Her father had not really said anything. He looked around, and Annika went to tend to the chai for something to do. She added the chai masala and the loose tea to the heating water. She peeked in the bag, and right on top was some fresh mint from her parents’ plant. She took a few leaves and tossed them into the tea. While she waited for it to boil, she put a K-Cup into her Keurig, shut it with a satisfying snap and waited for her coffee to brew. A little voice in her head reminded her that there was bourbon somewhere here, and that she might want some in her coffee right about now.

“Where is Naya?” her father asked, looking around as if Naya might materialize from thin air.

“Sleeping.” The chai mixture had come to a boil, filling the apartment with the comforting aroma of cardamom, cinnamon and mint. She inhaled the scents of her childhood, allowing herself a brief moment of calm. Her coffee slurped as the mug filled, and she gladly turned her attention back to adding milk to the chai, and creamer to her coffee. Her mother had busied herself with taking out the homemade spicy flatbread she had brought along to have with the tea. She set the small table while Annika finished making the chai and brought the three steaming mugs of hot liquid to the table. Whatever her parents had come over to say, they didn’t seem to be in a great hurry.

The three of them sat down together, and Annika took a much-needed first sip of her coffee and relished the warmth and sweetness of the liquid. She smiled to herself. Daniel had found it rather amusing that she valued coffee even more than food.

“Why are you smiling?”

She flinched again, as if her father could read her thoughts. “Coffee, Papa. You know how I love coffee.”

Her father sipped his chai and broke off a piece of tepla. He chewed and swallowed before turning to her. “Your mother and I have been thinking that you have been teaching for a couple of years, and that is great.” He said great like it wasn’t really. “But now we think you should consider a career in which you can make a proper living.”

“Is this because of what you saw at school the other day?”

“Annika—”

“Because that is part of my job. Dealing with children and their parents. It’s what I’m trained to do. Sometimes we have bad days.”

“That is fine. But you need to make some solid decisions about your future. I’m sure Hopkins will readmit you and—” he paused “—we have spoken with Sajan’s parents, and I think Sajan is still interested.”

“You what?” Annika slammed down her precious elixir, nearly spilling it in her complete surprise. “You talked to Sajan’s parents? What am I? Twenty-one years old, fifty years ago?”