A while later, Gehna continued to count things off on the digits of her fingers. ‘. . . candle-maker, pro-tennis player. They get to wear those cute skirts.’ She looked over to confirm that the Yam agreed but found her asleep, with the bowl of popcorn cradled loosely in her arms. Gehna picked it up and cleared the rest of the empty platters off the bed. She turned the air conditioning up to high and spread a comforter over her friend. Then she went to the bathroom to wipe her face with toner. It was 2 a.m. There wasn’t much to do. Gehna knew she should go to bed immediately or risk the sadness coming on.

What I’ll do is, I’ll smoke one ciggie out on the balcony. Have a think about things. And then it’s off to Bedshahpur for me.

The rain had stopped. The only sign that it had ever come at all was the clean smell in the air and the occasional whoosh of a car speeding by on the wet roads. Gehna leaned against the balustrade and lit one of the Yam’s Camel Lights. She didn’t enjoy smoking for its own sake and almost never did. But, sometimes, and she had no idea why this was the case, it helped anchor her when she was feeling lost. She felt tougher with a cigarette in her fingers, more like the kind of person that could take care of business. And if anyone had business to take care of, it was Gehna.

She abruptly remembered that there was a baby inside her and stubbed out the cigarette. It was so easy to forget. Or rather, it was hard to believe. She still looked the same as before. Junior college was over, so she didn’t have to walk the corridors pretending not to notice all the whispering behind her back. The Yam, when she told her the news, had lost her mind for about five minutes but otherwise pretty much behaved as though Gehna had a flu that would pass. She hadn’t heard from her parents since the night of the dinner. So, even though everything was different now, nothing had really changed. It’s no wonder I’m slugging bourbon and smoking pot. Where’s the drama? Maybe I should get one of those ‘Baby On Board’ bumper stickers and walk around with it pasted on my butt.

Perhaps for the first time in her life Gehna found herself without a plan. It was disorienting. She liked having things to look forward to—a book launch by a favoured author, a holiday, a date—and prepared for each with the thoroughness of a military quartermaster. Lists were written up and research was conducted. But now, in this pivotal time in her life, when she thought about the future, all she could see was grey fog.

But Gehna needn’t have worried. Life has a way of filling in the gaps. She heard her phone ring somewhere inside the Yam’s bedroom.