“I’m already swimming,” he says with a frown, gesturing to the pool where he’s lazing in a watermelon shaped floatie.
“In the Bay, babe.”
A growl echoes behind me and I fight back a smile, lifting my sunglasses to the top of my head. Bash is a cricketer and plays for the Chennai Renegades alongside Elias. He’s a handsome guy and smiles more than most people I know. If this was a romance novel, he’d be a Golden Retriever or even the sunniest sunshine you’ve ever met. His short hair is slicked back with water and the wrinkles on his forehead slip away when I tilt my head and wave for him to join us. I’m glad he doesn’t have to be asked twice. He lifts himself out of the pool and flashes me a beautiful smile.
“To the Bay we go,” he says, grabbing towels as Nina returns.
With my large beach hat on my head and sunglasses covering my eyes, I slip my feet into my flip-flops just as another sound floats over. Looking over my shoulder, I find Patrick standing inside the house with his arms crossed over his chest. The smile that’s been lighting up his face all day is now replaced with a dark scowl. I wiggle my fingers in a wave and our eyes meet briefly before I turn away.
I completely ignore him when he mutters, “What are you doing, Lotus?”
When we get back to the house, Bash and Nina join the gang for beach cricket. I decide to stay back and Patrick looks like he’s going to do the same, but his siblings drag him away just in time. I wash up and take the time necessary to rinse and scrub my curly hair, using the quiet to also catch my breath.
Despite all of my flirting, I have no intention of doing anything with Bash. He knows it. In fact, we talked about it on our walk back to the house with Nina. I made it clear I’m fresh out of a shitty eight-year relationship and my last Tinder date was an absolute disaster, and while Bash is a great guy I’m not looking for anything right now. In fact, I’m not even looking for sex. Being single sounds pretty damn good. Even if it’s been a while since I’ve been alone.
It’s so cliché to say, but my relationship with Kabir was great at first. But the few good years don’t matter when the last few were the worst. There was cheating and lying, then lots of denying until I managed to catch him. Soon after the relationship ended, my therapist congratulated me. She never once asked why I didn’t leave before.
We knew why.
I didn’t stay with Kabir only out of love or because he was the only guy in the world. I stayed because I was comfortable and safe. Giving eight great years of my life to him might not have been part of my plan, but I thought we’d go the distance. We talked about it briefly, then ignored it forever.
It took a lot for me to kick him out and even then, it hadn’t been easy.
Now that he’s out of my life and my flat is empty of all his things, everything is better. I’m lighter, work is more fun, I get to do whatever I want to do and I feel relieved. It’s become very clear that I don’t need a relationship to be complete. I fulfill all my own needs.
It’s been two days since I got home from Mahabalipuram and I’d love to say I haven’t thought of Patrick once. Whenever my eyes slip shut, he’s there. Whenever I’m standing still during a site visit, he’s strolling through my brain like it doesn’t even matter. Then finally when I’m ready to start yelling and shouting about him during a therapy session, he texts.
Unknown
It’s Patrick. Joseph. Elias’s brother.
I don’t know why I said that. You know who I am. Just like I know who you are and you’re not a mean girl, Tamara. I don’t know why you chose to ignore me, but I’d love to talk about it.
I’m staying with Elias for a few more days before I go home. One conversation and I won’t bother you again. I’ll be in Paris next month and you won’t see me again. When you have the time, let’s talk. To clear the air. To understand why you hate me so much.
Here’s the address. I hope I get to see you soon, Lotus.
Two. Chase it.
Patrick
I’m staring at the front door when the bell rings, but I don’t move to open it. I’m not sure what to expect and I’m terribly nervous about how she might react. When I texted her, it was with the hope she would agree easily and I realise now I was foolish to assume it would be that simple. Nothing about my relationship with Tamara has been easy. It took her a whole twenty-four hours of leaving me on read before she replied.
Tamara Chandy
I’ve always been a mean girl and you don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot be. What do I get out of this conversation? Besides never seeing you again.
Okay, that was mean. But fine. I don’t really have anything to say. I know you’re going to keep texting until I agree, so I’ll be there this afternoon. A quick conversation and you’re gone.
When Elias told me he was bringing Vera and her cousin to our annual Mahabalipuram weekend, I knew I was screwed. The minute my brother started dating the bombshell CEO, I looked her up and found pictures of a familiar curly-haired goddess on her Instagram profile. Tamara Chandy, the one that got away. It took a few more clicks before I was staring at Tamara’s profile. Her pictures are more work-related with a few of her friend group scattered here and there. None of that mattered since I was so focused on the woman laughing and smiling at the camera.
The very same one scowling at me over the weekend. The same one that was testing my patience in her pink swimsuit and flirting with Bash. He apologised via text because clearly everyone knew there was something going on between me and Tamara. Yet, she’s the only one not giving me the time of day.
I don’t know if what she feels for me is hate or something else. It was in what she didn’t say that I deciphered her feelings. Or lack there of. If she could have, if Elias and Vera let her, Tamara might have cut me into tiny pieces and tossed me in the ocean. To think there was a time in our lives when we were so obsessively in love with each other.
Inhaling deeply, I convince myself this will be a breeze. Then pull the door open.
This is the first time I’ve been grateful for the blistering summer Chennai suffers through ninety percent of the year. Tamara’s wearing a floral dress tied at her waist. One tug of the string and the whole thing will come undone. She’s always been a voluptuous woman, soft in places I didn’t know you could be. The years have made her more supple and delectable. Her hair, once a weird curly mop, cascades down her back in ringlets. Her legs are bare, feet tucked into plain black strappy sandals. Even without makeup, her face glows and her soft lips are bright pink.
