Chapter Twelve

A quizzical date

BRENDON

 

“How does this work?”

Saaransh reads the poster placed on our table. We are at a pub on Windmill Street. This one has a more elaborate seating arrangement and a stage for a live band. Today, a giant scoreboard hangs on the wall. A glass podium is placed on the side for the emcee to conduct the quiz.

“It’s a pub quiz. Today is Trivia Night. There are multiple rounds on general knowledge, movies, and music. If you are amongst the top three, you get a prize, which most of the time means free drinks, discount coupons, or branded t-shirts or beer mugs.”

“Hm.” Saaransh continues to read through the poster. “The theme today is sports, with the first prize of two tickets to the boxing finals. Blue, can we participate?” He bounces in excitement on his seat.

The innocent child in him lights up at the prospect of competing, bug-eyed with a pout on his lips. I want to squeeze this guy. Oops, there goes my heart again.

“Wait. Oh no, we can’t play. We need four members in a team to participate.” His shoulders slump.

I hate the downcast face, and I am willing to do anything to cheer Saaransh. Eddy and James left us alone after the introductions. Saaransh’s monosyllabic, awkward social conversation style from our first meeting had returned while they were around. Time to find my mates and drag them here. They will hate me, but what are friends for? “Wait here. I will get you a team.”

I walk over to the bar. The glares are on expected lines. “What? Who do you suppose we are? I am not getting into the geek shit.” Eddy takes offense.

“Hey, come on, mate, do me a favor. Saaransh is all excited about playing.”

“So, we team up and make fools of ourselves. You fancy four sports jocks to give any answers. Quizzes are for nerds, mate, not for us. I am a fierce competitor, and I won’t have my arse handed down to me in some trivia quiz,” Eddy drones on.

“Stop your chicken squawk. Losers’ names are not being flashed on prime news. What do we have to lose? Instead, we can make Saaransh happy.”

James puts his empty mug down. “You are buying us drinks?”

“Yeah, if you two pick up your fat butts and walk to the table.”

James pulls Eddy out. “Let’s go and make Bree’s boyfriend happy.”

The word boyfriend reminds me of my conversation with Sarah. James and Eddy’s presence may help buffer my rapid fall into the dangerous zone. We walk and take our seats around Saaransh.

“You won yourself a seat with the losing team.” Eddy pulls his chair as he sits across me. James sits opposite Saaransh.

“Umm, we may win.” Saaransh withdraws into his shell. Under the table, I place my hand on his shaky legs to still them and reassure him. He tries to move away, but I squeeze to hold him in place. He picks up the menu and hides behind it.

“Yeh, let’s play this thing and knock it out of the park,” James encourages us.

Eddy rolls his eyes. I call the waiter, order our drinks, and request the wireless quiz tablet. Saaransh watches my rapid hand movements as I use sign language. This bar is recognized as an equal-opportunity employer.

“You can sign?” Saaransh is slack-jawed.

“Umm, my brother Damian. He has a hearing disability. Everyone in our family knows how to sign.”

Saaransh nudges my hand under the table. He laces our fingers together and squeezes my palm. Our eyes lock. Another brick falls off.

James clears his throat, clearing the sappy fog engulfing us. “The quiz tab is here.”

Saaransh withdraws his hand and sets up the quiz. “Guys, here is the first question. Which team did Manchester City beat to win the Premier League title this year?”

“This is easy. QPR.” Eddy jumps in with the answer. I chuckle. Eddy is a competitive bugger. Give him an opponent in a game, and he will go all out.

“QPR would be Queens Park Rangers, right?” Saaransh confirms and clicks the answer.

Over the next thirty minutes, I sit and watch Saaransh. Tip of his tongue peeking in the corner from between his lips, eyes narrowed in concentration as he works on the quiz. The transformation is a revelation. This guy is two contrasting personalities. Uncertain and withdrawn in social situations. Loud and aggressive in a competition. Success in each round brings out the beauty of this man. He is charismatic when his inhibitions fall away. Will the world ever see the real Saaransh?

By the time we qualify for the final round, Saaransh is bouncing on the chair. His joy light up my world. When he mouths the words thank you, my chest grows two sizes with delight. If Saaransh keeps giving me those dopey puppy eyes, chest day at the gym will be redundant.

Saaransh geeks us through in the final round when he answers the question based on sports science. None of us would know this shit. We play for fun and the adrenaline rush to win. Who bothers about why the rugby ball flies through the air?

Saaransh reads out the question for all of us. “True or false? Dimples on a golf ball help reduce drag and increase the distance the ball flies.” He goes on to answer it. “True.”

“Are you sure?” James questions his response. We are all invested in the quiz, having contributed in every round. I chipped in the sports movie section, James in the general knowledge, and, surprise of all surprises, Eddy did well on the music questions. Our group is one step away from the prize.

Saaransh addresses Eddy’s concern. “I read about this somewhere. The streamlined airflow creates a greater low-pressure area on a smooth ball than the high-pressure one, producing a higher drag. Whereas dimples create turbulence in the air layer around the ball, reducing the low-pressure area’s size and hence the drag. Moreover, the dimples help lift the ball by creating a significant backspin on the ball as it sails through the air.”

“Nerd.” James chuckles.

Saaransh scoffs. “Hey, I am a qualified engineer, minted out of the dungeons of Indian education systems.”

The banter between us paints an image in my mind. All of us doing something similar in Melbourne. Saaransh with my mates and brothers, having a barbecue party in my backyard. Saaransh has no trouble mingling with Eddy and James. Not even when we arrived. Shy but not mean or clingy.

Anyone unfamiliar would peg the four of us as bosom buddies based on all the fun bro talk, even though we’re sharing a table for the first time. The banter is accompanied by fist bumps and shimmy dances to the band’s drum roll and cymbals between rounds. Not to mention the hugs across the table as we clear each level.

Gosh, how I missed such moments. Going out with friends for fun became impossible with Mike. He sneered or threw a tantrum if I laughed at a joke from Eddy or James. Mike would cling to me, grumpy in the company of my friends. The cute necklace of his arms early in the relationship soon became a tightening noose. Saaransh, in contrast, is comfortable, giving me space with my friends.

“Yay, we won!” Eddy goes for another round of high fives.

“Yahoo!” James roars, fist-pumping as he stands and gathers all of us in a group hug. And my Saaransh? He is all mush. A huge smile, eyes crinkled, and I suspect teary-eyed. Me? I rub my hand on my chest to settle the thunder inside.

We place second on the leader board and win discount coupons for a swanky restaurant nearby. While they leave, Eddy winks at me. James gives a double thumbs-up behind Saaransh’s back. Once they are gone, Saaransh pushes his envelope toward me. “You keep the coupon.”

“Why? We can go together.”

“I can’t keep sneaking out, Blue. My coach is going to hang me upside down if he finds out.”

“What if we go after the finals? He should not have a problem.”

“Yay. My first date.” Saaransh glows in delight.

Oh, boy. What am I going to do? The leash has snapped, and my heart has leaped out. The squishy red puppy is wrapped around Saaransh. I take his hand and rub circles with my thumb. “Done. It’s a date.” Yeah, this is how the mighty fall, with no safety net.