Page 49 of Rebound
Seventeen. Mom and Dad
Patrick, September
It’s the day and I’ve been awake for two hours. In all honesty, I didn’t get much sleep. Ever since our night out at Elliot’s Beach, my head’s been heavy. It’s similar to what my depressive spirals feel like and I’ve been ignoring it. Obviously. The last thing I need right now is to fall apart the morning of our big appointment. Even if she knows this is what I live with, I need to trap it deep inside my brain.
Things are starting to get real.
When she said the baby hadn’t moved yet, I was worried and did some more research. Some say it’ll happen soon, but not instantly. When it comes to this baby, I’m impatient. I want to make sure they’re okay, that everything is going according to plan. I need Tamara to be safe and happy too, even if it means carrying a lot more of this anxious weight.
She spent most of the weekend out of the house doing site visits and client meetings. I know the basics of what she does for a living and I can’t imagine her clients being the demanding types; the ones that have no regard for weekends. But I don’t ask too many questions. We’re at peace right now and I would rather not disrupt it. Once this appointment is over, then I can approach how we’re going to handle things going forward.
I sit up in bed and run through our plan for the day as my alarm rings. I slap a hand over the digital clock on my bedside table to silence it and push to my feet. Face washed, hair tied back and feeling a little less dead, I retrieve my phone from where I left it on the kitchen counter. Sleep is the one thing I crave on a daily basis and I discovered leaving my phone outside my room increased the chances of me going to bed on time. And judging by the number of notifications, I’m glad I never take it to bed with me.
I smile at Nina’s long string of texts that are just exclamation marks and confused emojis. I slip my earphones in and video call my sister as I start the coffee machine.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Gah, put a shirt on, Patricia!”
I chuckle and hold it up to my smiling face. “Really good to see you too, Ninan.”
She rolls her eyes and waves me off. There’s a seven year age gap between us and ever since she was a kid, I’ve enjoyed picking on her. Back then she couldn’t fight back and would run to Elias or our parents for protection. Now she’s a badass badminton player who doesn’t back down from a scuffle. She started with the name calling when she was a teenager and I picked it up over the years. It’s our way of showing affection.
Elias calls us volatile, I call it love.
“It’s earlier than usual, why are you awake?”
“Fucking jet lag,” she mumbles.
Like me, Nina was in Paris to play badminton for India. Her last match was brutal and when she lost, I could see the pain in her eyes. She held herself high and strong as she congratulated her opponent. When my parents and I caught up with her later, she collapsed in my arms and sobbed. As her big brother, all I wanted to do was get her a fucking medal.
After her tournament finished, she and a bunch of friends went on a European holiday to relax. And if my math is right, she only got back two days ago.
“Wanna tell me what your texts were about?”
“I think you have something you need to tell me.”
I pretend to look confused as I fix my coffee. But her inquisitive expression turns murderous, so I clear my throat. “Who told you I have things to say?”
“Couldn’t reach you, called Nihal. He said you were in Chennai. Called E, who mumbled the whole time and then I tried you a couple of times yesterday. What’s going on?”
I should have told Nina as soon as I got to Chennai. But it’s been a whirlwind of chaos since I arrived and it slipped my mind. There’s no point making excuses, so I simply say, “I’m going to be a dad.”
Nina freezes, or the video does, but my sister doesn’t move. Not even a blink and every strand of her black and blue hair is still the way it was seconds ago. I peer into the screen and hope I didn’t lose the connection when she gasps and makes another sound that’s way too loud for earphones.
I wince and rip an earphone out. “Jesus, Ninan. Don’t wake the fucking dogs up.”
“What the fuck, Pat!”
I can’t hide my smile as I lift the mug to my lips and take a sip. Her eyes widen and she gasps again.
“Oh my god, you knocked Tamara up? I thought she hated your guts!”
“How…what?”
“The mug. Profanities and being a fucking lady. She’s one of a kind.”
I turn the mug around and read the words—I don’t spew profanities. I enunciate them clearly, like a fucking lady. “She really is,” I agree with a grin and take another sip.
“But seriously, how did you manage to get the one person that hates you pregnant?”
