Page 64 of Rebound
“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.”
