Chapter Text
"Walk with me," Tashi says, a month after Patrick moves in.
They haven't talked about it up until now. Art brought Patrick home, and all he said was, "He's staying with us. I'm not letting him sleep in his car." All she said was, "Okay." Which is pretty much the only thing she can think to say these days. Tashi's never been good at connecting with people; she's charming, she can make small talk, she can climb into people's heads, but something visceral within her always cringes when people try to climb into hers. That's something, maybe the main thing, she hates about Art: he's always trying to get into her f*cking head. He wants to understand her as well as she understands him, wants her to need him as badly as he needs her, and he thinks she's somehow broken because she doesn't want those things. He thinks he just has to fix her, and then she'll come running to him, and they'll live codependently ever after. But Tashi isn't built like that. She learned early on that no one would push her as hard as she pushed herself; if she wanted to be great, she couldn't rely on anyone else to tell her who to be.
Art is really the one who needs fixing. He has no confidence in himself, so he picks out people he admires and tries to become them instead. He can't love anyone without following them like a compass, which worked great, for a while, when Tashi needed a body to play tennis through and Art needed someone to tell him how to live— but now he's giving it up, that one thing they shared, and she can't believe he didn't know it would be over after that. When he asked her to tell him it didn't matter, she wanted to laugh bitterly, to say, "Love doesn't mean sh*t to you unless you have to earn it. Isn't that why you left Patrick for me? You gonna leave me, too, once I stop making you earn it?" She wanted to tell him tennis is the only relationship she doesn't feel trapped in, because once you step off the court, no one owes anyone anything. She wanted to tell him if she could do it again, she'd be his coach and not his wife, but sometimes you don't know yourself until you're a scared animal backed into a corner, hunted down by all the things you've been trying to convince yourself aren't true.
Things are better now, with Patrick. She doesn't feel so smothered, Art doesn't look so damn sad. They're still a little cold toward each other— the feeling of being trapped and the feeling of being betrayed both take a while to wear off— but Tashi thinks there's an understanding that things will be better with time. She likes having Patrick around for his own sake, too; he's maybe the best friend she's ever had, the only person who never expected her to be more or less than what she was. When Art brought him home, she knew he was there to stay. He filled an empty space that had been lurking for years, in every house and hotel room, every bed she and Art had slept in together. He keeps badgering her to coach him, not because she needs it, but because he wants it, and every time her heart lets out a little sigh of relief because it's not over. It doesn't have to be over. None of it does.
Right now, Patrick is sitting at the breakfast table next to Lily, watching her color in a picture of Miles Morales. He points to the half-finished toast on her plate. "You gonna eat that?"
"Let her finish, Patrick," Tashi calls from the sofa. She's got her laptop open, watching some of Patrick's more recent matches, trying to get a feel for what she's working with. "She's a slow eater."
"It's okay, Mommy. Uncle Patrick can have it."
She turns around, one arm over the back of the couch like she's reversing a car. "Uncle Patrick?"
He shrugs. Tashi's eyes narrow.
"Where's Art?"
"Still asleep, last I saw." Patrick smirks, like he's about to add something salacious, but she cuts him off before he can.
"Lily, go wake Daddy up, okay? Tell him Mommy and Uncle Patrick are going on a walk and you're going to keep him company until we get back."
"Knock and tell him to put some pants on first," Patrick calls as she runs up the stairs. Tashi shoots him a withering look.
"You. Walk with me."
***
It's a hot day. Patrick has his hands shoved in his pockets, moping at having to be out under the sun. Tashi doesn't really want to be, either, but they need to have this out. Art loves Patrick, Patrick loves Art, and she loves them both in her own muddy, confusing way— and that would all be fine, they could take time to figure it out, except Lily is starting to love Patrick, too. She looks up to him. She knows him as the adult who never refuses her popcorn and always has the energy to play. And she sees how much her father loves him, how familiar her mother is with him, and seems to have concluded that he's part of the family. If she's going to believe that, Patrick needs to believe it, too.
"Don't let her get attached if you're gonna leave," Tashi says, breaking the silence suddenly.
Patrick's eyebrows lift. "Who said I'm leaving? I've got a cushy thing going here. Room and board, free coaching, my ex-girlfriend and her loving husband..."
"I mean it, Patrick. It's not 'room and board,' it's— you live here. We all live together." She swallows. "Like families do."
Patrick digests this, walking slowly. "I didn't know you thought of it like that."
"Don't you?"
"I don't know. I guess I was just— I mean, I thought you'd kick me out at some point."
"Why would I do that?"
"I dunno, 'cause I'm f*cking your husband and I contribute nothing?"
"You f*cked me, too," Tashi points out. "And you wanna keep playing tennis, don't you? That's contributing something."
"Yeah, but I don't wanna feel like everything depends on me playing tennis. At some point, I'm gonna have to retire, and I don't want you to dump my ass when I do."
"Like Art."
"Yeah, like Art."
Tashi sighs, gritting her teeth. It frustrates her that she doesn't know how to explain. "That was different."
"Oh, yeah? How so?"
"I just— he needed something from me that I couldn't give, but I could give him tennis instead. I could give him that, and be grateful that he gave me that, and it would be close enough. But once that was gone..." She shrugs. "Couldn't pretend anymore."
"That you loved him?"
"I do love him. Just... not in the way he wanted me to."
Patrick squints far down the path, a strip of white concrete in a sea of suburban grass. He's got that wrinkle in his forehead that means he's thinking.
"Anyway," Tashi says, "it'd be different with you. Tennis isn't standing in for anything. When it's gone, it's just gone. It doesn't blow anything up."
"You sure?"
She nods, although she isn't. But Patrick probably knows that.
"Anyway, it's not really my decision. Lily already loves you. I couldn't kick you out if I wanted to."
"That's crazy," Patrick muses. "All I do is steal her food and crush her in Mario Kart. And sometimes I sneak in and move her dinosaur toys around so she thinks they're alive."
"Uh-huh. So that tutu you were wearing yesterday was, what? A fashion statement?"
"Actually, it was three tutus duct-taped together 'cause they're made for eight-year-olds and I'm built like a stallion." He grins proudly. "But yeah, it was my turn to be Princess Lightning Hippo. Such things happen when you're unemployed."
"Patrick."
"Huh?"
Tashi puts a hand on his arm, stopping them both. "I want you to stay."
For a few seconds, Patrick stares at her, frozen. Then he cups her face in his hands, and for a second Tashi thinks he's going to kiss her, but he just kisses her forehead and pulls her into a long-overdue embrace. She melts into him, breathing in the sharp scent of his deodorant and the smell of the family detergent on his shirt. He strokes her hair, and it's so good she could cry. Nobody's held her since that night before the Challenger.
"I want to stay," Patrick whispers. "I should've never left."
***
When they get home, Art and Lily are on the sofa, watching that old Swan Princess movie that Tashi always gets mixed up with the Last Unicorn one. Art looks up when the sliding door opens, and for a second, his eyes meet Tashi's. She still doesn't know how to look at him. He's looking at her with a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes, maybe more of a grimace, except it's softer. There's pain there, but also understanding.
"Uncle Patrick!" Lily leaps off the sofa and comes running to him. "Show Daddy the horse sound! He doesn't believe me!"
"No, I believe you," Art says, eyes overflowing with fondness as he looks at Patrick. "I just want to see it for myself."
For a second, Tashi feels left out. A tiny bit jealous, even. But then Patrick gives her a look like he wants her to save him from it, and she gets to make a grand sweep of her arms and say, "By all means." And then they're all in on it.
Patrick rolls his eyes and does a very convincing neigh.
"Wow," Art grins, crossing to the three of them and resting his hands on the top of Lily's head. "I didn't know you had that in you."
Patrick shrugs. "You just gotta shake your head real fast so your cheeks flap against your teeth. Anyone can do it."
"I highly doubt that."
Art's eyes shift to Tashi, and his smile becomes different. A question she doesn't know how to answer. Patrick picks up on it instantly, of course.
"Hey, 3D. You wanna go out and play horses?"
"YES!" Lily shouts, and runs out after him through the sliding-glass door. Patrick comes back to shut it behind them, giving Art and Tashi an exaggerated thumbs-up that makes both of them roll their eyes.
"3D?" Tashi asks, after a beat.
"She's the third Donaldson."
"Right."
They stand side-by-side, looking out through the glass. 'Playing horses' apparently just means Lily sits on Patrick's back and points him where to go while he crawls around on all fours.
"He's good with her," Tashi remarks. "I didn't expect that."
"I kinda did."
"Why?"
"'Cause she's both of us. And he loves both of us."
She chews her lip, wanting it to be true, not quite ready to believe it. "Both?"
"C'mon, Tashi. Of course."
They stand still, staring out at the backyard. Something else needs to be said, and Tashi knows that this time, Art isn't going to say it first. He wants her to make this concession for him. He wants to know he's important enough for her to admit, out loud, that she wants something from someone. But Tashi is terrified right now, and when she's terrified, putting up a facade of total self-sufficiency has always been her first line of defense.
She glares at him.
"What?" Art says, offended.
"You're waiting for me to say I love you."
"No, I'm f*cking— Jesus, Tashi, how many of our problems are just you thinking you know what I'm thinking? I wasn't waiting for anything." He laughs bitterly, the morning light lending a harsh beauty to his features. "I'm well aware you don't love me."
She's getting angry at him again. "What, now you think you know what I'm thinking?"
"Well, that one's pretty f*ckin' obvious."
"You don't know anything, Art."
"Oh, so you do love me?"
"Yeah, I f*cking do!"
Tashi almost shouts it. He's been doing that sarcastic grin that gets on her nerves, and the sun is turning that streak of brown in his eye to gold, and he's so beautiful and so infuriating and she misses how he used to hold her when she woke up from a bad dream. He's staring at her like she's insane, or maybe he is.
"Then why," he says slowly, "don't you ever say it?"
She can't meet his eyes, but she also can't look away from him, so she studies the fraying collar of his t-shirt.
"You needed me too much. Saying I loved you felt like saying I was okay with that."
Art is staring down into the space between them. She can't tell if he's angry or trying not to cry.
"My parents were never in love with each other," Tashi says quietly. "I never got crushes growing up. I never had any real boyfriends except you and Patrick, and Patrick was more like a good friend I had sex with." She digs her fingernails into her palms, scraping the truth out of herself, this thing she hasn't been able to articulate until now. "When I still had tennis, I never needed anything else. You were there the first time I ever needed someone, and I had no reason to think that wasn't love."
"So you don't love me."
"I love you so much, Art! So f*cking much! Everyone thinks if you're not in love it means less, but it doesn't!" She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes, angry that this is making her cry. "Everyone thinks being in love is supposed to be the meaning of life, like nothing else f*cking matters! Where does that leave me? It means I don't f*cking matter. Everyone always leaves the people they love for the people they're in love with. And I already got left behind once."
Art pulls her close, cradling her head against his chest. She hasn't cried like this since college, the first time she was forced to admit she was broken.
"Nobody's gonna leave you," he whispers into her hair. She doesn't deserve this softness after what she's just admitted, but then Art always gave her more than she deserved, more than she could handle.
"I should've let you marry somebody else."
"I'm glad you didn't."
He holds her tightly, swaying a little, like he held Patrick on the court after the challenger. Tashi shivers, remembering how it felt for him to leave and not look back. How she knew, when he texted her he was staying at Patrick's, what would inevitably happen. How her life was about to change.
"Are you two going to move out?" Her voice sounds uncharacteristically small, even to herself. "Do you want me to move out?"
"Of course not. This is your house." He smooths her hair, his other hand running up and down her back. "Are you okay with Patrick living here?"
She nods against his chest.
"Then we're all going to stay here. And, for the record, I'd stay no matter what. I'm not gonna throw away the life I've built with you just 'cause I'm in love with him." Tashi feels him smile, cheek resting on top of her head. His voice is rueful. "I'm not as stupid as I was in college."
Before she can answer, something hits the sliding-glass door, and they both jump. Tashi wipes her eyes quickly, looking out to see Patrick mouthing "Sorry" with Lily on his shoulders.
"Sorry," he says again, pushing the door open. He ducks to fit Lily under the threshold, and she shrieks, holding onto his neck so tight that his next words come out a little strangled. "Lily wanted a snack."
"Animals crackers are in the pantry," Art says, looking impossibly fond.
"Thanks." He starts to turn away, but then catches sight of Tashi's face. It must be obvious she's been crying. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Mama," Lily says, concerned.
"I'm okay, baby. It's okay." But just saying it makes her throat tighten, and she starts to panic; she can't let her daughter see her break. Patrick must register the trapped look in her eyes, because he steps forward, drawing her into him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck where Lily can't see it.
She's crying, but managing to do so quietly. The scruff of Patrick's neck prickles her cheek.
"Mom's alright, kid," Patrick says. "Just needs a hug." One arm releases Tashi, extending toward Art. "You need one, too, Dad?"
After a beat, Art says, "Yeah." And then he's holding half of Tashi and Patrick is holding half of her, and they're each holding half of each other, and she's holding half of them both. Lily's small arms snake around all three of their heads, so they couldn't pull apart even if they wanted to. Tashi feels her eyes close, her heartbeat slow. She may not have begun to heal just yet, but she can feel something inside her stop breaking.
They stand like that for a long time, nobody saying a word.
