Chapter 17 Mom and Dad
Seventeen. Mom and Dad
Patrick, September
It’s the day and I’ve been awake for two hours.
In all honesty, I didn’t get much sleep.
Ever since our night out at Elliot’s Beach, my head’s been heavy.
It’s similar to what my depressive spirals feel like and I’ve been ignoring it.
Obviously. The last thing I need right now is to fall apart the morning of our big appointment.
Even if she knows this is what I live with, I need to trap it deep inside my brain.
Things are starting to get real.
When she said the baby hadn’t moved yet, I was worried and did some more research.
Some say it’ll happen soon, but not instantly.
When it comes to this baby, I’m impatient.
I want to make sure they’re okay, that everything is going according to plan.
I need Tamara to be safe and happy too, even if it means carrying a lot more of this anxious weight.
She spent most of the weekend out of the house doing site visits and client meetings.
I know the basics of what she does for a living and I can’t imagine her clients being the demanding types; the ones that have no regard for weekends.
But I don’t ask too many questions. We’re at peace right now and I would rather not disrupt it.
Once this appointment is over, then I can approach how we’re going to handle things going forward.
I sit up in bed and run through our plan for the day as my alarm rings.
I slap a hand over the digital clock on my bedside table to silence it and push to my feet.
Face washed, hair tied back and feeling a little less dead, I retrieve my phone from where I left it on the kitchen counter.
Sleep is the one thing I crave on a daily basis and I discovered leaving my phone outside my room increased the chances of me going to bed on time.
And judging by the number of notifications, I’m glad I never take it to bed with me.
I smile at Nina’s long string of texts that are just exclamation marks and confused emojis. I slip my earphones in and video call my sister as I start the coffee machine.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Gah, put a shirt on, Patricia!”
I chuckle and hold it up to my smiling face. “Really good to see you too, Ninan.”
She rolls her eyes and waves me off. There’s a seven year age gap between us and ever since she was a kid, I’ve enjoyed picking on her.
Back then she couldn’t fight back and would run to Elias or our parents for protection.
Now she’s a badass badminton player who doesn’t back down from a scuffle.
She started with the name calling when she was a teenager and I picked it up over the years. It’s our way of showing affection.
Elias calls us volatile, I call it love.
“It’s earlier than usual, why are you awake?”
“Fucking jet lag,” she mumbles.
Like me, Nina was in Paris to play badminton for India.
Her last match was brutal and when she lost, I could see the pain in her eyes.
She held herself high and strong as she congratulated her opponent.
When my parents and I caught up with her later, she collapsed in my arms and sobbed.
As her big brother, all I wanted to do was get her a fucking medal.
After her tournament finished, she and a bunch of friends went on a European holiday to relax. And if my math is right, she only got back two days ago.
“Wanna tell me what your texts were about?”
“I think you have something you need to tell me.”
I pretend to look confused as I fix my coffee. But her inquisitive expression turns murderous, so I clear my throat. “Who told you I have things to say?”
“Couldn’t reach you, called Nihal. He said you were in Chennai. Called E, who mumbled the whole time and then I tried you a couple of times yesterday. What’s going on?”
I should have told Nina as soon as I got to Chennai. But it’s been a whirlwind of chaos since I arrived and it slipped my mind. There’s no point making excuses, so I simply say, “I’m going to be a dad.”
Nina freezes, or the video does, but my sister doesn’t move. Not even a blink and every strand of her black and blue hair is still the way it was seconds ago. I peer into the screen and hope I didn’t lose the connection when she gasps and makes another sound that’s way too loud for earphones.
I wince and rip an earphone out. “Jesus, Ninan. Don’t wake the fucking dogs up.”
“What the fuck, Pat!”
I can’t hide my smile as I lift the mug to my lips and take a sip. Her eyes widen and she gasps again.
“Oh my god, you knocked Tamara up? I thought she hated your guts!”
“How…what?”
“The mug. Profanities and being a fucking lady. She’s one of a kind.”
I turn the mug around and read the words—I don’t spew profanities. I enunciate them clearly, like a fucking lady. “She really is,” I agree with a grin and take another sip.
“But seriously, how did you manage to get the one person that hates you pregnant?”
“I know as a lesbian you’re not fully informed on how men and women do it. But when a man sticks his pen—”
She hangs up and I laugh. When the phone buzzes again and I answer, Nina’s giving me her best death glare. It was adorable when she was a kid, now it’s quite terrifying.
“Are you in love with her?”
The question catches me off guard. I shake my head. “I was, a really long time ago. She was my whole fucking world, Neens. I thought she was it. Then life got in the way and it took us twenty years to cross paths and I knocked her up.”
“Does she still hate you?”
“Maybe a little.”
“And you still don’t know why.” I sigh, but a smile tugs at my lips. “Don’t smile, Pat. This is the girl you once loved and could hurt you.”
“Seems fair since I hurt her already. Revenge doesn’t have to be dramatic.”
Nina’s expression is still full of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry, kid. We have a doctor’s appointment today and if everything looks good, I was planning to tell everyone.”
She pouts and I mirror it. “How far along is she?”
“Sixteen weeks, if my math is right.”
“I hope the kid looks like her.”
I chuckle. “I would give anything for the kid to look like her.”
“Oh, Patricia,” my sister sighs and I wince. My heart is so heavy on my non-existent sleeve and I don’t know how to hide it. “Be careful, okay? She might be the one, but you have to protect yourself.”
“I know, Neens.” The sound of Tamara’s loud and musical alarm echoes through the flat. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Love you, Pat.”
“Love you too, kid.”
I hang up to pour myself another cup of coffee and make Tamara’s tea.
As I set her mug on the centre island, frustrated stomps head towards me.
She stumbles into the kitchen looking angry as always.
Her curly hair is wild and her face is screwed up, but she’s still so endearing.
Her hands wrap around the mug and she takes a sip, ignoring how freaking hot it is, and releases a breathy moan that makes my cock jump.
Then she opens her eyes and I watch her gorgeous cocoa gaze widen further as her attention lands on my bare chest.
“I stole one shirt, why aren’t you wearing another one?” she grumbles.
She’s stolen half my wardrobe at this point. “It’s too hot to wear too many layers.”
“My doctor will not take kindly to you showing up in your pyjamas.”
“I’ll get dressed for her.”
“Why not for me, then?”
“Because I know how much you like looking at me, Lotus.”
With a huff, she carries her tea to the front door, walks to the couch with the newspapers, then sits down and pretends to ignore me for the next hour. A few weeks of seeing her do this every day and it’s all I want. Forever.
“I can’t believe you chose that for our first big appointment,” Tamara says, scoffing at my clothes.
I smirk and lean back in my chair, watching her even though she’s refusing to look at me.
After our respective morning beverages, I whipped up a light breakfast of ham and cheese sandwiches.
We ate in silence; Tamara was still not in the mood to deal with me.
We left early to beat the morning rush hour and get to the clinic on time.
The wrinkle on her forehead is partly why I’m wearing this T-shirt—plain black with DAD written across in the chest in large white text. I hoped it would annoy and amuse her.
Unfortunately it’s done only more of the former and none of the latter.
“I bought you one that says MOM.”
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s green though. Bet you’d still look good in it,” I continue like she didn’t shoot me down.
“Trick,” she sighs exasperatedly, her expression flat. “You knocked me up. You don’t have to keep flirting.”
“You accepted my terms. And it’s the only way I know how to live, Lotus.”
She mumbles under her breath, hand floating over her stomach, almost like she’s talking to our kid. Every time she does that—apologises to the baby for their dad—I know we’re going to be fucking good at this.
“Mr. and Mrs. Joseph?” a nurse calls out and I’m on my feet instantly. “Dr. Gopalan will see you now.”
Tamara huffs and takes the hand I hold out to her. “I gave them your full name, I swear.”
“Dumb traditional Indian brains,” she curses and we follow the nurse down the hall to a door marked with the doctor’s name.
As I step inside my heart trips. It’s been almost a month since I found out I’m going to be a dad and I’ve gone through every emotion imaginable.
I still haven’t fully wrapped my head around our new reality.
My heart is racing and my fingers tingle.
It’s what happens when a panic attack starts, but before I can collapse under the weight of this moment, Tamara squeezes my hand.
I exhale loudly and smile at the doctor.
“You didn’t tell me the father was an Olympian,” she says. “Congratulations, Mr. Joseph.”
“Thanks, Dr. Gopalan. She’s not big on talking about me in general, so don’t hold it against her.”
Tamara growls. “I will kick you out if you don’t behave.”
I grin and she releases my hand. Her back is straight and her eyes are clear, but her left leg is bouncing furiously.
That’s how I know she’s not as calm as I thought she was.
I gently grip her knee and it settles, but she’s still tightly wound.
Her eyes meet mine and she nods, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
I pull my hand away and lean back in my chair.
“What are we doing today?” I ask and do my best to keep the nerves out of my voice.
“We need to run a few blood tests. This is standard for your second trimester,” Dr. Gopalan explains.
“We do what’s called an AFP screening which checks for certain things like whether or not your child has Down syndrome or other chromosomal abnormalities.
And to make sure there’s only one foetus among other things. ”
I’m pretty sure I stop breathing and I can feel my eyes widen at the possibility we’re having twins.
Dr. Gopalan waves her hand, almost as if to pacify us as she continues.
“These are normal tests, it doesn’t necessarily mean any of these will come back positive.
But it’s a chance for you to be prepared ahead of time, that’s all. ”
Tamara’s hand reaches for mine and I immediately link our fingers. No matter what those results say, we’ll love our kid—or kids—unconditionally. There’s a moment of fear that we’re not equipped for this.
“We’ll also do an ultrasound to take a look at your baby,” the doctor continues and when neither of us respond, she smiles.
“If I didn’t see this kind of reaction in all first time parents, I’d be a little worried.
Don’t start thinking of the worst case scenario, you and your baby could be absolutely healthy. ”
Tamara squeezes my hand and when I look over, she’s got tears in her eyes.
I turn in my chair so I’m facing her. “Come here, Lotus.” I tug on her hand and she doesn’t fight me as she climbs into my lap, arms winding around my neck.
I hold her tight as the doctor and nurse talk around us.
“She’s making sure you and the baby are okay. ”
She nods, sniffling loudly and I squeeze her waist, my hand smoothing over her stomach.
As a fat woman, Tamara’s belly has always been soft, and it excites me to know our baby is in there somewhere.
Ready to make an appearance. I appreciate her trusting me right now, that she’s allowing me to see her vulnerable and scared.
I want her to know I’ll always be there for her.
No matter how good or bad the situation, she’s got me for as long as she wants me.
“I’m okay,” she says to me and I nod at the nurse.
She rolls up Tamara’s sleeve and draws blood. I know for a fact my girl’s not scared of needles, but she still rests her head against mine. I brush her hair back, our eyes meeting briefly. And fuck, Nina was right to be worried about me. I’m already halfway in love with her again.
“You’re incredible,” I say softly and an unexpected blush coats her cheeks.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” she replies, her eyes confirming the sincerity of her words.
I squeeze her hip when the nurse says she’s done. I help Tamara to her feet as Dr. Gopalan smiles at us and says, “Are you ready for the ultrasound?”
We’re directed to another section of the room where Tamara’s asked to unbutton her jeans and lift up her shirt.
She lies down on the bed and gives me a glimpse at her warm brown skin.
I reach for her hand and she presses her fingers into mine.
The doctor’s telling us what she’s doing as she squirts something on Tamara’s belly, then moves a wand around.
I’m not listening, because on the screen is a picture.
It’s unclear at first, then I see our baby and my breath catches. This is real. I blink furiously to fight back the tears, but it’s pointless. I’m hovering between absolute joy and an emotional meltdown.
“Trick?”
“It’s our baby,” I whisper and she laughs. The sound is so beautiful, I don’t think before I’m pressing my lips to hers. It’s a brief touch, but she doesn’t push me away and that’s enough.
“Everything looks good and your baby is doing exactly what they should be doing. Would you like to hear the heartbeat?”
“Yes, please,” I force out through the emotions clogging my throat and the doctor smiles.
She taps a few buttons and a steady beat echoes in the room. My knees almost give out and I grab the edge of the bed as I close my eyes. The sound is music to my ears and I smile as tears slide down my cheeks. I shake my head, unable to process that this is real.
“Congratulations, Mom and Dad.”