Page 3 of Rebound

My heart cracks at the realisation. It might seem like an extreme reaction to some, but after all the things we said to each other last year, this feels like abandonment. I know what it feels like to be left behind and I hate it. My grandparents, aunt and uncle, and cousins are still here, but it’s not the same as having Patrick. He made spending the summer away from Vera and her brothers bearable. He made trying new sports an exciting activity. He even helped me learn so much about myself.

And now he’s gone.

“I’ll try again in a few weeks, okay?”

I realise Coach Mathan’s trying to comfort me, but it’s pointless. With a nod, I leave the office and head to the girl’s dorm. Everyone’s been very aware of my mood this summer and they’ve stayed clear, which is not helpful given that this camp is also about teamwork and making friends. The only friend I wanted left me after making tons of promises and telling me he loved me. How can I trust that others won’t do it?

I pull my sketchbook out from under my mattress and flip it open to the page where I drew Patrick’s face. Drawing people is not my strong suit so it looks terrible. Give me nature and buildings, structures with straight lines and firm shapes, and I can do it. But the boy smiling up at me from the page is definitely the one I love. I rip the page out and carry it to the low fire outside and toss it in. I hate you, I say to myself as tears prick the back of my eyes. You broke your promise, I add and furiously wipe at my face before anyone can see me crying. You left me here alone, I yell inside my head when only ashes are left.

“I wish I could hate you,” I whisper before walking away. The tears don’t come anymore and I’m grateful. Since I promised to join the volleyball match, be the anchor in the swimming relay team and plan a birthday party for one of the junior campers.

Every romance novel has told me to never cry over boys.

One. We have nothing.

Tamara, May

Now

Am I breathing? It’s unclear at this point. I’m not sure if I want to punch the man or kiss him, and I don’t even know how I feel about him being here. Someone is guiding me into a bedroom and then I’m curling up on something soft. I can’t seem to get a grip on where I am or what’s happening. When air finally rattles in my chest, I force my eyes open and everything comes into focus.

Beach house. Mahabalipuram?1. Vera and Elias?2. A swimming pool. Beach cricket. Cute boys.

Hey, Lotus.

Patrick Joseph.

I suck in a large gulp of air and sit up, immediately noticing the concern on Vera’s face. She sits on the edge of the bed, still staring at me and I realise no words have come out of me in a while.

“Why is he here?”

“He’s Elias’s brother.”

“What the fuck.”

“I would have told you if I knew you two had history.”

“We have nothing.” I wave her off, aware that my hand is shaking. We had everything. Once. He fucking ruined that.

“He called you Lotus. I didn’t know other people called you that.”

“They don’t. He shouldn’t.”

After that summer, I never went back to camp. I refused to date Malayalis?3 and never introduced myself as Thaamara ever again. While Patrick used the English translation of my name, my Velliamma always used the Malayalam word. After she died, nobody ever called me either version. And now, there’s this boy—no, this man—calling me a nickname nobody else knows or uses. My heart threatens to cave in and I press a hand to my chest.

“Remember the sports camp Velliamma sent me to during the summer? I met him there. When he first asked me for my name, I said Thaamara and he called me Lotus and I loved it.” I loved him.

It’s been twenty something years and I haven’t thought about camp or summers with him in a long time. Except the day he joined the Indian field hockey team—his name and picture were headlines across sports sections of every newspaper. That was the first time I’d seen what the adult version of the boy I once loved looked like and I hated him all over again. He was beautiful as a teenager and he grew into everything as an adult. Now, ten years since then, he looks even better.

Oh, I still fucking hate him.

“I know he’s the brother of the man you love, but I’m not going to deal with him.”

“You do whatever you need to protect yourself. I support you.”

I squeeze my cousin’s hand. “Thank you for being my best friend, Vee.”

“I really didn’t have much choice, did I?”