“Yeah, Lotus. I’ll win the medal.”
Seven. Baby daddy
Tamara
It’s been four days and I’m still reeling from my phone call with Patrick. We’ve been texting. Technically, he’s been texting. A lot. He doesn’t care about time differences and sends me pictures of parenting books he’s ordered so we can read them together. He’s on a mission to ensure we’re ready for this baby. It’s cute, but very disarming. I don’t know what I expected when I told him, but this wasn’t it. Even if he seemed to panic when the words first came out, he was calm when he said we’d figure it out together.
Some might say it’s unfair to compare the two men I’ve loved, but after seeing Patrick’s support, I wish Kabir had been there for me more after the miscarriage. He brushed the whole thing off like it was my problem, since it was obviously my fault I’d lost the baby neither of us knew about. Even then, I didn’t see the mess of our relationship.
He was the first person outside of my family and closest friends who seemed to like me. Love me, even. And I was craving companionship when he came into my life. I know now moving in together was a part of what ruined our relationship. Alone time was important to me while Kabir wanted to socialise constantly. I wouldn’t let him host parties in the flat and he’d stay out all night with his friends. The smallest things became big issues and when I lost the baby, he snapped. At first I thought he was mad because he wanted the baby and blamed me for the loss. Later I realised he was mad I’d interrupted his work meeting for something out of his control.
Is it weird I don’t miss or think about him more?
You know who I am thinking about? Patrick.
The video call was unnecessary, but a good reminder of how fucking beautiful he is. His beard was well groomed and his hair was untied, but looked purposefully messy. And those eyes. Fuck me, those eyes. Even when we were teenagers and falling in love for the first time, his eyes always got me to do anything. A light brown with golden flecks, they’re unusual for Malayali men, but of course Patrick would be blessed with all the good things in life. Including great bone structure, perfect eyebrows and broad shoulders my legs remember hanging off.
Good grief, calm yourself.
I shake my head, getting rid of the visuals from our one night together. That’s what got me into this situation. As much as I want to have this baby, I don’t need to think about the man any more than necessary. Almost like he knows I’m thinking about him, my phone buzzes.
Patrick
I’ve been looking up baby stuff and apparently at this stage, it’s a bean. Can we call them Beanie?
Do you have a little baby bump?
When’s your next appointment? Can it wait until I get home?
Maybe you should come to Paris and do an ultrasound here to find out if it’s a boy or a girl. Not that it matters to me either way, but shouldn’t we know?
Actually, I don’t want to know. I’d like to be surprised.
I stare at our chat until the three dots disappear and then flip my phone over. We’re handling this unexpected development better than I thought we would. Or maybe it’s easy to navigate this with all the distance between us. His brief panic attack makes me think he’s going to need more time. I sprung this on him and it’s a huge deal. For one, we’re not together. Two, our lives are going in totally different directions. And three, we’ve got a lot of history I’m in no mood to sort through. We should be worrying, stressing about things and questioning whether this is a good idea. Right? At least he hasn’t said it’s a mistake yet.
After I told Vera and Varun, I had to break the news to the rest of the family. Tessammai and Jakesappapen were so happy, they made me believe I’d done the right thing. They celebrated, then calmed down and asked if I was sure it was what I wanted. I promised them I was making the decision to keep the baby with every possibility laid out before me.
The more terrifying part is knowing I’m pregnant with Patrick’s giant baby.
“Miss Chandy, your phone’s been ringing continuously,” my assistant, Pallavi, tells me as I step off the elevator. I frown and take the device from her, my heart jolting at the number of missed calls from Patrick.
“Can you please let Pavan know I’ll be a little late for our meeting?”
She nods and scurries away as I close the door to my office. It’s early in Paris, so whatever this is, can’t be good. I return the FaceTime call while untying my hair from the tight bun I pulled it up in earlier. The call connects and I only see darkness at first, then I hear his heavy breathing. I stare at my screen until he’s standing somewhere with more light. This is not the Patrick I know. His eyes are unfocused, there’s a sheen of sweat covering his face and he’s tugging at his hair as he breathes loudly through his mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m terrified,” he whispers. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
“You were born to play hockey, Patrick. You worked your ass off for this.”
“The baby, Lotus.”
My stomach bottoms out and I nod. I knew it was too good to be true; he hadn’t processed everything. He was clouded by his lust for me, or whatever.
“I want us to do this, okay? But what if…what if I’m so fucking bad at it.”
“Patrick…”
