Chapter Six

My big little secret

SAARANSH

 

“Saaransh Bhai, the pictures on the net are stunning.” Sunil sips his energy drink while we scroll through the Olympic news section.

“Yeah. The one with me in midair on the Olympics website is right in my top five.” I cherish them all, along with the news items on my victory. Ele danced with joy inside the closet, humming and squealing. Gillu in contrast is always restrained, the forever humble guy. He admonished Ele, but a smile still slipped out at the pics. The closet is my existential reality, and the conflict between my two sides is becoming more volatile by the day, threatening to burst through the walls. I am reminded of why I need to bolster these walls in the next instant.

“Hey, look what those two are doing.” Sunil nudges me as we walk along the tree-lined walkway in the Olympic Village, relaxing after our day’s matches. I turn to where Sunil’s eyes are focused. Two Canadian female athletes make out as their friends take a photo with the Olympic rings in the backdrop.

“Stop staring.” I hold Sunil by the elbow and maneuver him to the side so we can bypass them. The disgust on Sunil’s face disturbs me. When we are out of hearing range from the Canadian group, I confront him. “Why are you shaking your head? They have a right to live their life in the way they want to.”

“So, they will do anything anywhere. Are all the men dead in their country? This is a public place. If we were India, I would have shown them.” He snaps his hand out of my grasp.

“Cool down. They were only kissing.” My words have no effect. Sunil continues to mutter obscenities. Sunil’s reaction is the perfect example of why the world is a scary place for me. The hatred, prejudice, and discrimination against queer persons are everywhere.

My hands bristle, itching to grab him by the throat and punch some sensitivity into his thick head. You can’t take him on, sensible Gillu reminds me. Sunil is a hot-headed boxer. I drop the conversation. We walk in silence to let him simmer down.

Outside the badminton court, I am a shy, self-effacing pacifist. A persona I wear to protect the real me. I channel all my extroversion and energy into my game, letting Ele take over. The rectangle between the white lines is my sacred place. With a combination of aggression and competitiveness, I am a bull on the rampage on the court.

Forgive my pompous note. Excellence in badminton is my way of forcing the world to acknowledge my existence. I admit intimidating my opponents gives me a thrill. My antics have brought me a bit of infamy. The association doesn’t appreciate them, ticking me off a couple of times. My coach chides me every time. He has a hard time reining me in. Some say I am a brat not suited for the gentle game of badminton. Ele thinks otherwise.

The closeted inner brat hates every second of walking next to a homophobe. “Sunil, I am going to the park. I will meet you at lunch.” He acknowledges me and walks off. Thank god he took the hint.

I savor the last sips of my fresh mint, orange, and strawberry fruit punch I bought at the athlete’s village. The variety of food at the Olympic Village is mind-boggling, and I plan to sample dishes from outside India. Turkish and Mexican food is top of my wish list. The foodie in me must wait. I need to screw my head right before facing Sunil again. I sit down on a bench.

The leaves on the huge oak tree above me rustle in the light breeze. The freshness of grass and wet soil soothes my frayed nerves. The chirping of birds nearby adds to the serenity of the surroundings. The bench is cold, but soon my body acclimatizes under cover of a particular newly acquired favorite blue puffer jacket. River Lea flows peacefully in the company of meadows and colorful flowers lined along its banks. The place is captivating.

The calm, serene surroundings simmer down the lava coursing inside. The volcano almost erupted at Sunil’s reaction. Wonder what Blue would have done. I am sure he would have snapped Sunil into two. Shoot! My mind keeps going down the forbidden ‘Blue’ street. To divert my attention from him, I Google for directions to places I plan to visit. The London Eye should be next, the second item on my ‘Things to do in London’ list. Thanks to Blue, I can tick off the top one. The memory of the bar brings a pang to my heart.

The tiny prickles of Blue’s beard linger on. The nipple bite still stings with every rub of my shirt. Funny how since last night, the blue-eyed, dark brown-haired hunk of a teddy bear is occupying my mind. Sculpted from a rock but with a twinkle on his face that sends Ele on an artistic gymnastic floor routine.

A relationship is more than the sum of lips, nipples, and dicks. Human connections are an interplay of personalities, circumstances, and life experiences interwoven into a complex formula. Your attraction to Blue is only skin deep. Okay, Einstein Gillu, drop it. I get your drift. As if I have any chance to meet Blue again. I bought a raffle ticket with a winning number but ran before encashing. I will forever remain a pauper.

My phone buzzes. The call is from an unknown UK number; no point in answering the call. The phone goes bonkers with pings from messages following the unanswered call. Damn, can’t the world leave me alone with Blue? Am I not allowed to even brood about him? After resisting, I pick up my phone and scroll to the messenger icon, which shows unread messages.

‘Found you, Cinderella. Or should I say, Cinder-fella.’ Followed by an emoji wearing sunglasses.

‘Let’s meet—this time as our true selves. I am Brendon. I play rugby for Australia.’

‘I will wait for you at your favorite bar. 7.30 PM on the dot.’

My phone slips; I fumble to save it. The tremor in my hands makes my grip slippery. What do I do? Hyperventilate. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. He found out. Gillu and Ele both freak out.

How did he find me? Is he a friend of a journalist? What if he outs me? Oh Lord, what did I get myself into? Maybe if I ignore the messages, he will leave me alone. Over the next few minutes, I run through a series of what-ifs through my mind and narrow down my choices to two—do not respond vs. call him now.

Ele is having none of it. He pounds the closet walls. At least now don’t be a jerk . You owe Blue an explanation. Tell him the truth. He will understand. The brat overpowers my reluctance and ends the second-guessing. After multiple attempts at framing a response, I hit send. ‘How?’

The phone pings, ‘The plume of a particular handsome bird.’

The words send a shiver down my body. Blue remembers. My heart flutters at the prospect of meeting Blue again. Will we kiss again? This time, my fingers don’t hesitate. ‘Meet you at 7.30 tonight.’

‘As the Olympic semi-finalist?’ he responds.

‘No, as Saaransh Mishra 😉’

*

BRENDON

 

At twenty-eight years of age, two boyfriends, and a mile-long list of hookups, I am a teenager on the edge of his seat. Mr. Donger in my pants won’t mind his bloody business.

We exchanged a few texts in the night after Saaransh agreed to meet. When he is not hiding, Saaransh is fun and charming. I craved to hear his voice and see his face, so I proposed a video chat, but he refused, worried over his roommate’s presence.

His last text ended with the word ‘Blue,’ confusing me about the context. When I raked my brain about our night together, the missing blue jacket lit the bulb inside my head. The endearment made my heart mushy. The fucker side-stepped and teamed up with his mate inside my undies. Now they wait, eager to meet Shy.

Who is now five minutes late. Is he going to leave me hanging here? When I put my lager down, I see the glow of my phone. There is a message—’I am here.’

I scan the pub but don’t find him. ‘Where are you?’ I text.

‘The beer must have done a number on you. Look harder.’

Playing games, eh? ‘The only thing hard at present is down under. Come and see.’

Saaransh sends a facepalm emoji. The next message says. ‘Stand up and look beyond your—banana.’

The goof. I stand to peer outside the window. After a while, the silhouette leaning on a Victorian-style street lamp across the street catches my eye. I chuckle when I return the banana emoji with the message, ‘We are both standing. Want me to show you?’

I pay for my tab and walk outside. A few long strides, and I am in front of Saaransh in seconds. He is wearing the same hairstyle as yesterday, but the face is clean. Without the fake stubble, the sharp square jawline gives him a boyish charm. Today instead of the coat, he is wearing a black leather jacket over a blue sweater. Matched with form-fitting dark-blue jeans. Tempted by the memory of the body hiding behind the clothes, I swat his butt.

He jumps and stares at me, eyes scrunched. The wide-eyed, lips-pursed indignation lasts a few seconds before he rises on his toes and plants a kiss on my lips. I open my mouth and deepen the connection. Saaransh whimpers and invites my tongue to explore his mouth. This time he is all citrous. My tongue delights in the orange and tangy flavors of his mouth. Blood rushes south, and my dick perks up, but Saaransh breaks our lip lock. “Did you miss me?”“

Saaransh fakes his indignation. “Not me, Yogi bear.” He runs a finger around my hardening cock. “Someone else did.”

Cheeky sod. “Don’t tempt me.” I smack his butt again, not removing my hand, squeezing the firm butt cheek. Saaransh squirms in my grip and lowers his eyes.

He taps the gravel aside with his shoe before lifting his head and giving me a coy glance. “Can I call you Blue?”

I lift his chin with my finger. “Now this.” I hold his gaze while I rub his chin with my thumb.

I run a finger across his soft plump lower lip. “If I can call you Shy?” I kiss his drooping eyelids.

“Shy,” he whispers. The voice of people walking nearby alarms Saaransh. The fear returns to his eyes. What is with this guy? He pulls me away from the streetlamp toward a darker part of the street. “Brendon, we should talk.”

“Do you wish to go to the bar?”

“No, not there. No privacy.” Saaransh is still scanning the surroundings. What is he so worried about?

“How about my room? Same as last night.” I try to put him at ease.

He is hesitant. “No.” His voice is sharp.

The one-word reply irritates me. “So, what do you want? Hide in a closet.” My voice rises at the last words. Saaransh flinches. Shit, this is not who I am. “Hey, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to spook you, but I have done my time in the closet. I have no intention of visiting those dark corners again.”

“Sorry.” Shy’s head drops at the sight of my clenched jaw. He sighs. “Don’t be upset. I understand. Please hear me out, as a friend.” He scans our surroundings and takes my hand. “Let us take a walk and find a place where we can sit and talk in privacy.”