Chapter 13 Cheap Shot #2
I’m really itching for a drink.
Millie
Tamara?!
Vera
Tamamama
Krys
Millie
omg that’s so good. That’s what we should call you from now on.
You’re all the worst. I can’t drink and I don’t approve of Tamamama. But fine, girls’ night.
Krys
Yay!
Millie
Double Yay!
Vera
Yay! Yay! Yay!
“Let me get this straight,” Millie says after downing half her drink. “You’re living together, he’s cooking for you and you’re doing…nothing?”
“Exactly.”
Three sets of judgey eyes blink back at me and I sigh heavily.
The Funnel is an old Chennai bar that’s not as popular as it once used to be.
Which is a benefit, if you ask me. It’s too small, dark and dingy, but it’s always been a perfect place for the four of us to hang out.
When we came back to Chennai—after college, marriages, divorces, heartbreak—this was where we would meet once a week.
We’d drown our sorrows in delicious rum cocktails and make use of their chauffeur services to get home at the end of the night.
Chandran, the owner of the Funnel, became a friend and while he’s moved onto bigger and better ventures, he’s always taken such good care of us.
It’s why we’re at the best table, with a steady stream of food and drink refills.
It’s also why my friends are tipsy. Good thing they all have responsible men to pick them up if I choose to leave them there because of this bullying.
“Why are you doing nothing?” Krys asks, her usually sleek and straight hair an absolute mess from all the tugging and dragging her hands through she’s been doing tonight.
“What am I supposed to do? And hold on, why are we only talking about me?”
Vera shrugs and switches to water, chugging an entire glass before she burps. “We just want to make sure you’re okay, Tam.”
“I’m fine. Obviously I’m pregnant and unhappy I can’t drink, but I’m fine.”
More blinking from them and I want to scream.
I love them. They’re my people. We’ve been connected at the hip since we were in our twenties and they mean the world to me.
When shit happens, we call each other first. It doesn’t matter that Millie and Krys have the most incredible men, they’d still call Vera and me to help bury the body.
But, I don’t want to tell them about my struggles with Patrick.
Only Vera knows the history we share, but even she doesn’t know how much I want this to become more.
I’m still terrified of letting myself go with him.
I’d love to blame the way my relationship with Kabir, but it’s Patrick I’m scared of.
He has the power to love me and break me in the palm of his very strong hands.
“I had to fire a whole team today,” Krys blurts out and then whimpers as she covers her mouth. Our attention swings to her and she nods. “They were costing us so much money and making a mess of the accounts, I had to let them go.”
“Fuck, Krys. I’m sorry,” I say while scooting my chair closer to hers. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and she leans into me.
“They weren’t even apologetic about it. Just puffed out their chests and said they did what needed to be done,” she continues.
Krys, like Vera, owns her luxury skincare company outright.
She’s made a big name for herself and the majority of her clients are wealthier than any of us can comprehend.
Even Vera, who makes tons of money, isn’t as rich as the ones who come to Krys for help.
The only problem is Krys is not boss material.
She’s sweet and kind, she never raises her voice or scolds anybody.
She’s the soft kind of boss all of us wish we had when we were starting out, but that also means they take advantage of her and clearly that’s what happened today.
“This is why I would rather talk about Tamamama and not myself or anything else.”
“That’s a cheap shot,” I grumble and my friends snicker.
“We only want to know why you’re so tightly wound when you’ve got an Indian Viking living in your flat.”
I shoot Millie a glare, but she shimmies her shoulders and ignores my frustration.
I knock back the ginger ale like it’s a glass of whiskey and then tell them everything.
From the first time I met him to falling in love as a teenager to having my heart ripped open and trampled on.
Then to seeing him at Mahabalipuram and fucking in Elias’s house.
By the time I’m done, I’m so tired of being stoic and difficult, I want to cry.
This is not me. I’ve never been a mean girl, like Patrick said. I’m not rude for no reason and I don’t mistreat people. But he’s flipped a switch in me and I don’t know how to turn it back.
“You’re just protecting yourself, T.”
“But at what cost? Am I making this harder on myself or being an asshole unnecessarily?”
Millie shrugs. “Yes. But what’s the alternative?”
“They could talk about why she’s angry and start fucking again.”
I laugh at the simple way Vera laid it out. “I don’t even know how to bring that up anymore. Talking is what got me knocked up.”
“I should talk to Venkat more,” Krys adds and we all laugh. She’s got two adorable kids and a really great husband, but I doubt Krystina wants more kids.
“Okay, here’s my suggestion,” Vera says and leans forward, her elbow barely making contact with the table before it unbalances her.
She laughs and catches herself, then continues, “If you’re not ready to talk, at least soften your edges.
I respect and support your decision to be angry with him and to set boundaries, but it’s clearly bothering you being so mean.
So be yourself. Keep those walls up, but maybe they can be transparent instead of brick?
If he’s going to be there for you and the baby, let him.
Accept the help, Tam. You don’t have to love him or fall back into bed with him. ”
I swallow the ball of emotion trapped in my throat and nod. “Transparent walls,” I repeat and my friends nod.
Hours later, after we’ve gone for a long drive to get fresh air and stuffed our bellies full of greasy food, I drop them off at their respective houses and head back to mine.
I stumble into the flat as exhaustion weighs me down.
If I’m this tired at fourteen weeks, how will I survive at the full term?
Once I’ve locked up, I walk into the kitchen to get some water and spot a stack of things waiting for me.
Baby books with pretentious titles, a wall calendar with the month designed like baby blocks, a box of Crayola sketch pens, and a stuffed elephant.
A piece of paper sits below all of this with a note in neat block letters.
Something tells me you like to colour coordinate your schedule, so I figure we could do it for the baby and important dates related to them.
Wherever you want the calendar, let me know and I’ll put it up tomorrow.
A little kid was selling the elephant on the side of the road, so I bought it.
Don’t worry, I washed it first, but it still might smell weird.
I know this wasn’t part of your plan, but we’re here now. Let’s make it work.
Love,
Trick