Chapter Twenty-Five

Babita’s Babble

BRENDON

 

“Hold your horses, mate.” I stomp down the stairs, making sure the person outside hears them—the bell chimes for the fifth time.

“Hey, at least give me time to put on some clothes.” I turn the knob and jerk the door open. The sudden movement scares the chubby all of five-foot girl wearing an Indian dress standing on the porch.

She extends her hand. “Hi, Brendon. My name is Babita. I am Saaransh’s cousin.”

Weird. After five weeks of radio silence, Saaransh’s sis is at my doorstep. “I don’t remember Saaransh ever mentioning a cousin living in Australia.” I peek around to check for any sign of Shy.

The girl shifts on her feet. “No, I came from India.”

“To meet me.”

She rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Gah.” She throws her hands in the air. “Why else would I sneak my name on a college Zoology tour to Australia? I am a botanist and have no interest in how kangaroos procreate.”

I smirk but don’t budge.

“Please, can I come in?” She looks at the road one more time, checking something, and turns to me. “Can we talk somewhere private? I can’t discuss things standing here at your door.”

The ghosting by Saaransh still hurts, and I am not going to let her walk all over me. “Why should I let you in?”

She shakes her head and mumbles something.

“Beg your pardon? If you want to say something to me, you got to be louder.”

“Brachychiton rupestris.”

“Come again? You need to speak in English.”

This time she frowns. “The bottle tree in your garden. Brachychiton rupestris is the scientific name.”

She’s got to be kidding me. “You here to talk about trees?”

“Duh.” More eye rolls but this time, she crosses her arms. “I am here to talk about two humans who are behaving like a bottle tree.” She points to the treeline in front of my house. “Stuck to their ground. Too stubborn to sort things out. There is a reason we humans developed language and phones.”

She stands a foot on the door, glaring at me. “Let me inside. We need to solve your standoff.” Oh, boy, Saaransh never warned me about this firecracker.

“You may come in, but I can’t guarantee I will be of any help to you.” I step aside and direct her to the living room. “Can I offer you a drink—a beer, canned juice, or water?”

She waves me off. “No formalities, please. I am only here to talk.”

I guide her to the couch and take a seat across on the recliner. “Shoot. What got you here?”

“Brendon, you need to help Saaransh save himself.”

She is a straight shooter. Her eyes plead, but I am not falling for this crap. “Why? The last I heard; he wants nothing to do with me. Did you read the statement he released? Why should I bother? I am fed up with this duality.” My frustration poisons my words. Babita flinches. Shit, I am sending the wrong message. “Trust me, I don’t regret a moment I spent with Saaransh, but I can’t take another rejection. I am proud and out and will not walk into the closet for him.”

Babita gets combative. “Is he to blame for everything?” She doesn’t say it, but I understand her accusation. Her words further irritate me. The bile rises and sours the mood.

“What do you expect from me?” She flinches at my shrill voice. I raise my hands with palms facing her—an offer of peace.

“I tried.” Rubbing my eyebrows and pinching the nose bridge does not ease the irritation. “Called Saaransh up several times. When he did not respond, I texted him. Begged him to talk to me till he quashed all my hopes with the press statement. How can he believe I would drug him?” She keeps staring at me. Once the venom inside me is all spent, I realize I am messing things again. If she is here on Saaransh’s behalf, this is my only chance. She can convey my message to him.

“Mike, my ex leaked those videos and pics. He hired someone to film us when we were at the cabin. Before I got a hang on the situation, Saaransh left. He should have at least talked to me.”

Babita sighs. “I am not aware of what happened here before Saaransh left, but Brendon, Saaransh is hurting for you. He has shut himself off from the world. He spends all his time on the badminton courts, drowning himself in those shots. He is an empty shell, a ghost.” She moves forward in her seat, “Brendon, you are the only one who can rekindle life into him.”

“You are asking too much. I tried my best to contact Saaransh, but he ghosted me. I cannot help you.”

Babita stays mum for a while, fidgeting with her dress. “Do you know the reason he left in a rush? They forced his hand.”

“What do you mean? Who forced his hand?”

“The Badminton Association threatened to cut Saaransh off from playing. They threatened to withdraw all funding, access, and even the chance to represent India. Badminton is the soul of Saaransh. They asked him to choose badminton over you.”

“What? How can they force him? Why did he not tell me about this? He should file a court case or escalate the matter to the international authorities.” I stand, balling my fists, ready to punch all the fuckers messing up our lives.

Babita shakes her head. “Brendon, the hierarchy and politics in Indian sports are too steep to climb. You have gone through this phase of coming out and survived at the top level in rugby. You can help Saaransh. I tried to talk sense into him, but he is adamant. Not ready to find a solution to this situation.”

I shake my head and turn away from Babita, hoping to hide my hurt. “How will my intervention change his mind? He values badminton over me.”

Babita grabs my arm. “I am not sure if I should tell you this, but Saaransh is scared of hurting you. He carries the guilt of pushing you away in London and whatever happened here. He says he can’t give you what you deserve. He has convinced himself that he is not worthy for you.”

“Why?”

“Beyond the 800-square-feet badminton court, he never fights.” Babita’s eyes are moist. “Saaransh did not give up on you, Brendon. He gave up on himself. You are the air he breathes, and if you don’t do something, Saaransh will wilt away.”

This is too much to process. Demons of my past rear their heads again. “How do you explain the drug charge?”

“The association dictated the statement. Saaransh signed the paper under duress. Please believe me, Brendon.”

“Babita, what do you want me to do? Saaransh will not speak to me.”

Babita wipes her tears. “I can understand. I have no clue what you can do, but if anyone can help Saaransh, it is you. Brendon, there are no role models for Saaransh in India. Not a single sportsperson is out and proud.”

She pauses for a moment, clearing her throat between sobs. “If Karan had not found Saaransh…” Babita doesn’t finish. She gulps down the lump in her throat. “We may not be lucky next time.” She breaks down and covers her face with her hands.

“What? What did Saaransh do?” I put my hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes are red. Tears roll down.

“Saaransh tried to kill himself.” Her answer hacks through my heart. “The association forced him to choose between the two loves of his life.”

*

Legs crossed, I can’t stop my foot from its continuous tapping. I try to distract myself as I sip the coffee, listening to the rhythm of the rain accompanying the piano being played in the lounge. Seated in perfect line of sight of the path from the hotel entrance through the lobby to the lifts, I recheck my watch; Saaransh should be here by now. My fingers begin their drum roll on the cup.

If things go according to plan, I hope to spend every minute cuddled with Saaransh before his first match. The flicker of joy at the sight of Saaransh entering the hotel dies on one glimpse of his face. The usual light shining in his eyes is gone. Shoulders drooping, dark circles around the eyes, he walks to the reception, listless. I hold myself from rushing and wrapping Saaransh in my arms. Patience, Bree. Too many badminton officials here.

Once Saaransh takes the elevator to his floor, I follow behind to take the next one. I managed a room on the same floor designated for the players. When I get off the elevator, I make sure the corridor is empty before I knock on room 504. The door opens after a minute. Saaransh stands before me, his eyes wide with terror. “Blue!”

“You are not the only one who needs to add frequent flyer miles.” I push myself inside, close the door, and gather him in my arms. “I missed you, Shy. Why are you avoiding me?”

Saaransh is stiff at first but relaxes as I stroke his back. He buries his head on my neck. “I am sorry, Blue. I missed you so much.” Saaransh moves his arms, squeezing me, and cries. My heart aches at his sobs, but I let him vent out the pent-up sorrow, holding him tight. After a while, he pushes me. Face buried in his hands, Saaransh turns away from me. “You should leave, Blue. You are better off without me.”

I take a step closer to him and place my hand on his shoulder. “Let me decide what is right or wrong for me. Let me be your shield against the world. I am here to fight for you, Shy, and I am not leaving until we agree on us.”

Saaransh turns around, eyes moist. “We can’t be together, Blue. I can’t give you what you want.” He bows his head, wiping his eyes with the ball of his thumbs.

“What if you are all I want?” I lift his head with my thumb and peck his forehead.

“You cannot see these barbed wires around me, Blue. I won’t become the next Mike in your life. A person who only takes and never gives. The reason for more pain. These invisible shackles will hurt you.”

I catch the wave of his hair on the forehead and move them away from his eye. “How do you suppose I will let go of a man who cares about me more than himself?”

“Why do you want to burden yourself with my baggage?” Saaransh lowers his head and walks to the bed. “I am not worth all this trouble.”

His words hurt, but at least there is hope for me. He does not blame me for the incidents after our time at the cottage. I sit on his bed and urge him to sit beside me. He stands near me. I hold him around the waist. “You are not the trouble, Shy. I am the trouble—the cause of your misery and suffering. If you had not met me, none of this would happen. I should be the one to...” Saaransh places his hands on my lips and stops me midway.

He shakes his head. “You gave me what no one could, the moments of joy being my true self. Perhaps those few days are the only ones written in my destiny. I will cherish them for the rest of my life.”

I kiss his hand and place the palm on my cheeks. “We can make more happy memories, Shy. If you give us a chance?”

Saaransh removes his hands from my face. He stares at me for a while, searching my eyes before he speaks. “It is not possible. The association is adamant—I must stay away from you. Their first and only condition to allow me to play. Without a full-time job, I depend on them and the meager sponsorship to travel and play these tournaments. Badminton is my love.”

Never did I imagine competing with a sporting racket for someone’s attention. “We will find our way out of this. We will fight them. Come with me to Australia. We will do this together. You don’t need to worry about the money. You can stay with me. We will find sponsors for you in Australia.”

Saaransh shakes his head. “How will moving to Australia help? I still need the association for my credentials. Moving in with you will only raise their hackles. Your offer for the money is kind, but I can’t take your money. At least leave me with some dignity.”

“How can you give up on us? We can’t allow those officials to interfere in your personal life; they have no right. We will go to the international body and file a court case. You should fight this injustice. Come with me, Shy. Please.”

Saaransh walks away to the chair by the window, facing away from me. “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to fight, and whom all will we fight? My employer, the association, my family, or society in India? We can’t fight the world, Blue. Our circumstances are unique. Our cultures are unalike. Mike is correct; we don’t belong together.”

“To hell with Mike.” Saaransh flinches. Shit. I can’t let the bitterness of Mike poison our relationship further. “Listen, Mike won’t mess with us anymore. He is out of our lives forever. He can’t come near us. I have taken legal action to keep him away.”

Saaransh tilts his head backward and lets out a sigh. “Mike’s action maybe the result of a depraved jealous mind, but Blue, how do we move away from him and build something? You don’t know my past, and I don’t know yours. Sex is all we did together.”

Hell, he is not going to make this easy. “Do you regret what we had together?” I run my hand through my hair and try to calm my breathing. “Shy, I have no regrets. Not for a second. I don’t care what Mike does or what the Badminton Association says, I want you. But if you don’t…”

Saaransh rakes his fingers through his hair and fists them into a bunch. “No, Blue. I don’t regret a moment spent with you. But what will we do when monsters of the past crawl into our present?”

“I don’t have all the answers, Shy, and I don’t know the future. This heart.” I gather Saaransh’s hand and place it on my chest. “This beats for you, Shy. Be with me. I will help you work this shit out.”

Saaransh pulls away. “It won’t work, Brendon. I cannot drag you into my mess.”

“Shy, this is not fair. You are ready to give me up for badminton. For a sport that doesn’t respect you. For a country that doesn’t care about your happiness and for a society that despises you.”

Saaransh shakes his head. “You have a right to be upset. You should live a life you deserve, the way you want it, and with whom you desire. Don’t I have the same rights? Don’t I get to choose?”

The painful struggle on Saaransh’s face is reflected on the windowpane in front. He stares at the crimson light across the horizon. His back stiffens, eyes shut tight as he takes deep, controlled breaths. Subtle signs reminding me of the moments after his first set in the semi-final. The battle to convince him is lost. I brace to hear the verdict. He clears his throat and straightens his body.

“You should leave, Blue. I don’t want us to say things we will regret. Please let me live with fond memories of you. They are all I’ve got. Don’t take them away from me. Please go.” Saaransh’s voice is raw and strained.

“Shy, don’t do this.”

“How do we do this?” Saaransh waves his finger between us. “We can’t be seen together in public. We can’t hold hands or kiss. I want all those things for me. I want them for us. Right now, ‘us’ means the closet. How can I drag you inside? There is a whole life waiting for you. Blue, you deserve a happy forever. At least, let me do this for you.” Saaransh caresses my cheek. “Please, Blue, leave. Before we break each other.”

I stand there defeated, watching the tears in his eyes. I raise my hand to wipe them. Saaransh steps away and turns to face the window. My heart is about to implode. How can this man love me so much and yet push me away? He is hurting inside. My standing here will only increase his pain. “Shy. I will honor your wish, but I need a promise before I leave.”

Saaransh turns to face me, head bowed. I take a step closer and take his hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You will never try to take your life. Can you at least give me that?” I wait for his nod. After he agrees, I continue, “You are a beacon for all those people hiding in the closet in India. They are all watching you from behind the darkness. What message will your death give them? If you lose and give up, the door will only slam in their faces. They will never dare to come out. You are a shining star of hope for them. Become their sun, Shy. Be the giver of life and courage.”

A tear rolls down Saaransh’s cheeks. My hand moves in reflex to catch the precious drops. He holds my wrist, my fingers a few inches away from his face, shaking his head.

Bound to my chest, the stone of Saaransh’s silence drags me to the depths of despair simmering in his eyes. “When you have time, read this.” I take the envelope from my jacket and give it to Saaransh.