Page 16

Fifteen. The end of the road

Elias

“ Y ou’re thinking too loudly,” she groans and pinches my side.

“Whoa.” I pretend to shift away, but she has a death grip on my T-shirt.

Smiling, I kiss the top of her head and attempt to focus on the television. We’re watching Ted Lasso . It’s one of her many comfort shows, and work has been stressful so she needed a break. I don’t even want to know how many times she’s seen these episodes, but every now and then her mouth moves as she recites the lines. It’s cute.

Not a word I would use to describe Vera. Sexy, perfect, beautiful, sensational, ethereal are more suitable. But in the past few weeks we’ve leaned into our benefits , she’s been fucking cute. Her nose twitches while she’s working at her dining table or playing with her hair during a brainstorming session or when she’s attempting to cook and her hips sway without any music present—she’s adorable .

I, on the other hand, am doing my best not to get carried away with my feelings. Eventually this will end and everything will go back to the way it was. I know the right thing to do is to prepare myself for when that happens, so it hurts less. But I can’t. We don’t talk about it either.

Whenever I’m in Chennai, we spend all of our time in her apartment and ignore the world. It’s better than going out somewhere and being photographed again. The times I’m travelling with the team, we text as often as possible. Vera’s schedule is wildly unpredictable, so I’ve accepted she might only reply to my messages hours later. The right thing to do is to not text constantly, but I have to tell someone.

A heavy sigh moves through me and her head pops up, forehead wrinkled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tired, that’s all.”

She doesn’t believe me and I don’t blame her, it wasn’t a very convincing lie. I try to smile, but fail at that as well. As always, my thoughts are fixed on my failures. Between struggling through healing, not being able to play cricket for close to a year and being an average human for this fantastic specimen of a person, I’m at max capacity for pity parties. But it’s hard to turn those parts of my brain off. I know better than to say it out loud, because I’ll get another lecture.

“ Elias .” She puts so much emphasis on my name, I can’t hide the wince.

“I’m okay, peaches. I swear.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

I chuckle. “That’s a good thing, right?” Her stare is unrelenting and I sigh. “Thinking about PT. Dr. Theo promised a gruelling session today and I am not looking forward to it.”

“Think of all the positives, though. Maybe this will be the day everything changes.”

Her faith in me is what keeps me going. If Vera thinks everything will work out, I believe it will. So I nod, making sure my smile is genuine. She cradles my face and searches my eyes before kissing me. It’s a quick, soft peck, but enough to erase the panic in my head. When she pulls back, I can see concern in her gaze, but she doesn’t say anything. She settles against me, engrossed in the goings-on of AFC Richmond.

I stare at the screen, but my brain is replaying my conversation with Coach Kumaran yesterday. As the batting coach for the Renegades, he’s the one I work with the most. He’s also a coach for the Indian team, so we know each other pretty well. And yet, I couldn’t decipher his mood when he pulled me aside after the Hyderabad match. It was an absolute shitshow and losing was an embarrassment. Nobody in the Renegades locker room said that, but the commentators and sports pundits didn’t hold back.

“How’s the shoulder?”

“Much better. Dr. Theo said I should be able to play soon.”

He didn’t say that, but I want to put in a good word for myself. If anybody can get me back on the field, it’s Kumaran and I need his absolute trust in me right now.

“Good. I’ll set up a meeting tomorrow to review your recovery and make a decision.”

“About me playing?” Optimism built in my chest, bursting into tiny shards when he spoke.

“Don’t get your hopes up. There’s no guarantee you’ll see playing time this season.”

I didn’t tell Vera when I got to her place last night. I didn’t even allow myself to think about it for twelve hours because I’m trying to manifest only good things. But accepting my fate is important and I fucking hate it.

Her mood has improved thanks to Ted Lasso , so now we’re sitting at two ends of the couch doing our own thing. Vera’s frowning at her laptop as she attacks the keyboard while I’m watching highlights from the game this afternoon—Mumbai Legends versus Kolkata Masters—to see what kind of new plays both teams have implemented. Even if I’m not going to play this season, it’s good to know what to expect.

Especially since Vera took her ‘minimal benefits’ deal very seriously and won’t let me do anything more than cuddle her in bed.

I’m not a sex addict, but I am a Vera addict and going without the taste of her skin or the feeling of her pussy clenching around me has been hard. Pun intended . Even though she’s not the biggest fan of constant touching or being held, she’s made adjustments for me. But when she gets tired of it, she’s quite vocal. On the flip side, we’ve been doing a lot of other things together.

The friends part of our deal is reigning supreme and it’s been fun. She told me about growing up with her cousin, Tamara, and her sweet tooth extends to inhaling an entire pint of ice cream in one sitting. We’ve talked about our siblings some more, sharing anecdotes from our respective childhoods and what it was like to grow up with overbearing grandparents. She taught me how to play Rummy and I attempted to teach her poker, but that was a disaster. We’ve even cooked together, experimenting with a Malayali recipe book she inherited from her mother.

Everything’s changed and I am very worried for myself when it’s gone.

“What are your plans for the weekend?” I ask, setting my laptop aside so I can stand up and stretch.

“Ugh.” She also stretches, her large T-shirt riding up her bare thighs. “Couple of meetings in the morning, then driving up to Pondy? 1 for the night.”

What the … “What’s happening in Pondy?”

She flashes me an awkward smile and sits up. “I meant to tell you and totally forgot. There’s a conference I’m invited to speak at tomorrow afternoon. I’ll stay the night and drive back on Sunday.”

I rotate my shoulder slowly. The usual twinge that accompanies the move is gone and my arm feels strong and sturdy. “That’s pretty cool. What’s the conference about?”

While I’m upset I can’t go with her, I listen as she tells me about a college inviting her to speak on a panel about building a business. Given all the research I’ve done and conversations we’ve had about Lucky Shot, those students are fucking lucky to have her speak to them about how to plan their futures.

“Maybe we can get dinner when you’re back? You can tell me all about how it went,” I offer.

“Don’t you have a match on Sunday?”

Shrugging, I sit down beside her. “I’ll find a way to sneak out.”

“You most certainly will not.” She shakes her head and I sigh. “We can do dessert when you get here after.”

“Fine.”

Vera pokes me in the side and I laugh, grabbing her wrist to stop further attacks. She tucks herself into my side and rattles off dinner options, but I’m not listening. I’ll eat sand if it means being with her. Pathetic, I know .

I’m up before she is and despite her attempts to tug me back into bed, I kiss her forehead and leave. I thought I’d have a few hours before we had to part for the weekend, but Coach Kumaran called to let me know I need to be at Navalur much earlier. Knowing I won’t see her until Sunday night wears on me as Kuriakose drives me to the practice grounds. I don’t know why the Renegades management puts me through this, because if I’m not playing, I can get more rest. Isn’t that what they want from me anyway?

I’m forced to sit through game tape with the team and a full breakdown of what went wrong at the Hyderabad match. They spend an hour strategising the Sunday game against the Punjab Royals and insist I stay. Only after do I get a minute to myself and I pull my phone out as I head to the medical room. I don’t know what Dr. Theo’s going to put me through or what this meeting with Kumaran might be about, but I refuse to get my hopes up.

Have fun in Pondy.

Drive safe.

The two medical assistants are busy when I walk into the room, they offer me nervous smiles and get back to their work. I strip off my T-shirt, already aware of the process during these sessions and settle on the table as my phone buzzes.

Peaches

Moulding the minds of the future will be SO much fun.

Hope your PT is good and you’ll have the best news for me tomorrow!

Don’t jinx it.

Peaches

The door swings open and Dr. Theo walks in, grinning at the folder in his hands. From here, I can see my name printed along the tab on the side and I sit up straighter.

“I hope that means good news.”

Dr. Theo startles and laughs awkwardly. “Elias. Didn’t see you there.”

It’s tense in the room and I force a smile because that’s what everyone else is doing. An assistant comes over to take my shirt and phone as Dr. Theo pulls on his gloves. My heart is racing, because something tells me they’re about to deliver not so good news. Once everything is prepped, the doctor examines my shoulder—poking, prodding, twisting, pinching, rubbing and rotating—until he’s satisfied with what he feels. The first few times he did this after my surgery, I would end the session in tears. He’s not doing it to hurt me, but holy fuck it was excruciating. Now I glower at him because the pain comes from him poking me. When he’s done, he laughs at my expressions and gestures for his assistant to add the cool ointment. They massage it into my shoulder, taking their time pressing every inch of skin around the scar.

“How’s the day-to-day pain?”

“Haven’t experienced any more spasms recently.”

He watches me with an arched eyebrow, so I rotate my arm both ways and twist it until he’s happy. He makes a note of it in my folder that’s so thick, it’s bursting at the seams.

“Mobility seems good. Let’s do a scan,” he tells his assistants and they bring the portable x-ray machine over. I’ve been doing this once a month for the last year, so I close my eyes and let them move me around to do what needs to be done.

“What do you think, Doc? Playing this season or not?”

Dr. Theo laughs, sheepish like always, and shrugs as he examines the screen with my scan results. He’s damn good at what he does, but the older gentleman also gets nervous when I put him on the spot like this. And I’ve been asking him the same question since the beginning. When I missed the World Cup, he kept apologising but it wasn’t his fault. This injury was entirely on me and everything that followed is only in my hands. He knows how desperately I want to get back on the pitch, how much the team needs me back. But there’s only so much he can do.

“Do you think you’re ready to play, Elias?”

“Obviously. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

“You haven’t practised in six months,” he reminds me and I sigh.

“Because you wouldn’t let me leave this room.”

“Because you were healing.”

I pull my T-shirt on. “A few hours of practice and I can play tomorrow without an issue.”

“You know, you never answered my question from last year.”

“What question?” I ask and the doctor rolls his stool over, gentle smile on his lips.

“What would happen if you could never play cricket again.”

My heart drops to my stomach, because I don’t remember us ever having this conversation. Granted, I was angry and in pain for the first few weeks after my surgery, so there’s a lot that didn’t register. The question also reminds me of the way I’ve been feeling since I met Vera—not good enough. I have nothing to offer outside of cricket and I don’t think anybody else understands that.

I don’t have any other skills and while I could learn them quickly and work behind a desk, that’s not what I’m destined for. Even coaching doesn’t appeal to me. Playing is what I’ve always wanted to do. If I can’t do this, I probably want nothing to do with the sport. Vera tells me, very often, that I’m so much more than just an athlete. I’m nothing without the sport and admitting it out loud is frustrating.

As is being told I might never play again.

“Never given it any thought,” I admit, refusing to look at him.

“I’m not saying this is the end of the road for you, but it’s always good to consider a back-up career.”

I shake my head, a burning sensation pricking at the back of my eyes. Who am I without cricket? Blinking furiously, I say, “I’ve got a few more years in me. I’m not going to start thinking about that future until I absolutely have to.”

That might happen sooner rather than later .

Dr. Theo is silent for a long time and I can feel his gaze, like he’s assessing me. I don’t like it. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin and I fidget on the table, hoping this conversation can be over soon. I remember what Vera said— Go out there and take what’s yours —and grip the edge, and her words, as I breathe through the panic building in my chest.

“For my sake, Elias, please thi—” Dr. Theo’s cut off when the door swings open and his assistant appears breathless. “What’s wrong?”

“Coach Kumaran is waiting. Apparently he sent an email about the meeting time being changed.”

I check my phone and don’t find anything, but know better than to get irritated about it. As we leave the room, I count backwards to calm myself down. This meeting could be the end of my career or it could be the conversation that changes everything. I open up my chat with Vera and wait until my hands aren’t shaking so I can type.

Heading into a meeting with the management.

My fate now rests entirely in their hands and this is fucking terrifying.

Cross your fingers for me.

The elevator dings and I turn off my phone, pocket it and follow Dr. Theo to the conference room. Six people are waiting for me—Mr. Jaishankar, the head coach, Kumaran and three other senior management people I’ve met only once or twice. None of them smile; they stare and my heart is racing so hard, I’m afraid it’ll collapse any minute.

“I believe in you, superstar.”