tales of Suchita

I love my brother. Don’t get me wrong. I do love him. And he’s my older brother so the regard and love I have for him aren’t something I can explain. But he’s a stubborn bull and if he locks his feet in, no matter how much I drag, he won’t budge. He. Will. Not. Budge. Jesus christ!

I know something has been bothering him for the past month and he won’t tell me. Now, I know what you’re going to tell me. You will say Priya, it’s okay. You need to give him space. Maybe it’s something personal and he’s not ready to share. Don’t browbeat – alright maybe you won’t use that particular word ha ha bhai yes I’m an intellectual with a better vocabulary than you ha ha – him and he will talk to you when he decides.

But see, that’s where the problem is. I have given him thirty days already. And he is still refusing to tell me why he has suddenly gone so quiet. Why he won’t respond to any of my GIFs. Why every time I have tried to make a nonchalant suggestion of hanging out, he has shut me down.

He won’t talk to me and I have tried being subtle, giving him his space. If he took any more space, he’ll be floating in the stratosphere like a weather balloon – how’s that for vocabulary bhai. Enough is enough. I’m going to his apartment and I will sit outside if I have to, or ring his doorbell until he gets a headache, but I’m getting the truth out of him.

Wish me luck.

*

I decide to ambush him on Sunday morning with his favourite quiche, sandwich and cake in tow. I’m prepared to further bribe him with my Priya-famous chai. No one makes chai like me. And it’s not false pride either. My mother has told me I make chai better than her. And Shushumati Yadav does not give compliments easily. She will rather pluck out her eyelashes than say you’re good at something.

Have you tried plucking your eyelashes? It effing hurts. How do I know? I plucked one. Just so I could have the correct analogy for her. I’m pedantic that way.

He knows I mean business when he sees my offerings. But because he loves me, he lets me in and doesn’t even roll his eyes. That’s progress if you ask me.

He tells me to spread the breakfast on his coffee table and goes into the kitchen to make coffee for both of us. If I’m the king of chai, he’s the king of coffee. Don’t tell him I told you this but no one makes coffee like bhai. It just…tastes like love, you know? And I don’t know how he does this but the coffee he makes for me and the one he makes for dad taste different. I tried to find what he was doing differently but…it is what it is. Even I know that everything cannot be explained. No matter how hard I look for one.

He settles in front of me, coffee mug in hand. He takes the quiche first and I know it’s ridiculous but I notice that. Had he been okay, he would have taken the cake first.

I wait, because I’m nice that way. I wait for him to fill the silence but he doesn’t. He eats. At least he’s eating. Once we’re both done, I see him looking at me expectantly like he needs me to ask, one more time, please Priya, before he can answer.

I play my part. “So how’s it going?” Seeing his face, I sigh, roll my eyes. He needs my question to be exact. Now who’s being pedantic bhai? I throw my hands in the air.

“For the love of the effing lord, what is wrong with you?”

He says, “I think I’m not as straight as I had thought.”

I blink. I wait. When nothing else comes out of his mouth, I ask, “Is that it?”

He pouts. I want to punch him in the face. Instead, I throw myself at him, hugging him. I don’t know who is sobbing but it’s not me.

“Why aren’t you surprised?”

“Because you are a bull-headed moron and if I wasn’t so relieved right now and this coffee hadn’t tasted like perfection, I would have dumped this on your head! Not straight, good lord. It took you thirty effing days to tell me this? At least you’re not dying. I would have been pissed off had you said that.”

He laughs, blushing and looking relieved.

“When do I get to meet this person?”

He smiles. I have never seen that smile on his face. I am not crying, stop lying.

“How do you know there’s someone?”

“Please. Look at your precious face.”

He giggles. My grown ass brother giggles and the anxiety of the last thirty days feels worth it.

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Song: Hero by Enrique Iglesias

Check out the other posts for 2023 here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z

Header image: Photo by Erick Palacio on Unsplash