10 Things I Hate About Pinky - Sandhya Menon Page 0,61

someone.” There was definitely a pulse of something he wasn’t getting, but he wasn’t sure what it was.

“Oh, um, that’s the other thing. I kind of told Dolly that we’re not really dating.”

Samir sat up. “You what?”

“No, she’s cool with it. She won’t say anything.”

Samir made a face even though he knew she couldn’t see it; he wasn’t thrilled about letting another person in on the secret. Even if that person was steady, calm Dolly. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

They lapsed into silence again. Samir tried to listen for the soothing sound of the ocean waves; he was trying really hard not to freak out that Pinky had broken the rules again. Rules were there for a reason. Why would she do that? What would possess—

Okay, no. Soothing ocean. Ahhh. Nice and calm.

A moment later, the chair creaked as Pinky swung her legs back over and sat up straight. Oblivious to Samir’s inner struggle, she wrapped her arms around herself and said, “I wish my mom would open her eyes a little more. Not once did she ask me if there might be an alternative explanation. Not once. It was like it was so easy for her to believe the worst about me.”

Samir slipped out of his suit jacket and laid it across her shoulders.

“I’m not cold,” Pinky said immediately, her eyes flashing in the glow of the stars. “It’s only, like, sixty degrees.”

“Really?” Samir raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re literally shaking. I can hear the chains of your dress clattering together.”

Pinky sighed. “Okay, maybe a little.” He saw movement as she pulled the jacket closer around her and settled against the chair.

Into the silence, Samir said gently, “Did you ever try to tell your mom how much she hurt you by accusing you?”

“Why bother?” Samir could tell Pinky was trying to sound like she didn’t care, but the skin of hurt hanging on her words belied her. “It’s not like she’ll ever change.”

When Samir was quiet, she turned to look at him. He couldn’t make out her expression, but her tone was half-sarcastic, half-amused as she said, “Let me guess. You totally believe people can change.”

Samir chuckled. “Of course I do.”

“Of course you do.”

“But listen, people change all the time. Maybe not in big, profound ways, but in little, incremental ways that end up changing essential parts of them anyway. It’s like a Rubik’s Cube—you start with one line at a time, and then everything begins to fit together.”

Pinky was silent for a moment. “So… is that what happened to you? When your mom got sick, you changed in incremental ways that changed the essence of who you were?”

Samir felt his shoulders automatically stiffen. He didn’t like talking about this; actually, he’d never talked about it with anyone. But he’d asked for honesty from Pinky and she’d given it to him. It felt only fair that he should do the same. “Yeah, I guess so. Being organized and in control was a matter of survival back then. Now it just feels like… something I should do.”

Pinky turned to him, her chair squeaking. “But why? Why do you feel like you should?”

He hadn’t actually realized he’d said ‘should.’ “Maybe ‘wanted to’ would’ve been a better fit.”

“But you said ‘should.’ ”

He didn’t respond. A cool wind rippled over them again, and Pinky huddled into his jacket. The breeze felt good to Samir, brisk and cleansing.

“Do you feel like something bad will happen if you don’t control and organize everything?” Pinky asked softly.

He turned sharply to meet her eye. No one had ever asked him that before. No one had ever… guessed that before. It wasn’t something he usually thought about consciously, and if he did, he quickly brushed past it. But that, right there, was the kernel of his truth: Samir was afraid that if he slipped up, if he gave up the intense vigilance over his own life, that everything would come crumbling down around him like it had seven years ago. He felt like he’d been given a second chance when his mom kicked cancer in the ass and that he’d somehow contributed by being hypervigilant, by making sure no mistakes were made with any of her routines. And now, irrational as it might be, he felt that he was helping keep cancer at bay by continuing to be so vigilant, so dedicated, so rigid.

But there was no way he was going to say all this to Pinky of all people. Pinky, who saw him as some buttoned-up tax accountant.