Chapter Fourteen #3
She is home eating dinner out of a bento box and watching the news when an item about Rodrigo comes on.
The newscaster informs viewers that Rodrigo has refused to lodge a police complaint against Haneul for assaulting him.
They then cut to visuals of him walking out of an unnamed hospital.
He stops in front of the dozen or so cameras and bows low, as though offering an apology.
The voice-over guesses the apology is either towards his fans for his recent misdemeanour or towards Haneul for what happened in the past. Close-ups of Rodrigo’s face show that his nose has needed several stitches and lacerations across his face are dressed in antiseptic and bandages.
His denim cutoffs reveal a bandaged knee, an injury the news channel suspects him to have sustained when he fell over furniture, and he is walking with a slight limp.
Timira loses her appetite almost immediately. Putting her dinner aside, she reaches for her phone and dials a number she had once upon a time memorized. Timira has taken Rodrigo and herself by surprise by calling him.
‘Timmy, is it really you?’ Rodrigo asks incredulously upon receiving her call.
Timira racks her brain for the perfect line to stay but she is too nervous to think straight.
Why did I have to call him? Shall I just hang up? Oh, god! Nahin, nahin, sochega I’m such a weirdo!
‘Hi, Rod. Um, yeah, it’s me.’
‘My clumsy clown! Sooooo good to hear your voice!’
Timira keeps quiet.
Why does he sound genuinely happy?
He is genuinely happy. He had had to wade through throngs of photographers and reporters in order to get home.
A couple of journalists had even managed to reach his floor and ring his doorbell.
He’d have to miss at least two weeks of training and will most likely be unable to accompany the team to their upcoming away fixture.
He has sulked all day and Timira’s call is like balm for his battered soul.
‘What’s up, T?’
‘Are you okay? Are you in a lot of pain?’
Rodrigo is taken aback by the concern in her voice.
Is she really concerned about me?
Touched, he answers cheerfully.
‘Nah, you know I am made of adamantium. Nothing can break Wolverine. I’m good, don’t you worry. Solid and durable!’ He tries to sound as chirpy as he possibly can.
Timira isn’t convinced. The visuals of his bruised face and body painted a very different story. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she quickly changes the topic.
‘Have you had dinner?’
Rodrigo is about to say that he has, even though he hasn’t, but then he smells an opportunity.
‘I haven’t yet. Was about to make myself some ramen …’
Ramen? He must be on pain medicines. Why is he having ramen? He hates ramen!
Instant ramen is not food. It’s just manufactured garbage meant to fill you up for cheap, make you feel full when all it’s literally doing is retaining water and making you look puffy.
I’m a chiselled work of art. I cannot walk around with a bloated belly!
Rodrigo’s dislike of ramen was legendary, Timira remembers with a smile.
‘Are reporters still camped outside your place?’
‘I don’t think so. Hang on, let me check.’
Rodrigo walks towards the window and gingerly lifts the curtains to look outside.
‘The coast looks clear, captain!’ he gleefully informs Timira.
‘Text me your address. I’ll bring some food over to you.’
Abbe yaar, I could’ve just had it delivered, I don’t know why I have to step out this late in the evening and run an unnecessary errand.
If only Alice hadn’t shown me alllllll those ten thousand dramas where reporters dress up as delivery personnel and sneak into celebrities’ homes!
Given how drama-like my life has become since I’ve come here, I wouldn’t be surprised if this were to be true, too!
‘You’ve learnt how to drive?’ Rodrigo sounds surprised.
‘Cabs. Drivers. Ever heard of them?’
Timira abhors the idea of driving. It was one of the first things about her she had shared with Rodrigo on their very first date.
Rodrigo had driven them around Colaba and the Queen’s Necklace while it rained and Timira rolled the window down and shoved her face out of the window every now and again to feel the raindrops on her face and giggle.
Rodrigo smiles fondly upon recalling Timira’s smile from that day. ‘Why don’t we go out and grab a bite?’
‘You wish to be seen out and about? In public? Isn’t that exactly what you have been trying to escape from?’
Is this idiot ever going to grow up? Paagal hai kya?
‘We can go somewhere inconspicuous—’ Rodrigo suggests.
‘Aren’t you injured? I saw on TV, you were limping,’ Timira cuts him off mid-sentence.
‘I can manage a few steps even with this limp. Don’t forget, ma’am, I’m made of steel. And hey! You can help me in and out of the car, can you not?’
Timira gulps and keeps mum.
‘Oh, c’mon. Would that be a problem? Will Baek Haneul mind? Are you no longer allowed to have a life of your own?’
What’s wrong with this guy? I called to offer him some comfort, and he’s only trying to rile me up! I refuse to bite the bait, NOPE!
‘I’ll see you in about thirty. Bye!’
Timira hangs up without waiting for Rodrigo to respond.
What have I brought upon myself? Why did I have to do this? Is this even the right thing to do? Perhaps I ought to have checked with Bhaskar or Alice. Haneul is not going to like this. Uff, main bhi kya paagal hoon! Why does my brain have a mind of its own, argh?!
It’s close to 9 p.m. when Timira finds herself outside the very posh Hannam The Hill, where Rodrigo lives on the twelfth floor in a plush penthouse apartment.
Isn’t this where BTS used to live? Timira had wondered when she read the address that Rodrigo had texted her . Alice would kill to be here!
‘Come on out. I’m outside your building,’ Timira texts him upon reaching.
Wearing an oversized sweatshirt and an even bigger smile, Rodrigo limps out of the door to his apartment block. His injured knee is hidden underneath baggy sweatpants.
‘Hi, Timmy the clown!’ He playfully ruffles Timira’s hair, unwashed and hastily held together in a bun on top of her head. Sprigs of hair are springing out like cat whiskers. Rodrigo smiles adoringly as he pats her head, while Timira grabs his wrist and lifts his hand off of her head.
‘Rod, don’t. Please don’t act like I am your favourite person!’
‘But, you are, T!’
Yeah, that’s why you cheated on me and broke my heart, you ass!
Timira rolls her eyes silently.
‘Let’s go. The cab’s waiting.’
Rodrigo pulls the hood of his sweatshirt on and wears it on top of his baseball hat. He also pulls up his turtleneck to cover most of his face up till his bandaged nose.
Timira is observing him keenly.
I don’t think anyone’s going to believe me if I tell them what’s happening. None of this feels real. Truth really is stranger than fiction!
‘ Gisanim, Jongnoro gajuseyo [Driver sir, please take us to Jongno]!’ Rodrigo instructs the taxi driver in fluent Korean as soon as he is seated inside.
Jongno is about seven kilometres from Hannam, but at this time of the night, there’s very little traffic. It takes them under twenty minutes to reach. As they approach a group of pojangmacha , little tents serving street food and alcohol, he asks the driver to pull up.
‘Hang on, let me come over and help you out,’ Timira is feeling responsible but sans any emotion.
The dry, chilly breeze that Seoul is infamous for gives them an icy welcome as they step out of the warm confines of the cab.
‘ Gisanim , please give us about an hour. Feel free to grab a snack while you wait. Here, keep this, please.’ Timira thrusts 50,000 won into her rental driver’s hand, who refuses promptly. Oh, crap. I forgot this isn’t India. There’s no practice of tipping here !
‘Ahjussi, miyanhaeyo. But, please accept this. Or, I’m dragging you to eat with us. It’s either this or our company!’
The elderly driver is as impressed by Timira’s attempt to speak in broken Korean as by her honest threat.
She reminds him of her niece working in Thailand whom he misses terribly and now finds himself unable to say no to her.
Victorious Timira tells him to eat something tasty and waves at him sunnily before turning towards her dinner companion.
‘All right, Rod. I’m not sure you could’ve picked a place more public that this!’ she says sarcastically.
Rodrigo smiles. ‘Relax, Tim. Nobody will notice!’
He limps towards one of the tens of similar-looking tents huddled together.
‘Care to help me walk? I’m injured, remember?’ he turns around and says to Timira who has not moved an inch and seems to be lost in thought.
She hastens towards Rodrigo and holds his arm. ‘I’m sorry. Let’s go!’
Unbeknownst to them, a black car with tinted windows pulls up just behind their cab. Then a bike, then another bike. Followed by yet another car. Windows are rolled down, helmets taken off, lens covers removed and images zoomed into. Calls are made and news is passed around.
Rodrigo has been spotted in public. With a woman.
Rodrigo and Timira are waiting outside a tent for the owner to clear a table for them to sit. He is leaning against her while she stands with her arms folded across her chest. The weight of his body is too much for Timira’s shoulder to bear.
‘ Imonim , is the table ready?’ she asks the owner impatiently. She has learnt from Korean dramas to refer to pojangmacha owners as ‘aunty’.
‘Rod, do you mind?’ She gestures with her hand for him to get off her shoulder. ‘You are too heavy.’
‘I’m so sorry! Oh, poor you.’
Rodrigo grips the part of her shoulder he had been resting against and attempts to massage it.
Haneul and Mr Choi, sweaty and tired after hitting their way around the batting cage, have decided to grab some street food and soju.
Standing at the crosswalk, they are waiting for the light to turn green when they spot two familiar faces across the road. On recognizing them, Haneul freezes and his heart feels like it’s about to explode.