Chapter 24 Try This On For Size
Twenty-Four. Try this on for size
Patrick
Then
“It’s not the end of the world,” I mutter to myself as I stare out at the empty field in front of me. “Just another loss. It’s fine.”
It’s not fine. Not really. This was supposed to be the moment that proved I was on the right track.
After years of trying different things, I’d finally settled into the sport that would change my life.
When I first came to Madar, I thought I’d play cricket and dabble in something else.
I believed, like my father and grandfather, that would be what I enjoyed.
Then I discovered field hockey—sadly we don’t have enough ice in this country to play ice hockey—and my life changed.
So for the last two years, that’s what I’ve been playing.
Training, perfecting, making sure my moves are right, that I know all the rules and I’m eligible for so much more.
Today was about showcasing my talent and skills to the outsiders who came to watch the various matches happening at camp. And I failed.
Once every summer, we host our own version of the Olympics or Asian Games.
Where all the kids at the Madar Summer Sports Camp participate in a competition with our families, coaches from around the country and sports legends are invited to watch.
It was daunting the first year, but now I like the rush it gives me.
This was supposed to be my year, when I’d step onto the field and play the best damn hockey of my life.
I did, but my team still lost. We got one goal and I had nothing to do with it.
I assisted and defended my heart out, but it was still not enough.
I’m glad my parents couldn’t make it—my baby sister, Nina, is only four months old and Amma can’t travel with her—because I would have been even more embarrassed.
And they would have been disappointed. This way only I get to know just how badly I played.
I sigh at the rustling and approaching footsteps and shake my head. “I want to be alone.”
“I know, but I thought you might be hungry.”
A bundled up cloth napkin appears in front of me. It opens when I grab it and my smile widens at the chocolate chip muffins stored inside.
“How did you get these?”
“I know people in the kitchen and also traded some chores.”
“You didn’t have to do this, you know?”
“I wanted to. Okay, I’m gonna head back. Promised to help with sports day clean up.”
“Wait—” I snag her hand and tug her forward so she’s in my line of sight. “—wanna share these with me?”
Tamara’s face lights up, but she tilts her head to the side. “I thought you wanted to be alone?”
“I like being alone with you.”
She laughs and sits down beside me, her knees pulled to her chest. Our shoulders brush as I set the muffin-filled napkin on my lap and break one in half.
She takes it without hesitation and we eat our treat in silence.
Maybe this is why our relationship works—we know each other well, we don’t force our way into each other’s lives and the silence is always comfortable.
We’ve grown up a lot since the first time we met at camp and I know, without a doubt, that I’m completely in love with her. I wonder if she knows that.
“Is there something on my face or am I distracting you from being alone?” she asks, eyes fixed ahead of her.
“I love you,” I say softly and her attention snaps to me so fast I’m sure there’s a crick in her neck.
“What?”
A blush coats my cheek as I wipe crumbs off the sides of her mouth. “I love you. Or at least that’s what I think this feeling is.”
She looks so confused as she asks, “What is the feeling?”
“I always want to smile around you. My heart does this funny thing where it sometimes stops and starts again. I miss you when you’re not around. I think about you when we’re apart. I dream about you all the time.”
“That’s how I feel too,” she admits, her eyes wide as we stare at each other.
I don’t really know what love is, but I’ve heard my parents say it often. Amma says it to me and it feels like soda fizzing in my chest. Whatever the feeling is, I have it when I’m around Tamara too.
“Then you love me.”
She giggles and I add the sound to my list of things I love about her.
“I guess I do.”
My responding smile hurts my cheeks, but it feels good. We lean in, meeting halfway as our lips touch. We’re still learning the logistics of kissing, but somehow this is good enough.
Now
The past few days have been quite emotional, but in a good way.
Knowing Tamara doesn’t hate me or isn’t plotting my murder makes a huge difference.
I can’t believe we spent twenty-something years not knowing about the mess we’d made.
While a lot of it is on me for not getting in touch with Tamara—even if at the time I couldn’t comprehend how—we now know we’re both at fault for the animosity the last few months.
I’ve also been thinking about our camp days a lot more of late.
The sneaking around before one of the counsellors found out about our relationship, the kissing behind the shed, the day we first admitted our feelings—the memories are perfectly preserved in my mind.
We’re going to make new ones, but I could never forget those.
Despite all of the shit that came after, those few years together were some of our best and holding onto them is important.
This week, I’ve been at Sunrise Niketan while the contractor goes over the sports ground and draws up plans.
Ganesh and Kaveri have been there every step of the way, asking questions and answering the ones I have.
Nihal and I want to get this one up and running before the end of the year, especially with the LHT tournament starting at the end of December.
While he can be here to oversee the work, I want to have my hand in the pie as much as possible.
It’s been exhausting, though. My mornings are at the school and my evenings are dedicated to training.
The team is getting their shit together, especially after our big conversation recently.
My mood’s improved, which helps them and they’re not playing like amateurs, which makes my job easier.
I question if we can do this while watching game tape from the other teams. Getting a bunch of guys to play like a team in two months is not easy and there’s only so much pushing you can do before one of them snaps.
So finding the balance has been a bit of a challenge, but I’m not a quitter and neither are they.
After another gruelling training session, I get home to an empty flat.
I thought Tamara was staying at work late to avoid me, but it’s become pretty clear she’s got too much work on her plate.
Or she’s working herself to the bone. It worries me that she’s pushing herself too hard.
We haven’t talked about the nursery or her maternity leave since we’ve been locking horns on everything else, but that ends today.
We need to figure out what the next few weeks are going to be like so we have some kind of a plan in place.
How late are you going to be?
Lotus
I dunno. Why?
It’s 8pm, Lo. Have you eaten dinner?
Lotus
Ugh, I lost track of time.
I can hear you grinding your teeth from all the way over here, so relax. I’m leaving in the next 20 minutes.
I flex my jaw. Of course I was grinding and gritting my teeth. Blowing out a slow breath so I don’t freak out, I take my time typing out my reply.
We really need to talk about your working hours.
Lotus
We really don’t.
I’ll see you when you get home.
She replies with an eye roll and thumbs up emoji.
Even if we’re not snapping and snarking at each other, this is Tamara’s personality.
I love it, I don’t want her to change. But she needs to take better care of herself right now.
The upside is, she eats everything I cook and is very clear about her cravings and forbidden items. We’ve built a balance with her eating habits, at least. Now I just need to help her get on board with everything else.
I peek into the fridge and find enough for dinner, then go have a shower. When Tamara says twenty minutes, sometimes it means an hour. So I’m not surprised the apartment is empty when I’ve freshened up. With the windows open and all the fans running, I cook.
Once I’m done with our sandwiches, I store them in a container to retain the crispiness and heat, then order dessert.
As much as I’d love to whip up chocolate chip cookies, I know there won’t be any time for it.
With everything tucked into a large canvas tote bag, I head up to the terrace.
After a run early one morning, I decided to climb the stairs to the top and back down a few times as a way to get my adrenaline pumping.
I met one of Tamara’s neighbours and they showed me around the terrace.
Covering the entirety of the building, it’s a large open space.
On one side is a garden someone in the building set up with vegetables and a few herbs.
The rest of it is completely empty. Apparently the association has been trying to turn this into a hang out-slash-party space, but there haven’t been enough funds after all the maintenance work is done every year. So they’ve been putting it off.
I’m an overachiever, so I add it to my list of things to help out with at some point.
Today, however, I’m making the most of the empty terrace.
While it’s still quite warm, Chennai is getting cooler.
The temperature has dropped about five degrees and the humidity isn’t as stifling.
Unlike a lot of Indian cities, the air pollution isn’t as bad here either, but it’s still not the best. I lay out a table cloth—we don’t have any picnic blankets—and set our food in the middle.
Since we’re not drinking alcohol, I brought up flasks of cold water and spiced buttermilk1 so my baby mama gets enough nutrients.
I even brought up a wireless lamp just in case it gets too dark when we finish.
Drop your stuff off at home and come up to the terrace.
Lotus
Why?
Just trust me.
She replies with a GIF of someone sighing heavily and I chuckle. Setting my phone aside, I tilt my head up and stare at the stars until I hear the terrace door click open, then shut. I smile at her grumpy footsteps. She gasps and I look over my shoulder to find her staring at the spread.
“What is this?”
“Date night,” I say and gesture for her to join me. She looks perplexed, but toes off her shoes and kneels on the table cloth. “You said we can’t pick up where we left off at camp, so I figured a proper date might be a good place to start.”
“You did all this after you got home?”
I nod, pour out a glass of water and hand it to her. “I’m serious about doing this right, Tamara. The snark has been fun, but isn’t this better? We can try this on for size.”
Her face splits into a smile once she’s done drinking her water. “This is really nice, Trick.”
“I’m glad, Lo. Wooing you, proving that we’re doing the right thing…it’s important to me.”
“This is important to me too,” she says with a smile.
I don’t add that I’m falling back in love with her yet. We still need to work through everything else first. She finishes her water and looks at everything else I’ve brought upstairs, eyes widening when she sees the cookies.
“Did you bake those?”
“In twenty minutes? I’m a master chef, but that’s asking for a lot.”
She laughs and opens the container with our dinner. “Oh my god, you didn’t.”
“Whole wheat bread, bacon, lots of cheddar and pickles. Just for my baby mama.”
Tamara picks up one of the modified grilled cheese sandwiches and twists it around, eyes lighting up at how good it looks.
I’ll admit this is my first time making a grilled cheese with anything other than ham, but the fact that it turned out so perfect makes me think I could do this more often.
Her eyes meet mine as she takes a bite, then flutter shut as she moans.
If I wasn’t prepared for the sound, my dick would be standing at attention right now.
But every time she eats something I make, Tamara moans or groans or goes into a state of ecstasy and I’ve finally gotten used to it.
Trust me, I’m still hard as a rock, but I’m not uncomfortable about it.
“This is so good, Trick,” she mumbles through a mouthful of sandwich.
“Another meal to add to your food list.”
Tamara rolls her eyes. “That list is overflowing. I feel like you should repeat stuff. Stop trying to make new things.”
“Are you not enjoying all of my experimenting?”
“I am! But why put yourself through all of this?”
Because I enjoy feeding you feels too heavy an answer, but that’s what it is.
My feeding kink? It’s the only reason I spend at least fifteen minutes every day scouring the internet for tasty, but quick recipes.
I reach across and wipe a crumb off the side of her mouth and smile.
“I like cooking, it’s a good destresser and you enjoy what I make. ”
“So you do this for me.”
It’s a question posed as a statement and I shrug. “I do it for us. You eating and being healthy is important to me.”
With a snort, she returns to her sandwich.
Attacking it like it’s going to run away from her.
I take my time eating my serving, the silence between us comfortable and easy.
The buzz of the city fills the spaces, conversations from other flats and neighbours drift over now and then.
But it never feels like we have to speak.
When she’s done, Tamara licks the butter and cheese off her fingers and only then does she use one of the napkins I brought to wipe them clean.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I turn away to look at the stars again, needing the strength not to do something stupid like kiss her before she’s ready. Even as I think it, her lips press against my cheek.
“Thanks for tonight, Patrick,” she says softly and leans against me.
“You’re welcome, Lo.”
Tamara snuggles into my side as I finish my dinner.
We stay like that as we drink the buttermilk and munch on the chocolate chip cookies.
When the lamp starts to dim, we gather everything and head back to the flat.
We wash the dishes together, talking about our days, and finish the rest of the cookies before we separate for bed.
Later, while I’m staring at the ceiling, I wonder if the rest of our lives could be this easy. This simple and carefree.