Natasha

Life became more or less the same after that. A few episodes of joy followed by a few more episodes of sorrows. It was a bittersweet routine. I messaged Rithik a few times, only to be received by a one-word response or none at all. Guess he was determined to cut me off for real this time. Then again, I brought this upon myself so it wasn't like I could rant about it. With him completely giving up, I found it difficult to hold on to a slipping rope. My vow of claiming him back was staring at me in mockery. My optimism grew thin. I recalled Rithik's words when he struggled to do the exact same.

I'm tired, Natasha. I've been holding onto you, holding onto us for far too long and you just want to throw it all away.

One day you'll regret it. You'll regret leaving me but I won't be around to take you back. Remember that.

Indeed he wasn't around to hold me this time. I've taken him for granted for far too long. I didn't want to, but I did. These thoughts often gnawed at me like a thorn under the sack. It filled my chest with anxiety and I wasn't sure how long I could hold on. It was easier to give up.

Except my heart wouldn't let me. Atleast not completely. Another month passed like passing seasons.

~~~

“Just focus on yourself now,” Kylie advised me one day. “You told him you would, before getting back with him, right? Then focus on that part now. Live in the present. Think about the rest of the stuff later."

I'm not breaking up! I'm just taking some time apart in order to secure a future with you.

“Yeah, easier said than done,” I said, my tone clipped. I leaned onto the pillow of the sofa, closing my eyes momentarily. Now I did say I'd work on my shit, clean my mess and gain some self-confidence. However, a bigger question lay sneering before me-

Where do I fucking start?

One couldn't just wave a magical wand and repair it into a brand new person overnight. Or sprinkle themselves with fancy prep-talk by famous orators and tell our fears to shove it in the arse. Been there. Done that. It got me nowhere.

“Does therapy really, really help though?” I found myself questioning after Kylie advised therapy as the jackass solution behind all tragedies. I've heard different stories from people on the internet. Some would sing praises on therapy, patching up the pieces of their lives, while some claimed it did little to nothing. That they were still messed up and clinically depressed. What if I go there, claw my vulnerable self out and still turn out hollow? What if I was hopeless beyond repair? Just thinking about it scared me shitless.

“While I do agree that therapy isn't a magical solution to all problems, it's still a good start. Besides, there's never a one stop solution for everything. It's just like someone losing weight. You can't expect to lose extra pounds with exercise alone. You need to change your diet, your sleep cycle and your lifestyle. Therapy works the same way. You'll need to do a number of things. In the end, it depends on you. Everything is possible with determination, as cheesy as it sounds.” She patted my shoulder, giving me a reassuring smile. “I know you Natasha. I know you can do it, too.”

I rolled my eyes. “Wish I had your confidence.”

Kylie shared the contact details of Dr. Ivy Jones- the therapist she often visited here. Ivy was a trauma- informed specialist and one of the best ones in the city with twelve years of clinical experience. Kylie was even ready to talk to the doctor on my behalf to offer a discount. The fees were still skyrocketing high though. She was ready to cover my fees, which I graciously refused. In the end, I told her I'd give it some serious thought.

Guess what happened? I didn't. By the end of the week, Kylie's patience grew thin as she insisted to make a call to the clinic. When I didn't, she offered me a second alternative.

“What if I took your session first?” I looked at her skeptically but she continued. “Now I'm not exactly an expert, but I can hold a decent session. Talk to me first. Deal?”

I snorted. “You sure are unusually persistent this time.”

“Because I want to help you, Natasha. Let me,” Kylie said, taking my hands into hers. Her gesture was cheesy as fuck but I still let her since she was cute with her pleading blue eyes. “Think as if you're talking to a friend, which you actually are. You know I never judged you and never will...” Her voice turned an octave deeper as she mimicked an older woman's voice, “This is a safe space.”

“Uh- huh, a very safe space with a security camera and digital lock.” I joked back and we guffawed together. I let out a smile, intertwining my fingers against hers. “Fine. Let's roleplay this shit.”

“Okay ahem,” Kylie cleared her throat. “Since I'm already aware of your basic details, we'll jump to the tacky parts. Tell me about your family and your relationship with each member, one by one. Yes, I already know about your background a little from what Rithik told me but I wanna hear it from your perspective. Your feelings.”

“Uh- huh! Going straight for the kill,” I teased, pretending to slice my neck with my hand but when Kylie's serious face didn't falter, I sighed in defeat. “Fine. I guess I'll tell you.”

Henceforth, I began talking about it. I talked about Mitali first since it was the easiest. I had a constant smile on my face as I chirped about the way my little sister looked after me and cared for me. I also helped her with her studies. Our little banter, our shopping days, our shared laughs. Just talking about her filled me with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Although I nearly stopped speaking after I recited the times Mitali tried to shield me away from my parents' wrath and also looked after my bruises later on. Then, there was a pause. A long, dreadful pause.

“What happened?”

“She also saved me...” My voice was so quiet that the air around us spoke louder. When she inquired again, I dropped the bomb, despite the erratic beating of my heart. “from jumping off the terrace...”

I didn't need to look. I could feel her harrowing gaze burning from the corner of my eye. I gulped. Silence followed. Then another.

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Okay then, moving on to my Ma ka laadla beta (Mumma's boy), Sahil—”

“Do you still think about it?” Kylie's voice was soft, yet it sliced through my words like a static. I flinched.

“No, not really. Not anymore,” I answered quickly. Then after a pause, I added cautiously while fidgeting with my fingers. “Though I do think about how worthless life is at times. How it's just an endless pit of crap yet we still try to hold onto it like it's the world's precious gift. Gift? My foot... Aree, why are you laughing?”

“Nothing. I'm just glad you're talking.” Kylie continued to chuckle some more, placing a hand over her mouth until she stopped to look at me. “Honestly, everyone thinks that way at some point of time. It's not unusual... Ah, sorry, this is more about you than the rest of the world. Go on, talk about your brother. How do you feel about him?”

I blinked, bewildered. “You really are acting like a therapist. Perhaps you should open a side business.”

I began ranting about my brother who was unreadable. I didn't get the impression Sahil hated me, but he wouldn't go out of his way either. He just didn't give a fuck. And I bet he didn't give much fucks for anyone else in the family either, including our mother who doted on him. He would often roam around the city with his boy friends or play cricket. He even went on group trips sometimes. Or atleast that's what he told us. I've rarely ever seen his so-called 'friends'. He could be involved in shady ass things or have a bimbo girl for all we know. It was as if he built a small world of his own, away from our family.

However I did remember Sahil's words when I was finalized to go to Boston. “Good for you, sis! Good for you. Perhaps you should take a permanent residence there and never come back.”

To this day, I couldn't understand whether Sahil said that out of goodwill or malice. I didn't waste another second shitting over it so I moved onto the next candidate- Mister Ashish Patil, my father. Like Sahil he was unreadable, too. More like bipolar. At times, he would behave like a parent should. Probably. He'd call me once a week to know how I was doing and tell me to take care of myself. He'd even ask if I needed extra money. At rare times, the conversations would move on to other mundane things like sports or news. It made me happy.

But then, he also held the power to crush that happiness within seconds, reminding me why it was temporary. He stopped hitting and punching me for quite sometime. However he compensated for that by slapping me with words, often spitting how disappointing and shameless I was. That it must have been their bad karma to bear a daughter like me. Perhaps I should say the same for both of you.

“I recall when Pa beat me with a belt once in my eighth grade, just because I corrected him on his mistake. That shit... it terrified me. I couldn't sit properly for days. I never corrected him again, of course,” There was a tremor in my voice as I said this. My fingers absentmindedly rubbed above my elbow, nearly hugging myself as I shook from within. I continued. “Then another day, he hit me with a belt again. I begged him not to. Please use your hands. Hands chalega- I pleaded. Haha, what was I, a masochist? Th- though it oddly worked since he didn't hit me with a belt ever again.”

Kylie looked stunned, like I was an alien, speaking in an unintelligible language. I squirmed. Shit, did I say too much? I didn't even speak to Abhi about this. How I was finding the courage to share these things again? For some reason, I couldn't stop. It was like tearing open an over-filled can, not knowing how to close it without spilling out its contents. Wasn't it ill to speak about your parents outside? I should have kept my hoè mouth shut. I should have...

“Are you sure they are your parents? Who the hell does that, Nat? It's... It's...” Kylie broke the silence, disbelief dripping in every word. I glanced her way to see her hand balled into fists. Her teary eyes filled with anger... for me? But why? Before I could respond, she encased me into her soft, shaky arms with my head nestled above her chest. Her peach scent spread like a gentle breeze.  It felt weird to be pitied like this by someone other than Abhishek, Rithik or Mitali. For once, I let myself be since she smelled nice.

“You have yet to hear about the disaster of my mother,” I spoke, letting out a dry laugh as we parted. “I think your sensitive soul might faint so maybe, I'll spare you from my sob 온라인카지노게임.”

“No, I won't. Please tell me.” Kylie said, looking me dead in the eye. Talk about the epitome of determination.

I swallowed my dry throat. Truthfully, I didn't want to talk about my mother. Let's be real, she wasn't a great martyr you'd sing praises about. That's when it struck me- She hurt me the most. She hurt me in ways I didn't know if I could ever recover from. Recover from my pent-up desire for a motherly love. What was it like to be loved by a mother? To be embraced by her, to be friends with her, to chat with her. I envisioned it all, but alas, my mother's face couldn't fit in there. There was only one face rampant in her since time immemorial- her angry face. She appeared no less than a monster in front of my eyes. It put me on a chokehold. I was already becoming short of air as I described some of the events.

“That's horrible...” Kylie found, her face crestfallen after I told her. She tightened her grip on my clammy hand. “Mrs. Patil sounds like an unstable person. Someone who's probably sick of her marriage or life in general. Instead of addressing whatever is bothering her, she unleashed it all on you instead. Still no excuse for what she's done. Abusers like her easily rot up in jail here.”

As Kylie said this, a mundane flashback slipped through my memories. Flashback of my eight- year- old self, witnessing my mom in a green saree. She was working tirelessly in the kitchen with beads of sweat trailing down her forehead. She was preparing lunch for my father's relatives, who were busy guffawing in the living room. One look and you could tell how aggravated she was with the way she shot daggers at the poor food as she kneaded the flour with more force than necessary. She kept muttering curses under her breath about how she was cooped up, working day and night in the kitchen for her stupid husband and her stupid family. How she wished she hadn't married. I recalled how Ma grabbed a fistful of my hair abruptly, telling me to loiter somewhere else. I ended up crying, only for Papa to scoop me in my arms and scold Ma. The look she shot me back then had my blood run cold. As if I snatched away the last remaining piece of her sanity.

“Hey, Nat. You good?” Kylie snapped me out of my reverie with a tap on my shoulder. It was like I was lost a thousand miles away. I nodded feebly, though it didn't help how I was feeling lightheaded. Still, it was hella strange how I recalled this just now. Obviously my younger self was oblivious to such things but now at the age of twenty- four, I could see the cracks beneath the surface. I wondered how my father was as a husband. I've never seen him beat my mother though, so maybe not as shitty. I joined my palms together.

“What's your worst moment with your mother?” Kylie asked a bit later on. She clicked her tongue in disbelief. “I don't even feel like sticking that word to someone like her. No offense.”

“None taken. That bitch doesn't deserve that word, atleast for me. My worst memory with her, huh...” I trailed off, rubbing my neck. I already knew the answer, though it required a shitload of courage to throw it past my heavy chest. My heart pounded. My pulse quickened. I took a deep breath. Calm down, you can do this. “Undoubtedly the night when she found out about Tejas.”

“Who's that?”

I stared at the ceiling, numb. “A scumbag who also deserves to rot in bars.”

Henceforth, I told Kylie about my so- called physics tuition teacher and how I attended his classes right till the moment when his sister Diksha called my parents. It seemed like someone sucked all the oxygen away as my lips parted for air. I had to place a hand over my rapid heartbeat. As if the nightmare was happening right in this room. But I'm just talking, I corrected my lame-ass self.

“Are you okay?” Kylie's voice called out to me like a distant alarm, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Of course! Why wouldn't I be?” I retorted, my voice rising an octave higher. I drew out another shaky breath. “Ah, so where was Iii?! Yeah, those foolish parents of mine dragged me out of the building like a toy. Those fuckers could barely wait to reach home and beat the fuckin' shit out of me!! Theyy...”

It never registered when my words started to slur. Or when I ate some. I gripped my arms around myself, recounting every lash and slap on my skin from that horrible day. I flinched at their words and hands full of venom. The harrowing cries ringing loud in my ears even to this day. My cries. I recalled how I mentally prayed to God to kill me. To free me from this never-ending torment. Alas, even he fell deaf to my pleas.

Panic rose to my chest like a punch in the gut. My body was physically here but mentally there. Before long, I was breathing, and choking all at once. Kylie's voice called out to me repeatedly like an echo. At one point, I had it. I lost my shit. I rushed to the washroom, holding my arms against the sink, choking out loud. As if I could taste the iron in my tongue. That smell, that burn. That blood. Despicable gagging noises escaped my throat as I bent my back onto the sink while blinking my teary rimmed eyes. Nothing came out except air.

But I hadn't even gotten to my worst memory yet.

It took a while for my trashy self to come back to her senses. Kylie helped through it all, giving me water with an anxiety medicine, rubbing my back while mumbling 'sorry' in between. I was angry. Angry for being a weak puss. Angry for getting affected by something that happened several years ago. Angry for not being able to function like a damn adult.

“I can't do it, I can't do this, Kylie! It's impossible. There's no healing for me. I'm fucked up beyond repair...” I cried between my breaths, sinking my head between my arms in shame. She forced me to undo my arms but I pushed her away, not wanting to be pitied or comforted right now.

“Natasha, listen to me. What you did today was incredibly brave. You should know that— No, listen to me!” She raised her voice, holding my tired shoulders and I peeked behind the gaps of my hair. “You confided in me. You told me many things you wouldn't normally vocalize, right? That's great. You took the first step. You stepped up and that's what matters. Not how it turned out.”

“Kylie...” I sobbed as more tears fell.

She gently took me in her arms. “I understand how you feel, dearie. Not entirely, but I know. I've been in the same place as you after all.”

~~~

Sometime later, I was lying down on the sofa curled up on Kylie's lap while she caressed the tresses of my hair. Our gazes were set on the Netflix show in front, though our minds were far from it. Her touch was soothing like someone nursing a wounded cat. I blinked my heavy eyelids, letting a yawn.

“Imagine you're cleaning an incredibly messy room. It's full of years worth of cobwebs, dust, insects and clothes. Wouldn't it be difficult cleaning it?”

“Very. I'd be lazy to start it in the first place. Imagine cleaning all that shit up, then painting the wall beige followed by a bedsheet—”

“No, make that pink.”

“I'm sick of your pink!”

We shared a laugh at that. Kylie seized that moment to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, smiling down at me. “Healing works the same way, dearie. It's not sunshine and rainbows as people think it is. Not at first. It's not a linear path either. What happened to you today was you unlocking that door and getting shocked at how disoriented your room was. You knew that, but you were too afraid to step there. Until today. Honestly, it was my fault for asking you a brutal question straight off the bat. It triggered you. Therapists don't work that way. I'm not a professional. Only they can work through your traumas... I'm sorry Nat, I'm sorry.”

“Come on, Kelly.”

“So please consider my recommendation,” She finished, her blue eyes staring dead into mine, as if peering into my crippled soul. “You need it. You know you do.”

I averted my eyes at once, staring at the TV screen that showed a bunch of chicks laughing their farts out. “Hmm, maybe I'll take the demo session first...”

“That's my girlie.”

I continued to lay down Kylie's lap-- her warm hand on my head, seeping through me like a quiet lullaby. I blinked my eyelids, my body growing weary from all that breakdown. I slept in Kylie's bedroom that night. It was oddly peaceful, despite the nightmare I had that woke us up in the middle of the night. I thought I was done for the night until Kylie patted my head, lying beside me. Perhaps this was how it felt like to be comforted by a mother. Almost. She just exhibited that motherly vibe sometimes. Of course I wouldn't tell her. That'd be creepy. Instead, I thanked her before closing my eyelids for the night.

* * * * * * * *

Hope it wasn't boring, even though it was mostly a conversation between two friends. A deeper dive into Natasha's family, her psyche and Kylie aiding her. What are your thoughts? Comment below.

PS- There's a surprise by the END of the next chapter. Something which I'd been patiently waiting for since Ages! Any wild guesses? Anyway, next chapter is an important one. Teaser- It involves a professional therapist (no, that's not what the surprise is about). I might lose my patience and upload it faster lol. Look forward. 😏