Abhay

I got off my bike in front of the bungalow, which was what came to my mind when someone mentioned the word 'home', mentally preparing to play pretend family with my stepmother. Until I turned twenty-five, she was the caretaker of every rupee that was in my name. The will of my now-dead father, who apparently had zero trust in me to make the woman in charge of everything.

The smiling face of my father flashed in my mind, and I ignored the suffocating pain that came with it.

So here I stood, marking my attendance like a fucking criminal so she could know that I didn't run away.

The maid opened the door, a professional bun with a pencil skirt and a white shirt. A face I didn't recognize and it pissed me off.

I was suddenly overpowered by the sudden rush of relief and disappointment. Relief that the dreaded moment of change finally happened and disappointment because it did.

Even if I didn't consider this place home, my father did live here. Before he went and fucking died on me and left me to be the only male figure in Veer's life. Poor kid.

It wasn't a hidden fact that I was the worst influence to have on a six-year-old. These days the fact was slapped on my face too much for my liking. The pink kurti flashed in my mind before I tucked it away. One annoyance at a time.

"Good morning, sir! Mira ma'am is waiting for you in the dining hall."

I nodded and walked to my room. It was the same as the day I left it. The posters, the paint on the wall, and my trophies from childhood. The bed was also the same. Except if I opened the closets, it would've been empty. The walls, too, were bare of any pictures because I took them with me. I hadn't put it up on the walls of my new place. Looking at them was a task on its own.

I went to the washroom to freshen up. My stepmother had one rule: I came over on weekends to spend time with Veer. Apart from that, she never questioned how much money I was wasting or where I was wasting it. The fact stung a bit for some reason.

I walked down the stairs to the dining room, still in my jeans and t-shirt, and I could hear Veer's voice excitedly telling her something and her chiming in. Their conversation stopped when Veer saw me, jumped from his chair, and ran towards me with his toothiest smile in his Spiderman t-shirt. His smile always soothed the ache that came with coming to this place.

"Veer, let him sit down first." Mira's voice echoed through the walls. She was sitting at the table in her floral green shirt and trousers with her head in a sleek low bun. Not one hair was out of place. She had stopped smiling at me a long time ago.

The ten-year-old me had made her life hell when she married my father. She had tried so hard to be there for me after my father's death, but I wasn't the easiest person to deal with. Frequent unanswered calls and visits. Now, we had awkward silences where we didn't know how to talk to each other. Or maybe it was just me.

Family was such a tricky thing. It was easier staying away.

"Let's sit down. I want to tell you my secret." Veer's chubby fingers pulled me to the dining table.

"What secret?" I asked, pulling the chair and sitting down.

"I made a new friend. She's in my class." his eyes glowed.

"And why is that a secret?"

"Because no one knows yet. She shares her chocolates with me." The house help brought the food and served the rice and dal while Veer narrated his tale of secret friendship with the enthusiasm of a person who found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

"You changed the staff," I asked, picking up the spoon and scooping up some dal.

"Yes, I hired some new help." I nodded, not willing to ask the reason, nor did she offer. It's not like it was my home. But the stinging continued.

"How's college?"

"Good."

"Any problem?"

"No." The silence stretched between us for a while, the sound of spoons and plates the only available source of noise. For a moment, I contemplated bringing up the fight last week to see if she would react. If she heard about it. If she cared enough to ask. But I dropped the idea as soon as it sprang in my head. I was not a child.

"I'm learning painting," Veer exclaimed, and the rice in his spoon went flying.

"Veer, don't play with food."

"That's amazing. What did you learn to paint?" I asked, the conversation with Mr. Gupta, our lawyer, revolving in my mind. The fights needed to stop. He had said in a straight and sharp voice. Or I was going to lose it all.

He blabbered about his painting class at school, and my mind went to the painting I saw at Dhruv's.

"Would you teach me football after lunch?" He asked, munching on the cucumber. "I want to be like you."

Mira pursed her lips in a straight line at his statement. Was she offended?

I, too, would have been offended if I were her and my kid told me that he wanted to be like a fuckup deadbeat brother who lived at the other end of the city just so he could stay away from the very people who would probably be the only ones to cry if he died.

"You'll have to ask your mom, buddy." But staying away was okay. Better. Staying closer fucking hurt.

"Sure, you can go play in the garden," she smiled at Veer. And I was reminded of the fact that she stopped doing that for me a long time ago.

"Yay!" he threw his hands up in happiness. Oblivious to the awkward silence.

I was dreading the day he realized that his brother and mother didn't talk and didn't even smile at each other. What would I say that day? Would I have any answer to that?

We played the rest of the day, taking occasional breaks in the middle to sip on some pink thing Mira kept for us. But the day came to an end like everything good in my life.

The ring of my phone woke me up from my sleep. My hands reached for the phone in the darkness.

"Are you alive?" Dhruv's voice came from the other end.

"Sadly," I got up, groggy from my sleep. My throat felt like sand. I looked around for some water.

"I need you here in 5 minutes. Or coach would kill you, and you can die in peace." I guzzled the water from the bottle, which I kept on my bedside table.

"What reason?"

"You're late for practice." Fuck. "It's 7 already. We have completed our morning run. He'll be here in a few minutes."

"And you decided to wake me up now?"

"I've been trying for the last one and a half hours, you fucker. Now put some pants on and come here." He cut the call.

I saw the notification. 7 missed calls. Who even called college-going people at 6 in the morning? 6 to 8 practice, 8 to 3 classes. Then some more training. What the fuck was this schedule? I should've taken Mira's offer and gone to Boston.

One of these days, my pride would get me killed.

I dunked my head under the tap of the gym shower. After running for an hour straight for being late, my legs felt like they would fall off any minute now. The scolding I got was insane. I knew I was never going to hear the end of it from Dhruv.

I got out of the shower and changed into the spare clothes that I kept here.

"Had fun running around?" Dhruv snickered.

My eyes narrowed at him, wiping the water from my hair with a towel.

"Coach's a pain in the ass."

"He'll say the same about you. The next game is important. You need to focus." He sat down on the bench, tying his shoes.

"I focus enough." I threw the towel in the laundry bag beside my locker.

"Captain of the team should not be late." He got up and looked at me, waiting for me to say something.

I didn't reply. What would I have replied? That, yes, I shouldn't? There were a lot of shoulds and nots hanging over my head. No point in stating the obvious. I looked around for my shoes. Did someone hide it?

"How was your weekend?" I froze at his question.

"The usual." I shrugged, not willing to talk about it again. "Have you seen my shoes?"

"Didn't you keep it in your locker?"

"Not there." It was pissing me off. I ran for an hour, now I didn't have my fucking shoes.

"Found it." He pointed at the torn shoe, which was hanging on the door of the gym.

What the fuck!

"Are we back in high school or something?" Dhruv mused, crossing his arms.

There was no doubt whose artistic creation this was. I had the sudden urge to strangle him. That bastard did this while we were in the shower? His childish tricks were the reason my entire inheritance was in a fucking limbo.

"Do you want me to beat him? I can get my hockey stick." And his sister thought I was a bad influence. She probably thought he was the kindest person alive, and I was the demon from hell.

"We're going to burn some things down." I was certainly not a good influence.