Tale Teller (West Hampton U Series #1)

Chapter 16 ● Worthy

-- Sameer --

I was writing a lot.

At first it felt weird, like something boys don't do because only girls wrote in journals. But once I got over the illogical internalized sexism, I began to find a lot of solace in writing things down. When I shared this with Caden, he encouraged me to continue to write more. He said it was a common therapy technique to confront and grow with our uncomfortable feelings. Admittedly, he was right. My heart felt light a ton of weight was lifted off of it.

I wrote my thoughts to Muskaan, I wrote a thank you to Zain for pushing me to face my feelings, I wrote my gratitude to Ruhaan for his friendship, I wrote to my mom about how much I appreciated her sacrifices. I even wrote to my deadbeat father and how I didn't feel he needed my forgiveness, but I granted it to him anyways so that my heart would be cleared of any connection to him.

These letters were not for anyone. I wrote them on my computer, and stored them away in a folder titled 'Kobe Pictures,' just in case someone was looking at my files.

My holiday week flew by between spending time with my little brother Harris and mom. I was ready to head out and reach campus before classes started tomorrow after one last dinner with mom before I hit the road. She made biryani.

I sat at the table, enjoying her stories of the retirement home she worked at. Harris was barely paying attention, having heard these stories a hundred times before, but I didn't mind.

"So Sammu," mom started as she puts dishes in the sink. Harris had been sent off to bed since he had school first thing in the morning. I tried convincing him to join me at West Hampton in the Fall but I think he wants to head out West for college. Another bill to add to my list of financial stressors. "Who's that girl I saw in some pictures on Instagram? Bari hi khoobsurat hai woh (She's very beautiful)," mom says coyly.

I sigh amusedly, knowing there was no hiding anything from her. She was always so proud of me, and she followed the team's Instagram account so she would be able to see anything posted about me. She must have seen some picture of Muskaan and I at some point at a game, or at the very least the interactions between my account and Muskaan's. I'm just surprised it took her this long to bring it up, but to be fair she probably figured I would have told her something if there was something worth telling. I usually didn't hide such major things from her.

"Bohat khubsoorat hai woh. (She's very beautiful)," I smile, feeling uncharacteristically shy about it. I pull out my phone from my pocket and show mom a picture of us two from Diwali, when Muskaan was in that pink saree that nearly knocked me down to my knees.

My mom coos so loudly I was scared she'd wake up Harris. "Aur batao mujhe," she demands.

"She's Ruhaan's high school friend. She's really smart mumma, and she's kind and patient, and sees the best in me."

Mom walks over, wrapping her arms around me. "Shaadi ka shagun leke kab aoon? (When should I expect a proposal)," she teases.

"Aisa nahi hai mumma. We are just friends," I couldn't make my voice even remotely convincing as I said that.

"Koi baat nahi. First be friends, pyaar mein parr ne ke liye toh puri zindagi baaki hai (You have all your life to fall in love)."

I ponder her words, and she steps back, grabbing the bag of food she had packed for me for the week. I did see myself with Muskaan for the rest of my life. So truly, what was the rush?

She slides the heavy bag into my hands and then takes my face between her small fingers. "Sameer my jaan. Are you okay? Are you happy?"

"Yes mom," I give her an honest smile. She asked me this question every time I came home to visit, but this time, I could hear some true doubt in her words. Maybe I wasn't doing as well as I thought I was at hiding my stress from my face. "Everything is good."