Chapter Twenty

Ghosts of the past

SAARANSH

 

Each day of the past week tested my patience—my heart split between Copenhagen and Melbourne. The Gold in London and the win in the Japan Super Series event added 21,000 points to my kitty, bringing me within striking distance to the world number one position. The 11,000 points after winning the Denmark Open means I am sitting pretty at the top of the Men’s rankings of the Badminton Federation.

Another fourteen hours separate me from Brendon. I open the messenger chat with Brendon as my plane waits to take off after the stopover at Doha Airport. The dork in me delights at his message.

Blue: Waiting for you, babe

Me: Patience is a virtue

Blue: Not for me. Not with you. Lost my restraint after I met a sexy brumby

Me: Did you sling an Ozzie slang at me?

Blue: Touchy, are we today? Relax. Brumby means a wild horse. I am waiting to ride my champion thoroughbred colt.

Me: What can one expect from an O-grabbing expert who runs around holding them tight to his chest?

Blue: The only O’s I am eager to grab are yours!! 😉

The man next to me frowns when my guffaw rattles the seats. Yes, this confirms I am a perv. Our banter does not end.

Blue: I take offense. Unfair for a world champion at blowing cocks to denigrate my profession.

Me: The only cock I blow is the one attached to a round firm butt with the dragon tattoo. Others are for smashing around.

Blue: Ew, I am never playing badminton with you.

Me: Go chew your ew. But you won’t deny me the O game. Will you teach me? I am a fast learner. 😊

The steward comes over and gives me a weird look. The entire chain of texts turns me on, and my pants tighten. Up at 35,000 feet with 300 other passengers, there is no place to relieve one’s horniness. Unless you want the stewards to strap a parachute and push you off the plane for making all the noises, Gillu admonishes Ele. While they sort things out, I squeeze my thighs tight and cover my boner with a blanket. Warm and snug in anticipation of meeting Brendon, I go off visiting dreamland.

When the flight lands, my fellow passenger jumps out of his seat. He pulls a face before scooting away from me. Did I talk in my sleep? Or worse—nope, my underwear is dry. I avoid his gaze busying myself gathering my carry-on.

I fidget with the strap of my carry-on through the entire immigration process. The line to the luggage carousel is long. I can’t wait to grab my bags to be on my way. Some people approach me for a selfie. I oblige them. At least on this trip, there were no jerks to reckon with, no hate or spite directed at me.

The seconds crawl as the bags take an eternity to come out. When they do, I squeeze between other passengers and swing them off the belt in a hurry. Rushing out of the exit, I grin at the person standing in front of me. Brendon has a wrist splint on his left forearm. The bruises on the face are faint. His face is more rugged and yummy. I jump and hug him.

“Where is my medal?” Brendon pushes me away and uses his healthy hand to make his demand.

I search in my backpack to take out the case. Brendon’s eyes widen. After opening the case, I take out the medal and hang the metal disc around his neck. He rubs the medal between his fingers and chews the edge. “This looks good on me.”

“Do I look good on you?” I wink with my arm around his waist. He pecks my cheek and continues to play with the medal, flipping the disc both ways to read the engraving. “Are we going to stand here for the rest of the day? What about your end of the deal? I can’t keep coming to Australia on a tourist visa and not get a guided tour of the country.” On purpose, I move my eyes from Brendon’s face to his waist and wiggle my eyebrows.

Brendon squeezes my hand. “Now lad, we wouldn’t want to while away our time, would we? There is an abundance of scenery we both can admire together.”

“Bigmouth talking. No action and blabbering make Brendon a dull boy.”

Brendon glares and crushes my hand.

“Ouch. Mind you, this is the hand which shall fulfil your fantasy.” I fake the hurt.

“Hmm, lots of other ways to fulfil my fantasies. Follow me.” Brendon helps me with the bags as we move to the parking area where an older version of Brendon is waiting for us, taller but buffer.

“Saaransh, meet Rob.” Brendon does the introduction. Rob studies me with intense eyes. I squirm and slide behind Brendon. “Rob, stop scaring him.” Brendon pulls me to his side and places his arm across my shoulder.

“What do you see in this dork, mate?” Rob cocks his head toward Brendon while extending his hand to me.

“Why? Are you interested?” I shake Rob’s hand, channelling Ele into my firm grip. The cocky pink elephant is my shield to face Brendon’s family on this trip. “Do you play for our team?” I wiggle my eyebrows, challenging Rob. Brendon snorts beside me. “How will you compete?” I trace Brendon’s silhouette from head to toe with a grand wave, watching the megawatt grin on his face with delight.

“I like this one.” Rob chuckles. He yanks me from under Brendon’s arm and hugs me.

After the introductions, we get into the SUV. “So, where are we heading?”

“First, we drop the extra stuff at my place.” Brendon places a light kiss on my forehead.

We chatter on the ride about my Copenhagen trip. The drive from the airport to Brendon’s place in Mount Eliza, is exhaustive. When I come out of the SUV, my eyes bug out. “Wow, Blue, you live here?” I can’t help admiring the sight before me. The weatherboard house is at an elevation with flower beds surrounding the perimeter. Trees line the front lawn on both sides to complete the landscape. A hedge cordons off the area from the neighboring houses.

“Blue? He calls you Blue?” Rob’s chuckle breaks my fawning over the house.

“Why? Is there something wrong in calling him Blue?” I panic. Have I been using a crappy word for Brendon?

“Relax, Shy. Blue is used in several ways in Ozzie slang.” Brendon wraps his arm around my shoulders.

“Why did you not stop me?”

“I love when you call me Blue. It is our intimate connection.”

Brendon’s words and the thousand-watt smile allay all my concerns. “Like the warmth I get when you call me Shy.”

Brendon pulls my face closer to his for a kiss. His cheeks are pink. Is this what fair people call blushing? Why did I not notice the flushed cheeks before? The color change from pale to pink is fascinating. I wish to see the glow more often on Brendon’s face. One more addition to my life goal—find ways to keep his face pink and the eyes shining with joy.

Rob clears his throat. “You two are too cute. Shy and Blue.” He laughs and shakes his head. Brendon gives him an elbow. Rob recovers and shoves Brendon and me toward the door.

*

POP!

The bang stuns me as we round the corner. The room erupts in cheers and claps. Within a few seconds, all three of us are covered in colored confetti. A huge red banner with bold white words, ‘Welcome World Champion,’ hangs across the living room wall.

Brendon nudges me with his shoulder, bringing to my attention the crowd of beaming people before us. Oh, my god, this is so embarrassing. I hide behind my two massive escorts, Brendon and Rob. Sarah comes over, pulls me out from between them, and hugs me. Followed by James and Eddy, who wrap in a tight circle before James lifts me in the air. “Nice to see you, mate. Congratulations.” The high fives remind me of our trivia night—memorable time spent amongst friends. I hope we do one while I’m here.

Brendon’s parents break our bromance. His mother gives a peck on my cheek. His father extends his hand. I look at Brendon. A slow blink indicates everything is fine. I shake Mr. Marsh’s hand. He surprises me by pulling me into a hug. “Well done, son.” His words make the tub of my emotions overflow.

Brendon introduces me to his other two brothers, Matt and Damian. They have enough body mass to create another four humans my size. Their hair is shades of brown. Matt, the lawyer, is the eldest and has some white hair on his sideburns. He is the only one who wears glasses. Damian is two years elder than Rob but fit as a fiddle. Guess being a gym owner has its perks. Mr. and Mrs. Marsh did a splendid job with their kids. I turn to her. “What did you feed these guys? They must have been a mouthful.” I remember how Ma struggled to keep up with my appetite once I got my growth spurt.

She grins. “Don’t get me started. They are my babies.”

All four of them groan in unison. “Mom.”

Once things settle, I take Brendon aside and give him the kiss of my life. “Thanks, Blue. No one has ever done this for me. I have never been in a room full of people celebrating my win.” If only my family were here. I miss them. However, now is not the time, so I sweep those imaginary melancholy arrows away.

“Whoa. If this wins me a scorching kiss, sign me up for event planning all your tournament wins.” He lowers his head and plants a gentle kiss on my lips. His hand rubs my thigh, and the thumb commences its circular motion, reeling me into him. Before things heat up inside my pants, Brendon’s father calls him away to help with the drinks.

“Coming, Dad,” Brendon answers.

The temperature drops around me as he leaves. My body shudders, missing Brendon’s warmth. I am a cord wound tight on the bobbin with my heart tethered at the end, waiting for Brendon to release me into the air. Fly me and make me soar. We have not as yet crossed second base. My hopes are high when we spend time alone on our road trip. Three days, only me and Brendon.

When I raise my head, three pairs of eyes in various shades of blue are studying me. The members of the Marsh pack surround me. Matt, Damian, and Rob. Matt’s eyes are laser-focused on my face. I shudder. Damian is smirking, and Rob wiggles his eyebrows as he matches the goofy grin on Sarah’s face, who casually stands beside me. I clear my throat, but the voice still comes out as a squeak.

“Am I in trouble?”

Matt adjusts his glasses. “Yeah, depends on how you fare in the family ritual.”

“An initiation ceremony.” Rob picks his beer and takes a swig. “Any girlfriend or boyfriend has to pass a test before they are let into the inner circle.”

My trouble radars fire. Whistles of a train blare. I am a lamb surrounded by a sleuth of Australian bears? Not the cuddle koala types. The Marsh pack around me is anything but cute.

“Don’t worry. We will be kind to you.” Sarah chimes in.

Matt adds in his lawyer’s voice, “You only need to answer a few simple questions.”

My throat becomes dry. I pick up my Coke and take my time to sip. Four against one, I bet they had this all planned out. To wriggle out of this sibling interrogation, I use my best weapon. “I heard about the ELTES to enter Australia, but no one told me about the MTB.”

“What is an MTB?” Matt narrows his eyebrows.

With my hands, I sign for Damian’s benefit. “Marshes’ Test for Brendon.” Or Mess the brothers, Ele snickers. Shh, they don’t need to know. Damian snorts, spurting his drink. Drops land on all of us. Matt swats him.

Rob hands out napkins to soak the spilled drink. “I like this one.”

Matt clears his throat. “Some order please. We must examine the evidence first.”

“Wait. If this a trial, I need my counsel.” No amount of man muscle can intimidate me when I step up my competitive game.

“Motion denied.” Matt frowns.

“Can I go and bring my racket at least?”

Rob puts his hand on my shoulder as I take a step. “No running away, shuttle boy.”

Trapped. Time to show these brothers what they are up against. With my head held high, standing straight as a pole, I narrate my rights in a gruff voice, simultaneously moving my hands to sign. They all watch bug-eyed. “I have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer your questions. Anything I say or do will be used against me.”

Damian chortles. He is on his way to becoming my favorite brother. Matt, not so much. He glares at Damian and me. I am not so easy to cower down. Not when Ele and Gillu join forces.

“Don’t give me those eyes. I know my rights, Mr. Lawyer. And for the record, each of you can only ask one question.”

Matt doesn’t flinch. He stands across me with a straight face and shoots the first question. “Do you recognize this kid?” He pushes a photograph in front of me.

The photo is a pale print of six kids on a beach: five boys and a girl, primary or middle school. The eldest one is lying on the beach, hands propping his head. Two are making a sandcastle around his feet. A girl with two ponytails is decorating the castle with shells. Another kid with blond hair is shoveling sand at a distance. The last one with brown hair carries two buckets filled with sand to the construction site, nose scrunched, and a grimace on his face.

“Do I need to report this to the AASS?” I wave the pic in my hand.

“What?” Sarah lingers closer to peep at the photo.

“Association Against Sibling Slavery. You were working this poor kid.” I place my finger on Brendon’s protruding tummy in the photograph.

Sarah squeezes my arm. “Two points to Shy.”

We do a soft high five. “How many do I have to win to ace the MTB?”

“Since you restricted us to four questions, I would consider six as the cut-off,” Rob informs me.

“Making things tough, eh.” I raise my eyebrow.

“Nothing in this world is easy, mate.” Rob smirks. “Are you ready for the next one?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Damian hands me his phone and signs to ask which one is Brendon. This photo has a large group of college boys in various stages of undress in a locker room. “Tsk-tsk, more visual clues. You disappoint me. No variety,” I tease them while I scroll through the pic. I spot the brown-haired thick boy in his underwear. Oh my, no wonder gay boys wanted a piece of him. “This is Brendon playing for his college,” I blurt my response, pointing at the cute boy in red tight briefs to Damian. His face lights up.

“Brendon must have shown you these photos,” Rob alleges.

“Nope. Not yet. Should I describe the butt tattoo to validate my answer?”

“Ew, we are not discussing my brother’s butt cheeks.” Sarah covers her face.

“So, do I win my two points?” Damian signs yes. “Who is next?” I turn to Sarah and Rob.

“I have a simple but important question for you. Is your and Brendon’s relationship on firmer ground now?”

Her question is genuine and deserves a careful answer, but Matt adds a twist before any response forms in my mind. “What we are worried about is our kid brother hurting himself.” The concern in their eyes makes me uncomfortable. Something I have been wondering about since I visited the hospital after Brendon’s accident. This super-protective instinct of Brendon’s entire family has a link to his past. I tried prying details when I texted Brendon from Copenhagen asking about the man with the bouquet of red roses.

‘He is an ex. Don’t worry about him.’ Brendon did not elaborate, and I did not dig deeper. A search on the net did throw up Insta posts and a few articles about them together, but nothing to raise eyebrows.

The air is tense as the group waits for my response. What should I say? Casual relationships are not my dish. I long to find an anchor in my life. A person who completes me. A man with whom the aches and tears will be worth living, the joys cherished. Brendon is my hope, and I wish to explore this journey with him.

Truth and trust are vital here. I have already stumbled once. “I am not sure I qualify as his boyfriend yet, but believe me, I care about Brendon. Hurting him caused me equal pain.” Sarah’s gentle nod confirms she understands. Matt keeps staring at me. From the corner of my eye, I notice Damian’s eyes fixed on my face reading my lips.

“My turn. Who is the better player, you or Brendon?” The devilish grin on Rob’s face tells me he is fishing. Rob wiggles his eyebrows. Oh, so this is how he wants to play this game. Competition never fazes me. “How can you compare? Brendon plays with balls, and I am an expert at cocks?” I fire my return shot at Rob.

Matt coughs and spills his drink again. Sarah snorts, “I warned you. This one bites.”

Oh, boy, two tomatoes pop up on Rob’s face. “Sure does. Damn, no scoop to rib Bree.”

“Hmm, snooping around for your brother’s bedtime kink. Sorry, I don’t shag and tattle.” My drink comes in handy to cover my smugness at the round of laughter and red faces around me.

“Are you boys done hogging our guest?” Brendon’s mom breaks our huddle. She pulls Matt and Rob away to help with the guests. Sarah follows them.

Damian stays behind for a while, discussing where I learned the sign language. Before he leaves, he pulls me into a hug and pats me. Left alone, I take in the place. The wooden flooring with light and dark tones contrasts with white walls and ceilings. The space is not cluttered with furniture. A splash of greens from the Peace Lily and Swiss cheese plant adds vibrancy to the large living room. Lavender and sage fill the space with freshness. The natural light from the large windows, together with the concealed lighting, brightens the room.

I walk and stand by the window, admiring the afternoon sun in the sky. Is hoping to build something with Brendon too much too soon? Someone clears their throat and breaks my brooding. The man with red roses. What is Mike doing here? His eyes are red. He swaggers to my side with a glass of wine in his hands, reeking of alcohol. The silence with which he studies me makes standing here with Brendon’s ex more awkward. I have no issues if Brendon still wishes to keep their friendship. I school my face, reflecting my stoic professional persona, hoping to keep matters cool between us. “Hello.”

“The prodigal boyfriend returns. Brendon sure can put up a fine display of his trophies.” Mike sneers.

The jab is sharp. I don’t intend to play Mike’s game and cause a scene when all the people are welcoming. I excuse myself. Mike does not give way, so I squeeze through a chair from the other side. When I am through, Mike bumps his elbow into me, sending the wine he is holding onto my pants. The glass falls and shatters.

“Oops, my bad. You go on. I will find someone to clean this.” Mike makes a show of this being an accident, but I know better. Well, this is as far as being the nice Saaransh goes. If he is trying to shove me to the curb, he has another thing coming. There is a reason my opponents dread my returns.

*

BRENDON

 

“Cool chap.” Matt joins Dad and me at the makeshift bar. The words from Matt are high praise. He doesn’t appreciate anyone in the first meeting. Always a sceptic.

“You did not tell us your boyfriend can use sign language.” Dad points me to the window, where Damian and Saaransh are engaged in an animated discussion with their hands. My heart freaks out, going into a frantic pump. Damian has been deaf since birth. Everyone in our family can sign, but Saaransh making the effort melts my heart into a gooey pulp.

Damian shakes my shoulder. He points to Saaransh and gestures to show- perfect. But trouble is brewing at the window. I watch Mike block Saaransh and dump his drink on him. “Who the fuck let him in?”

“Shit. The nerve of this tosser.” Matt follows me toward them. Saaransh manages to keep his cool and walks to me. Mike is swaggering two steps behind. Saaransh senses him and picks a fry from the table on the side, dips a potato stick in the ketchup, and bites.

“Mmmmh.” He prolongs the moan and skitters a finger along my lips. “Can I have you with the ketchup?” He grabs my face and smothers his lips to mine. We kiss till someone snickers.

“Hey, you promised no X-rated stuff.” Rob maneuvers to stand between Saaransh and Mike to avoid a showdown.

“You were the ones talking about the naughty stuff.” Saaransh settles on his feet and scoffs at Rob.

Mike steps to the side, eyes glaring at us. The dipstick won’t stand down. Rob holds Mike by his elbow. “Why are you here?”

Mike shoves and struggles to release his arm. Matt uses his no-nonsense voice. “Answer Rob.”

“I am a photojournalist. I wouldn’t miss a photo op,” Mike slurs.

I move Saaransh behind me, hiding him from Mike’s hate-filled glare. “You’re not welcome.” I grip Mike’s wrist as he moves his hand to my face. “Behave.”

“Aww, sweety. Now you don’t like my touch.”

“Mike, you are on private property without invitation.” Matt moves between Mike and me. “Rob, escort this trespasser out of the house.”

“Down, boy. I am leaving.” Mike pushes Rob’s hand away and stomps off, scattering the glasses on the table as he passes them by.

Saaransh places a shivering hand on my arm. Fuck. “Shh. I got you, babe.” Saaransh shivers in my arms. Head buried in my chest.

“I am so sorry, Blue.”

I take his face in my hands and lock our eyes. “His madness is not your fault.”

“But I instigated Mike.”

“No. The man is an idiot. He would have created a scene anyway.” I wipe the teardrops with kisses to his eyes. “Let’s go out for a bit.” Mike may create more drama, so I walk Saaransh to the patio while Rob and Matt deal with the situation. Eddy and James follow them out to ensure things don’t go out of hand.

“Here, drink some water.” Sarah hands Saaransh the glass and put a plate of snacks on the table. She nudges my shoulder and leaves us alone, closing the door to the kitchen.

“I should tell you about Mike.”

A lump forms in my throat. When I open my mouth, Saaransh places his fingers on my lips. “Only if speaking about Mike does not cause you more pain.”

My heart melts at the kindness in this man. He has every right to demand an explanation, but he is giving me a way out. I must be stronger and share those chapters with him. Over the next few minutes, I narrate the sordid details of my life with Mike. With every incident I share, Saaransh’s grip on my hand becomes tighter. When I finish, Saaransh tilts my face toward him and leans to plant a kiss on the bridge of my nose. He rubs his lips around the deformed bone, caressing it. The tender gesture slides me one more step toward Saaransh.

A knock on the door forces us apart. Damian steps out. He signs to ask Saaransh if things have settled. Saaransh signs ‘Okay’. Matt, Rob, and Sarah follow with beer cans for everyone. Matt offers one to Saaransh, but he refuses. “I’m driving.”

“Are you sure? You can go tomorrow.” Rob places his hand on my arm.

“And miss out on a day with Brendon? No way.” Saaransh’s eyes shine in the fading sunlight.