Chapter 36 Sacrifice
Thirty-Six. Sacrifice
Patrick
The joy on my therapist’s face is one I’ve never seen before.
I know why he’s happy—I finally showed up for an in-person session.
After years of doing them over video and the odd phone call, being here to look him in the eyes is an experience I didn’t realise I missed.
We talked about this soon after I moved to Chennai, but I never actually imagined I would find the time.
Between all the work happening at the school, training with the Thunder and being available for Tamara, my schedule is a little tight.
We’ve done sessions, obviously, but they’ve been short and usually while I’m on the move or somewhere other than the flat.
Now I’m here, sitting on his incredibly uncomfortable couch. I shift and grunt when it becomes a bit of a process to relax. Dominic’s smile fades and he tilts his head as I adjust myself.
“You done?”
“Do people actually enjoy sitting on this?”
“It’s not meant to be comfortable.” I arch an eyebrow and he adds, “It’s a tactic to make people talk when they’re not able to sit still.”
I chuckle and force myself to settle, then stretch my legs out.
Like I’m totally fine, when the truth is it itches under my skin.
My mood is the same before every session—sombre—but today there’s something else poking at my nerves.
I know it’s the oncoming meltdown and I want to catch it before it spirals.
At the same time, I don’t want to ignore the way it really makes me feel.
I might have been avoiding letting Tamara see me this way, but I know she needs to know.
She needs to understand how I completely shatter when I push myself too far.
“I’m honoured you took the time and effort to see me,” Dominic starts and I roll my eyes.
“I didn’t want to hear you whine about it again.”
He laughs and matches my posture, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. “So, what are we talking about today?”
“How to be comfortable letting her see me at my weakest.”
“What makes you uncomfortable about it?”
Looking away, I shrug. There are ways to express myself and Dominic won’t judge, but I don’t want to throw myself into the deep end yet. I want to figure this out without admitting all my fears.
“Is it that she might not love you? Or be terrified of who you are?”
“Yes. And she’ll worry our kid will have this affliction too.”
Dominic scribbling in his notebook is the only sound in the room. Then he says, “Why do you call it an affliction?”
“That’s what it is, right? I didn’t choose this and it makes me fucking unhappy and unpleasant all the time.”
“It’s a condition, Patrick. Your depression isn’t a disease. Sure, it’s not something we can get rid of, but we can regulate it. Haven’t we been doing that?”
I sigh, staring at my hands. I pick at the rough skin on my palms, remembering how Tamara talked about my calluses the other night. She loves that my hands aren’t soft and perfect. And it turns her on every time I touch her.
“Can the kid get it?”
“There’s no science behind it being genetic or hereditary. But let me ask you this,” he sets his entire focus on me, “do either of your parents have depression? A grandparent? A relative?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Their generation doesn’t talk about shit like this. I think my parents were surprised when I first brought up my diagnosis, they didn’t know what to do or how to help me.”
“And you’re worried if your kid gets it … what’ll happen?”
“I think it might worry Tamara.”
“Why?”
“It’s fucking debilitating, Dom,” I snap and he nods, but doesn’t say anything. I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face and then add, “I talked to her about it the other day and it was good. It was helpful to put the feelings into words, to make her see what it’s like for me.”
“Understandable. How did she respond to your conversation?”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “She said she’d support me no matter what, help me in whatever way she could. That’s just who she is.”
“And you don’t trust it?”
“I do. I know she’ll drop everything to help me, to make sure I’m okay and happy. But I don’t want her to sacrifice anything for me.”
“Patrick, I’m going to say something that might make you angry.
So I want you to take a deep breath and hold it until I’m done.
” We did this exercise a while ago, back when we discovered hockey might be the reason I’m not okay and it helped.
By the time I caught my breath, I’d forgotten why I was annoyed.
I roll my eyes and suck in a deep breath.
Dominic nods and says, “The basis of every good relationship is sacrifice and compromise. It’s love and compassion, but it’s dealing with the hard shit in the right way.
It’s about being there for each other when things are good and bad.
And the key to making it work long term is never hiding anything from each other. ”
My lungs burn and at his nod, I exhale loudly.
My chest hurts at the lack of air and what he said to me.
But we both know he’s right. This is exactly what I’ve been afraid of for so long.
That letting someone into my life means all of these things.
Maybe part of why I’ve never been in long term relationships is the minute someone commits to me, they’re committing to my depression.
They have to live with and love the dark parts of me too.
“Sacrifice and compromise. Okay,” I say softly and he watches me for a long moment.
“I don’t want you to hide these parts of yourself. I already hate that you wait until your body forces the crash, but you have to let her see one and let her decide how she feels.”
“I’ve gotten really good at suppressing. I don’t know how to let go.”
He chuckles and makes another note. “Trust me, I know how little you can let go.”
“You know what? Fuck you.”
He laughs louder and sets his notebook aside. “Next time, instead of calling me, let go. Trust in the way your brain and body will handle this.”
“Sacrifice,” I repeat and Dominic nods. “Okay, fine.”
“Speaking of which, did you make a decision about hockey?”
I nod, recalling my conversation with Tamara. It was clear by the end of the day the only way to still love the sport and have a semi-normal life was to walk away. “Retirement. I’ll finish out the next season with the national team, then step down.”
“What about Nihal?”
“No commitment yet.”
“Would you resent him if he stayed on?”
I frown and shake my head. “Fuck no. I think I’d be really happy for him if he kept going. Hockey is all we’ve known for so many years, I don’t want to be the reason he gives it up.”
Dominic watches me for a moment and nods. “You told Tamara?”
“Yeah. Like my depression, she’s really supportive of whatever I want to do. I know she’s not saying it to make me happy and will show up no matter what I do.”
“So you trust her with this, but not with everything else?”
I sneer at him and he grins. The asshole. “This is why I prefer video calls.”
With a laugh, he switches topics and we go through the rest of my homework from last week and he sends me off.
Standing outside the Bold Lines office, I lean against my bike and watch the entrance.
At our last appointment, Dr. Gopalan gave us information for antenatal classes.
Apparently it’s something all new parents do to get a handle on what it’ll be like once the baby is born.
I did my research on what happens in these classes and discovered it’s actually quite helpful.
There’s a lot we need to know—techniques and information that will be really useful.
Tamara insisted she knows how to hold and feed a baby.
I know nothing, so she’s generously attending these classes with me.
The door slides open and a bunch of people step out.
I tuck my sunglasses into the front of my shirt and straighten up as Tamara walks out from behind the group.
She’s in light blue baggy jeans and a large printed shirt.
Her hair’s piled on top of her head, sunglasses sliding down her perfect nose.
She’s scowling at her phone, unaware I’m watching her, as her thumbs move over the screen.
When my phone pings a few times and then rings, she looks up and spots me.
Her expression changes instantly and I laugh.
Speed-waddling, she comes over and loops her arms around my waist. Her face presses into my chest, I kiss the top of her head and inhale the scent of her.
Even after a full day of work, she looks, smells and feels like heaven.
She tilts her head back and puckers her lips.
I oblige by pressing my mouth to hers and a soft giggle escapes her lips.
“Did you have a good day, Lo?”
“I did! Started drawing up final plans for Julia Christopher today,” she says with a wide smile.
After everything she went through to meet the famous baker, I’m glad she was selected to build and design Julia Christopher’s new space.
In a way, I’m grateful to Ms. Christopher.
She’s the reason Tamara and I have found our way back to each other.
The reason why I can kiss and hold her. And remind her she’s my whole fucking world.
We step out of the hug and I hand her the helmet which she tugs over her head without complaint or struggle.
In the last few months, she’s gotten good at being prepared for a ride.
As I tie the bandana and adjust my helmet, she swings one leg over the side and straddles the motorcycle.
I follow minutes later, waiting until her hands grip the sides of my shirt before I start driving.
It takes us fifteen minutes to reach the centre and as I find a place to park my bike, Tamara goes inside to sign us in.
I join her a few minutes later and smile at the lady she’s speaking to.
The entry way is deceiving, the chatter and sheer number of people are blocked behind a door.
But once we’re through that, it gets really loud and chaotic.
There are tons of families walking in and out of rooms, soft music pumping through speakers battling for volume control and of course people calling out names of patients.
It’s a lot. I’m not one to be triggered by sounds or large crowds, I play in stadiums full of screaming fans for a living.
But today is different.
The itchiness under my skin during therapy returns and I clench my fists to keep the sensation at bay.
My body knows what’s coming and so does my brain, but I refuse to collapse right now.
This isn’t a crucial part of our pregnancy, but it’s still one that will make a huge difference for us once the baby arrives.
“Hi Patrick,” the lady says, shaking my hand. “I’m Laxmi, welcome to your first ever antenatal class. You look overwhelmed.”
I laugh nervously. “I’m actually fascinated by the number of people here,” I say, honesty in every word even if I’m hiding behind the statement.
She looks over her shoulder. “You’ll be surprised by how many new parents need the help and guidance. Are you two ready to get started?”
I follow her and Tamara to an office tucked into the side of the main room. She pulls out chairs for us and then slips into another one behind a small desk. She turns an iPad towards us and smiles. Tamara’s hand finds mine and I squeeze.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. This is probably the easiest and most fun part of your pregnancy.
What we do in these classes is understand your birth plan, teach you about all the things your body goes through for the next few months and prepare you for your big day,” Laxmi explains, swiping through various slides.
“We don’t have a birth plan,” Tamara says with a frown.
“That’s okay. We can help you put one together. I’ve worked with Dr. Gopalan’s patients before and we’ll find one that works for you.”
My head bobs in a nod, but I’m in the usual out-of-body phase.
Sounds muffle and when I try to blink, my eyes are too dry and unable to do their job.
I turn to Tamara and her mouth is moving, but I can’t hear a damn thing.
My chest is caving in and I finally close my eyes.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I give myself a few minutes and when I feel another squeeze around my hand, I exhale loudly.
Slowly, my eyes open and Laxmi’s gone. But Tamara’s watching me worriedly.
“Patrick?”
Fuck. “Sorry, Lo.”
“Are you okay, honey?”
I nod, but I don’t know if my head moves properly. Her knuckles brush over my cheek and she smiles when our gazes meet.
“Laxmi gave me some papers to fill out and a link with all the information. Why don’t we go home?”
“I’m fine. We can stay.”
She shakes her head, smile steady but her eyes give her away. “I don’t want to stay.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Trick. You good to drive?”
Nodding, I stand when she does. With our hands still linked, we walk out to where my motorcycle is tucked in the shaded area. We don’t speak as we put our layers back on, then once we’re both straddling the bike, I drive us home.