‘Don’t you want some more?’ Button asked, already on her second helping. Morosely, I shook my head.

‘You should talk some sense into your friend.’ Uncle turned to me. ‘I’ve been telling Imon to go abroad, to go wherever she wants, but she seems stuck on staying here.’

Cookie calmly ate another spoon of mousse. ‘I’m not leaving home yet, Baba. But I’ll think about it for my Masters.’

‘Me neither,’ said Button, finishing off the last of the mousse at a rate that was equal parts alarming and amusing.

‘Well, I for one am very happy to hear that,’ said Aunty. ‘It’s bad enough to think of Tara leaving.’

Button snorted. ‘Aunty, don’t be so polite. You know it’ll be a relief to get rid of this baboon.’

I stuck my tongue out at her. ‘You’re just jealous because Aunty loves me more. And we should get going. I have to be home before The Wolf gets mad.’

Uncle walked us to the door. As I was leaving, he slipped a thick bar of Milka into my hand. It was my favourite kind of chocolate, saccharine and a rare treat unavailable on Indian shores.

‘You’re too young to start denying yourself the things that make you happy, kid.’

I grinned and gave him a hug, going home comforted by Aunty’s food and Uncle’s gentle existence, enveloped in the warm glow of Cookie’s happy family.

That night, after several unsuccessful attempts at studying for a political science exam, I collapsed on my favourite seat by the window in my bedroom, reliving the disastrous call to Jay for the hundredth time. Glumly, I acknowledged the fact that I could never call him again after that. Could I? Should I?

Button’s immediate opinion on the matter was required. I picked up my phone to call her, and started as it began vibrating in my hand, flashing a number on the little green screen.

9810000001

Fuck.

I answered.

‘Hey! Did you call me?’

FUCK.

‘Um, yeah, sorry about that.’

He laughed. My stomach turned.

‘Unnecessary apology. Tara, right? What’s up?’

‘Oh, I—it wasn’t anything specific. Nothing really, you must be busy, I’ll catch you later!’

‘I’m free now. Tell me.’

I felt some combination of embarrassed and indebted, but not in a terrible way.

‘Well, it’s nothing important. I just wanted to talk to someone.’

‘All right. Let’s talk. How was your new year’s eve?’

‘Quiet. Not at all like Rio must have been.’

He laughed again. ‘Patience, dear girl. You’ll get there. How old are you?’

‘Seventeen.’

‘Mm, go before you’re twenty-one.’

‘Why?’

‘Some things are just better experienced in the first flush of adulthood.’

‘How so?’

‘You’ll see. By the way, have you read any Nabokov?’

‘I’ve read Lolita.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘I’m pleasantly surprised.’

‘Why?’

‘And curious. What did you think of it?’