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Dad, she said internally, hoping that somewhere out there, he’d hear her.I’m sorry for ruining your funeral. I wish things had been different. I don’t know how to feel about what you did back then. Your drinking, your anger... What happened to me.Reeva paused her internal speech as she felt a tear well up in her eye.But I’m starting to realize what Satya Auntie meant, about how life isn’t an exam to pass or fail. I don’t need to feel a certain way—I can just feel how I feel. And I don’t need to forgive you or hate you. I can just accept it. What happened. It doesn’t mean I condone it. But I can accept that it happened.
Reeva felt a tightness loosen inside her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.I think I’m starting to get the mercy thing too. We’re all imperfect. I’ve made mistakes too. And, Dad, I respect the fact that you got sober. I know that’s not easy. And I’m grateful to you for staying away from us when you didn’t feel you were safe for us to be around. I know you cared for us and that you loved us in your way. It’s not necessarily what I wanted—I think I’ve been living in a bit of fantasy about you my entire life—but it’s what there is. And, Dad, inspite ofeverything, all the pain, I hope you’re okay in the afterlife. I hope you’re at peace. Don’t worry about me—I’m not mad at you anymore. I’m... I’m letting go. Bye, Dad. I... I love you.
A tear slid down Reeva’s cheek. Part of her really did love this man, with his IKEA-furnished house, his folder of mementoes of his daughters, his quiet life, and his odd group of friends who had religiously come to mourn him each night. She didn’t love the way he’d acted when he drank. But she didn’t have to approve of his behavior to love him. She could accept that he’d changed and done everything he could to make sure he never hurt any of them again. And she was grateful to him. For taking care of her during those early years and for continuing to care about her afterward. Reeva felt herself crying silently, shoulders shaking, as she thought about her father printing out her headshot from her firm’s website.
Reeva felt a hand slip into hers from her left side—it was Jaya. A knee pressed itself against her right leg. Sita. Across the circle, Lakshmi blew her a kiss.
She wasn’t alone. She had her sisters. Her infuriating, exhausting sisters. But they were family. And she loved them. If she applied the mercy thing to everyone, not just her dad, then there was no space for her to resent anyone anymore. She was equal to everyone in this garden—to everyone in this world. She finally truly understood the meaning of everything Satya Auntie had been telling her all this time. Reeva had been taking the tiny details of life so seriously, but in the face of death, none of it mattered. Her dad was gone. Her aunt was dying. And one day, she’d go too. Would she really care that Rakesh had left her for Jaya? Or that Nick’s ex was Hot Lips? Or that her sisters were rude and her mum was a self-centered drama queen? It wasn’t like she was perfect either.
Reeva closed her eyes tight and smiled. It was almost funny how much time she’d wasted worrying about things that didn’t matter. She had only one life, and she was determined toliveit. She had no idea how long she’d get to do that—with so much death happening around her, it no longer felt like a given that she’d reach old age. But Reeva knew exactly how she wanted to live the life she had left: as herself. It didn’t matter what happened next, whether her hair grew back or stayed bald and patchy forever. She was beautiful and loved, just the way she was. There was no point wishing things were different from how they were. All she wanted to do now was accept the reality that was her life rather than the imaginary one she’d been fantasizing about forever. To be thankful for what had been given to her, what had been taken away, and what had been left behind.
She opened her eyes. MJ was yawning stiffly. Nick looked fascinated by the priest’s actions. Saraswati was weeping delicately. Jaya was copying her. Satya Auntie was sitting stoically. Sita was trying to get the twins to sit still and not throw things in the priest’s fire. Lakshmi was eyeing up the ladoos off to the side. Rakesh was holding Jaya’s hand. Reeva waited for the familiar pang of pain to come, but she felt nothing. The Rakesh she’d known and loved was gone. This Rakesh was someone else—someone who was suitable for Jaya, not her. And she’d changed too. She wasn’t the anxious people-pleasing Reeva she used to be; she was simply herself. She knew that she still had a long journey ahead of her, especially when it came to processing everything that had happened, but she felt okay about it. Because for the first time in her life, Reeva Mehta could feel something that resembled inner peace.
CHAPTER 29
Day 264
Reeva appraised herreflection in the mirror. Her skin was golden after an unusually sunny June, and it looked radiant against her crisp white sundress. She’d paired it all with gold sandals, Satya Auntie’s favorite dangly earrings, and a white silk scarf tied in a bow on top of her head. Her baldness no longer shocked her the way it had all those months ago; she kind of liked the way her face looked without the softness of hair framing it. Some of her patches had healed, but new ones had cropped up at the same time, so Reeva had decided to stay bald while her head did its thing.
And she was proud of her alopecia. It reminded her to stay honest and vulnerable, and that healing wasn’t a linear thing. Besides, it meant she could look like Beyoncé whenever she wanted to. She took a step back from the mirror, wondering if her outfit needed something else. Lipstick. She reached for the tube and carefully applied a bright, bold red. There. Reeva was officially funeral ready.
“Finished checking yourself out?” Nick wandered into the bathroom behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
She smiled back at him in the mirror, leaning against his white T-shirt. “Just about. How’s it going downstairs?”
“The priest is still doing the rituals, but your family asked to pause for chai and croissants.”
“Naturally. Is the priest as livid as last time?”
“Oh yes. He didn’t even accept the pain au choc I offered him.”
Reeva turned to look at Nick. “Ah. That’ll be because our house is still impure post-death. You’re not meant to offer food and drinks to guests yet.”
He groaned. “Yet another rule I’ve broken.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. Like me learning how to stack your parents’ dishwasher the right way.”
“I’m pretty sure stacking the dishwasher poorly isn’t as bad as offending a Hindu priest.”
“I’m not sure your mum would agree.”
The door burst open. Sita—her hair piled high in a messy bun—stuck her head around the door. “Can you hurry up? I can’t stand watching Jaya take any more selfies with that baby of hers. It’s fucking ridiculous.”
Amisha and Alisha ran into the room. “Mummy said a bad word!”
“Yes, and she’s going to say another one if you don’t get downstairs right now,” replied Sita. “Go on! Go climb all over your favorite Saraswati. Get her to make you cucumber sticks again. She’s got grandma debts to make up for.” The twins ran out, thundering down the stairs.
Nick followed them. “I’ll try and make peace with the priest. See you downstairs, Reevs.”
Reeva turned to Sita. “So how is single-mum life? Better now that Mum is pulling her weight?”
Sita sat down on the edge of the bath, shifting her white cotton kurta so it didn’t crumple against her jeans. “Mildly better, but still fucking tiring.”
“You are swearing more than usual.”
“I know. And this is me on good behavior.” She looked up at Reeva. “If you ever have kids, please make sure you know what you’re signing up for. I thought everything would be easier without Nitin because he seemed to create problems rather than solve them, but it’s not. At least I could dump the girls on him while I washed my hair. Or went to the supermarket. But now, every time I leave them in a room alone, I end up with a paint-splattered couch or one of them covered in bruises. I think my local GP is about to call social services on me.”
“I can sort that,” said Reeva, sitting down on the closed loo seat. “Do something lawyerly and make it go away.”
