Chapter 21 Go with Me
Twenty-One. Go with me
Patrick
Nina
What do you two think about me moving to Chennai?
Elias
Permanently? Why?
Nina
IDK. My big brothers are there, I have a nephew or niece on the way.
Are they called niblings?
Elias
I have never heard that word before, but if that’s what it is, then sure.
Nina
Anyway, yeah. Bangalore is…fine.
Elias
I thought you were having the time of your life with the cousins and that girl you were dating?
Nina
We weren’t “dating”. We were fucking.
And she moved onto greener pastures.
Elias
Greener than you? She’s got terrible taste.
Nina
Aw, thanks, E.
I’m glad you’re the one that responded and not the tree.
She does have terrible taste. And come to Chennai, it’s better here anyway.
Nina
Never thought I’d see the day when you picked Chennai over Bangalore. What happened to your loyalty?
The mother of my child calls this place home is what happened.
Elias
Are you two still fighting?
I call it foreplay.
Nina
Patricia. Be serious for a minute.
Yes, we’re still fighting. Yes, she still hates my guts. And yes, the only reason she’s putting up with me is because I knocked her up.
Elias
Ah, shit. I’m sorry, Pat. Your room is still available at the house.
Nina
Might not be the worst idea.
I was thinking about that yesterday and might take you up on the offer.
Elias
Mi casa es su casa
And if Ninan moves over, it can be like the good old days.
Nina
I am not living with the two of you.
Elias
You’ll have your own bathroom this time!
Nina
That was never the problem. Ugh. Anyway, nothing is decided, just wanted to run it by you two.
And when I make up my mind, you’ll be the first to know.
All jokes aside, Neens. It would be great to have you in the same city.
Elias
What he said.
Nina
Aw, I love you guys!
Things have been…the same. Sort of. We run into each other at random points in the day, but for the most part, I don’t see Tamara.
I continue to make her food and now she cleans up after herself.
The dishwasher is always loaded before I go to bed and she doesn’t leave her shit lying around.
I’m pretty sure even her hair is no longer floating around the flat anymore.
It’s weird to say it’s a nice change, but anything is better than the tundra we’ve been living in.
Which is hilarious because there’s nothing cold about Chennai.
The heat’s been stifling and all of my research has said pregnant women can feel hotter and more uncomfortable during the summer months.
So I stocked up on ice packs and left a note so she’d know to use them on days when it’s unbearable.
This is the rising heat just before winter sets in—I use the word lightly, because it never really gets that cold.
And if I’m bothered by the temperature, I can’t even begin to imagine what Tamara’s going through.
Fuck, I miss her.
I finally crumbled and told Dominic about what’s going on. He was partly disappointed, but mostly concerned I wasn’t taking care of myself.
“You do this, Pat. You spend so much time worrying about them, you don’t think about you. So what are you doing for yourself?”
“Cooking, sleeping, working. What more should I be doing?”
“Other things, buddy. Make friends, hang out with your brother, sight-see. Come visit me.”
“If I visit, will you promise not to psychoanalyse me?”
“Can’t do that, sorry. What about the rest of it?”
“Maybe.”
Dom sighs and scratches his beard. For as long as I’ve known him, Dominic’s has been sporting a distinguished salt and pepper look. It doesn’t make him look older, but I did tell him he’s a handsome guy. Probably the first and last time I saw my therapist blush.
“All right, you’ve got choices, Pat. You can keep doing things the way you have so far. Or burst through those walls and clear the air.”
“What if I scare her off permanently?”
“You might not. Maybe this is the push both of you need. You’re the kind of guy to give someone their space and wait for them to be ready to talk. That might not always be the solution.”
I drag a hand through my hair, already imagining how angry Tamara will be if I try to fix this without her permission. Making her hate me more is not the idea here, but Dom’s also right. The waiting is killing me.
“Is there a less violent way than bursting through walls?”
He laughs and nods. “Ask her if the two of you can talk. Keep it casual, don’t push if she says no. You’re a fixer, but this is not something you can force. But approach it gently.”
Breathing noisily through my nose, I finish out the session and have him tease me about still not doing therapy in-person. Then I spend a few minutes thinking of the best way to approach having a conversation with Tamara.
Here’s the thing—there’s nothing casual about my feelings for her, there never has been.
When we were kids, she was the best part of my year.
Being apart from her was really fucking difficult.
Could we have exchanged phone numbers or email addresses once we got them?
Possibly. But it felt like such a pipe dream.
Back then, we never really thought about it.
I counted down the days until summer break and I was shipped off to Bangalore for a month and a half to play hockey and be with the girl I loved.
Now things are different. Twenty years changes people.
We’ve been in relationships, we’ve built lives for ourselves and childhood loves are just that—something from our childhood.
But I refuse to believe it’s all we are to each other.
I know under all the tension and frustration she feels for me, Tamara remembers those summers together.
Conversations about the type of dog we are and my fear of octopuses aren’t things we discussed every single day.
It was once and then never again. But she remembers.
She knows my heart was hers once upon a time.
I want to believe her reason for pushing me away is less about me and more about her douchebag ex.
Her Instagram doesn’t have a single picture of this guy, so I can’t even hunt him down.
I know his name starts with K, but that’s it.
And believe me, I’ve gone through every drawer and cupboard in the apartment in the hopes of finding something about this man.
Whatever he did to her is clearly part of why she doesn’t trust me.
And until I pull my big boy pants on, there’s nothing I can do about it.
I blow my whistle to get the team’s attention. I’m in a mood and it’s reflected in their playing. The Tamil Nadu Thunder gathers in front of me, some of them bent over at the waist, hands on knees as they breathe heavily.
“Can anyone tell me what’s going on wrong out there today?”
Visser, a Dutchman and the captain, glares at me then his team before he says, “We’re not listening to each other.”
“And why aren’t we?” Nobody has a response and I sigh. “I apologise if I’ve rubbed my bad mood off onto all of you, but don’t let me bring you down. I understand needing to respect your coaches, but if someone is upsetting the balance, you have to tell them.”
“You’re fucking with our heads, Coach,” Visser says, the corner of his lips twitching as he fights back a smile.
“Good to know. How can I stop doing that?”
“Maybe let us run the plays you’ve shown us instead of constantly getting involved?”
I nod at Yadav, our goalie. He’s not wrong.
“Trust that we know how to play.”
This is from one of the few Irishmen on the team. I smile and nod at him as well.
“You should take a break, Coach.”
“Now that sounds like a damn good idea.”
They laugh and I shove my hands into the pockets of my shorts.
I nod for my assistant coach to take over and step off the turf.
There’s a tightness in my shoulders I’ve been ignoring and it’s reflecting badly in my daily life.
Last night I broke down and cried in the shower, so there’s a sense of relief.
But it didn’t chase away the rest of the anxiety building in my head.
At first I thought it was related to Tamara, but realised quickly it’s not.
It’s something else, an unknown element that’s made itself very comfortable in my head.
Leaning against the side of the main building, I watch as the team falls into formation and runs one of the many plays we’ve designed.
The management put together an incredible group of players.
Like the ICL, players from different field hockey playing countries are part of the League of Hockey Tournament.
The Thunder is made up of a few Dutchmen, three Irishmen, a group of Australians, one Englishman and a whole slew of Indians.
Since the Thunder is new, none of the boys from the national team made it.
But that’s okay. I know how they play and I can use that knowledge to teach this team new tricks.
If only my head wasn’t feeling so imbalanced.
With the team in the capable hands of my assistant coach, I head to the office they set up for us and load up game tape from the first few seasons of the LHT.
The only upside to this is for five years, there was no tournament and a lot of the teams from then are now defunct.
But it’s good to learn what worked for them so I can use that to coach my guys.
Another thing weighing me down is retirement.
For so long I kept putting it aside to focus on the next championship, the next medal and trophy.
But it’s clear I can’t keep doing that. I’ll be forty soon and there’s absolutely no way they’ll let me keep playing.
There might have been a time when the national team had older players, but in the last ten years I’ve said goodbye to so many men I considered friends.
In my sessions, Dom and I only talk about how I feel with the coaching job.
Every time he brings up retirement, I shut it down.
It’s bad enough the sport sometimes triggers the panic spiral, I don’t want to spend too much time talking about it as well.
I thought coaching and being around everyone would be difficult.
But the truth is, it’s actually brought a weird sense of comfort for me.
I get to be around the familiar smells, touch the turf every single day and call out plays.
It’s everything else. The impending doom of my career, as it were.
When I start to get cross-eyed, I return to the field and drag the coaches in for a fun scrimmage.
The endorphins and adrenaline keeps my head from spinning, and it also adds a little excitement for the team.
We’ve got a few more months of training before the tournament starts and I don’t want these guys to think of it as just a job.
Yes, they’re getting paid to play far away from home, but it’s a fun tournament with a trophy and medal at the end. And I like to remind them of that.
It’s closing in on nine when I finally get home.
I’m sweaty and sticky, but I feel good. The weight in my head is gone and my shoulders aren’t pressed up against my ears.
And I’ve been smiling a lot. The one hour ride from the training centre to the flat definitely helped as well.
I peel off my shirt before I step inside and then untie my hair.
I flip my cap around to keep the damp strands out of my face.
I’m in the middle of taking my shoes off when fast moving footsteps have me jerking upright.
And there she is, the object of my fantasies and frustrations.
She’s not wearing any makeup, her curly hair is loose and absolutely wild, and she’s in another one of my T-shirts with nothing underneath. I already have no control when I’m around her, but she’s really testing my will power.
“Hi,” she greets me as her eyes do a full body sweep. She wets her bottom lip and bites down on it as her gaze lingers on my bare chest. This isn’t the first time I’ve been half-dressed in front of her, but judging by the way she’s staring, she’s never paid attention before.
“Everything okay?”
Tamara nods and her face brightens. Fuck me, she’s beautiful.
“This is probably going to sound ridiculous, but please hear me out before you respond?”
“That doesn’t sound suspicious at all,” I mumble and she laughs. My lips twitch in response and I nod for her to continue.
She takes a deep breath and says, “Okay, so this was totally impossible to get and the fact that she agreed is blowing my mind. There’s this lady, a baker and I really want her as a client.
She’d be the ultimate collaborator and an incredible notch in my career.
She’s opening a new bakery in Chennai and I really want to design it.
I have soooo many ideas, Trick. SO MANY! ” she squeals the last two words.
I’ve never seen this side of her, even when we were kids, she was always poised and composed. Clearly whoever this bakery lady is, she’s a big deal.
“And I had to come up with an excuse to get an appointment. Can you be free tomorrow, so you can go with me? It’s a wedding cake tasting and I can’t go alone. Unfortunately everyone knows Vera and I might have already given them your name. So what do you say, Trick. Will you go with me?”
Her words slowly settle into my brain and all I can focus on are wedding and cake tasting.
“Yeah, Lo. I’ll go with you.”
She bounces lightly and takes a step forward, but changes her mind, almost tripping over her feet.
I grab her arms to steady her and Tamara blushes as her honeysuckle scent wraps around me.
This is a new version of her and I’m not sure how to respond to it.
Her smile is stunning and her eyes linger on my face, down to my chest and she nods.
“Thank you,” she whispers and I release her.
She walks away, leaving me in a puddle of sweat, emotions and what the fuck just happened?