodding along until he comes to asudden stop and tilts his head. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah, yeah. I am.”
He crosses his arms. “Really,” he drawls, long and slow. “You weren’t just tuning me out and making some kind of pro/con list in your head?”
“No,” I say sharply, a bit unnerved by how close he got to the truth.
“Ah, a to-do list, then. Or maybe you’re mentally rearranging your work calendar. I’m sure all of this,” he says, waving a hand in the air, “really threw a wrench in your plans.”
He’s watching me with an all too knowing look on his face. As if after all these years, he still understands the way my mind works. As if he can still figure out exactly what I’m thinking. As if he still somehow has a right to.
The back of my neck grows hot, and I feel prickly. Irritated.
“It did,” I snap. “Trust me, I wasn’t planning on being here asecond longer than I had to. I’m leaving as soon as this storm is done. As soon as you sign the papers.”
His expression darkens. “Well, if you’re hoping to make it out of here in one piece, you’re going to need to pay attention. I was saying that we’ll have to stay away from the windows.
“We’re going to board up the big ones, but I don’t know if we can get to all of them. And the boarding may not even help that much. The glass might shatter regardless.”
“Fine,” I say.
