Page 34 of Memories of the Lost

“And you?” the girl asked Liam. “Will you sign it, too?”

“Nah,” he said with a grin. “It’s her work, not mine.”

She was disappointed but so happy to have the sketch that she hugged it to her chest. “Thank you! Enjoy your meal!”

For a few minutes, they dug into the food. Quiet Indian ragas played on the overhead speakers. In the kitchen, the server and a malecook talked, but their words were an indistinguishable roll of sound. Tillie relished the flavors of the sandwich, thinking of her mother and the many, many times they’d come here together. It occurred to her that this would likely be the last time she’d ever visit. The thought gave her a sharp sense of loss.

It stung enough that she set down her sandwich and took a big gulp of tea, trying to cool the threatening tears. To distract herself, she asked, “What kind of meditation do you lead?”

“Pretty classic mindful meditation. Buddhist roots. Do you practice?”

“No. I mean, sometimes when I go to yoga or something, but not regularly.” The pinch in her midchest eased. “Did you grow up with it?”

“Nah. I had a bit of a rocky period and landed in India in my twenties.” He wiped his fingers on a napkin. “To be honest, it wasn’t pretty. Strung out, exhausted, brokenhearted—all of it. I visited Varanasi and the Ganges.” He pronounced itGanga. “It changed things.”

She imagined him, grimy and weary, sitting on the banks of the famous river. “The Mother River, right? Isn’t that what they call it?”

“Right. It wasn’t the river so much as the people. Like all these people believe in something so much that they sometimes walk hundreds of miles on bare feet. They make sacrifices to honor their pilgrimage.” He held her gaze, and she felt the squishy discomfort of a nonspiritual person, afraid he would—what? Proselytize?

Instead, he said with a half smile, “It was humbling, and I realized I’d been a spoiled little shit.”

It made her laugh. “That moment of growing up.”

“Yeah. So I started wandering with a purpose, just to explore what I thought about. I mean, there are a lot of sacred sites all over the country, so I made my way to some of them—the Bodhi Tree and the spring of the Ganges. I read a ton. I spent some time in a monastery, learning to meditate, and since women had been a problem for me, I was celibate for two years.”

“What does that mean? That women were a problem?”

A twitch of his shoulders. “I was given to falling in and out of love a little too much.”

Tillie’s body reacted to this, that it was easy for him to fall in love—and out. He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes. An irritable adult in her mind argued,For God’s sake, it’s not like it’s going to be anything—he lives on the other side of the world.

She picked up her sandwich. “So then what?”

“I went back home and made things right with my family and started trying to figure out where I fit. One of my mentors nudged me toward this work, teaching, and it’s been good.”

“Hmm.” She realized she was enjoying the pleasure of the sandwich and the tea and the sight of his face across the table in equal parts. Something tense let go, but she couldn’t really think of what to say to all that earnestness.

“It makes you uncomfortable,” he said.

“Maybe.” She shook her head, wiped avocado from her fingers. “Religion, spirituality, all of it feels a little ... silly, I guess.”

“And yet you paint fairies and magical beings.”

She laughed. “So I do.”

His slow smile was everything.

“Do you have time this afternoon for me to sketch you?” she asked.

He held her gaze. “I do.”

“Let’s get back to the city, then.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Her car was not huge. Liam sat right next to her, smelling of cinnamon from the tea. As the miles sailed by, she sang along with the music unselfconsciously, and he told stories of his travels, making her laugh but also offering moments of struggle. She told stories about hers. The unspoken agreement about what would transpire when they got back to her apartment hummed below everything, breathed in the spare touch he brushed over her hand on the gearshift, whispered in the sound of his voice. Tillie hummed with anticipation, feeling suspended in some magic spell he’d cast with his lively voice, his big hands.

When they pulled into the parking garage, she turned off the car.