Forward Me Back to You
Page 15
Ravi leans back and closes his eyes. Even recounting his two hours in that sweaty gym is exhausting. He’s still sweaty, in fact. He didn’t stay to shower because he hadn’t brought along fresh underwear.
“But you can’t quit now, Ravi,” Mira says.
Ravi’s eyes fly open. “Why not?”
“If you quit, you’ll reinforce what Shen thinks about foreigners,” she says. “This is a chance to open his heart again to future visitors. That’s why you were sent there, if I know my husband. He’s entrusting you with this because he thinks you’re capable.”
“Arjun Uncle said it might be good for me, too, though. I’m not sure he’s right.”
“It will be good for you, but also for us.” She turns to PG. “Donors from overseas like to visit and learn about our partnership with local police, but Shen recently closed the doors to them. Did he ask you for a commitment, Ravi?”
Ravi remembers the questions. “Yes, I guess he did.”
“And what did you say?” PG asks.
“I said I would try.”
“Then please don’t quit,” Mira says. “You’ll be proving that Shen—not my husband—is right about working with foreigners.”
PG gives him a stern look. “This sounds like a good ‘act of service’ for you, Ravi. That’s why we came, remember?”
“Act of sacrifice, you mean,” Ravi says, massaging his aching quads.
KAT
INT. ASHA HOUSE BABY CARE ROOM—DAY
The babies are in a room that’s so small there’s hardly space to walk. It’s stuffed with two cots, a small fridge, a sink, a stove, cribs, a changing table, and two rocking chairs.
Good thing Gracie’s experienced, even though she’s doing a lot of muttering. “Can’t believe I came all the way across the world to do what I do at home. You’d think I could learn something new, but no. Babies. Again.”
Kat watches her heat a pan of water, mix formula, and warm two bottles by immersing them in hot water. Meanwhile, she sits in a rocking chair and puts her hands over her ears, trying to drown out the sirens shrieking in two of the cribs.
Gracie pulls one bottle out of the pan, picks up a blanketed bundle of scream, and approaches Kat. “Here, bend your left arm just like you did when you were flexing your right one. That elbow’s where the baby’s head goes. Hold the bottle in your right hand. There you go. Now put the nipple end in the baby’s mouth.”
The scream bundle is in Kat’s arms. She can barely see a tiny, wrinkled face writhing around inside the blanket. She tries to jam the bottle into its open, bawling mouth and misses. Formula trickles out of the nipple and drips everywhere. The small human she’s holding wails even more loudly.
“Gracie, help! I can’t do this.”
Gracie comes back and guides the rubbery tip of the bottle into the baby’s mouth.
Crying stops, at least in Kat’s arms.
Small lips close.
Sucking begins.
Alleluia.
Kat keeps rocking in exactly the same rhythm. She hardly breathes.
Gracie picks up the other bundle and takes it to the empty rocking chair. As soon as she attaches that baby to a bottle, the room gets quiet.
Kat and Gracie rock and feed in blessed silence broken only by vacuum-y sucking noises coming from the hungry humans in their arms.
“Breast milk is better for babies,” Gracie says. “Hope they get that most of the time.”
The one Kat’s holding is draining the bottle much faster than Gracie’s. “Are they boys or girls?”
“I think this one’s a boy and that one’s a girl. Wow, yours is a guzzler. Mine’s barely finished an ounce and she’s almost done with six.”
Devouring her food like a Filhote. Good for her.
“You’ll need to burp her soon,” Gracie says. “And then change her diaper.”
The baby slurps the last sip of formula. As Kat pulls out the bottle, the suction makes a whooshing noise. She looks up. Kat looks down. Big, bright brown eyes. Squishy little nose.
“Hold her upright with her face over your shoulder,” Gracie says.
Carefully, Kat shifts the baby into a vertical position.
“Rest her against your body, so you can pat her back with your free hand. That’s how you get them to burp.”
Kat pulls the baby a little closer and pats her back a few times.
Nothing.
Pat, pat, pat again.
A ferocious ERRRRGH erupts out of the tiny mouth. Sounds more like a roar than a burp. “Wow,” Kat says.
“Good one,” Gracie says.
Suddenly, with a mewing sound, the baby’s small body goes limp and nestles against Kat. “Does she have a name?” Kat asks.
“I’m sure she does,” Gracie says. “We’ll ask Amrita and Charubala when they get back. For now, tell you what—you give mine a nickname, and I’ll pick one for yours.”
Kat looks down at the boy in Gracie’s arms. “Okay. We’ll call him … Logan.”
Gracie has to think about that one for a second. “You mean from X-Men?”
“Yep.”
“The only reason I know that name is because I watched every single one of those dumb movies with Ravi. Okay, fine. We’ll call yours Diana. That’s Wonder Woman’s name, right?”
“Right. It’s perfect. Especially if she keeps feeding like she just did.”
In a low voice, Gracie starts singing a lullaby-sounding song in Spanish. Outside the open window, rain is falling hard, slapping against the banana leaves and drenching the night-blooming jasmine. Baby Diana is warm. Smells of powder. Kat takes a deep breath and inhales the scent of flowers and baby skin.
She pictures the faces of the girls who felt the strength of her arm. Here it comes. Golden-Ruling Plan B, in full form. Twenty-four other girls in this house aren’t pregnant. Maybe they can learn some jiu-jitsu. But she’ll still need to convince Miss Shireen that self-defense is as crucial for them to learn as sewing.
For now, she rocks and Diana gurgles. Gracie’s lullaby ends and out of nowhere Kat remembers a song Mom used to sing years ago. She clears her throat and starts it, even though she knows she’s probably off-key.
There sit two little birdies on my windowsill, the name of one is Jack and the other one’s name is Jill. Summer’s nearly over. It will soon be time. For these little birdies, to look for a sunnier clime. Fly away, Jack, fly away, Jill—
EEEHR! A smaller-sounding burp interrupts her song. Gracie’s patting Logan’s back and smiling at Kat.
Kat smiles back.
They rock their sleeping bundles.
RAVI
INT. BOSE FLAT—NIGHT
The girls are in the flat when Ravi gets out of the shower. “Hey, Rob—Ravi!” Gracie says. “How was Sergeant Shen?”
No hug, he notices. And he’d better get used to answering to Rob-Ravi, because it’s going to take PG and Gracie a while to make the switch.
“Tough. He’s training me this summer—not for rescues, but to do Arjun Uncle a favor. They both seem to think he can get my body in better shape.”
“What’s wrong with your body?” Gracie asks. “It looks fine to me.”
Ravi straightens his tired shoulders. The words are good to hear after being pommeled all afternoon. And then he sees the girls’ suitcases standing by the door. “Hey, why are your bags out here?”
“We’re moving to Miss Shireen’s place,” Kat tells him. “Right after dinner.”
What? They can’t do that. “For how long?”
“For the whole summer,” Kat says.
No. Suddenly, he realizes how much he’s been looking forward to having Gracie under the same roof all summer. Even after long days, full of potentially soul-crushing searching and body-crushing workouts, she would be there to hang out with in the evenings. And now she’s decided to leave.
Then PG comes out, hauling his suitcase, too. That’s right—he’s heading to the dorms at the Bible college for the rest of the week.
“I’m fine with it. Turns out Asha House needs some overnight help, and Miss Shireen’s place is on the premises, so it’s perfect. I’m proud of Kat and Gracie for stepping up.”
Ravi’s never liked the feeling of being left behind. In fact he hate, hate, hates it. “I thought we were supposed to be a team.” Even he can hear the sadness in his voice.
“We’ll see you at the office for Bangla lessons in the mornings,” Gracie says. “And maybe we can meet on Fridays and Saturdays to sightsee and stuff.”
Great. He’s probably going to get even less one-on-one time with her than he does in Massachusetts. And no texting, either.
“Maybe we can catch a movie or two on the weekends,” Kat adds.
“And I’m coming back on Saturday evenings,” says PG, chiming into the “cheer Ravi up” chorus. “We’ll go to church together on Sundays. But listen, Ravi … I can come back this Thursday to go with you to the orphanage if you want.”
“No, thanks, PG,” Ravi says quickly. “I’ll be fine.”
Opening his file is something he wants to do alone. If he wanted someone along, he’d have come back to Kolkata with his parents. Or he’d ask Gracie to join him.
Mira calls them to dinner. She heaps their plates with steaming white rice, yellow lentils, cucumber salad, egg-and-potato curry, and garnishes of tangy lime and spicy mango pickle. Beside every plate is a spoon, but Arjun ignores it and starts eating with his right hand. The twins are eating Indian-style, too.
Ravi catches Gracie’s eye. Immediately, they both put down their spoons and start using their right hands, too. Once again, in sync. What’s he going to do without her around?
That weird have-I-done-this-before feeling returns to Ravi as his fingers form small balls of rice and lentils and pop them into his mouth. PG and Kat and Mira stick with spoons, but Ravi guesses their hostess has provided those only to help her guests feel at home.
“I’m sorry you girls have to leave us,” Mira says. “But it’s wonderful you can help the new mothers. They’re just children themselves.”
So that’s what they’ll be doing, Ravi thinks. Taking care of babies. Exactly what Gracie DIDN’T want to do. She grins at him across the table.
“How were the babies for you, Kat?” PG asks.
Kat shrugs. “Okay. Turns out they’re not so different from cubs or pups at the zoo.” Ravi can’t help noticing that she seems much more relaxed than she did this morning.
“You work at a zoo, Kat Didi?” one of the twins asks. Bijoy, Ravi thinks.
“Sort of,” she answers. “I take tickets for a train ride. But someday I want to study zoology.”
“Cool!” says the other. Anand, probably.
“You’ll have to visit our cheer-ee-ya-kha-nah,” says Mira. “It’s the oldest zoo in all of India.”
“Nice work, Mira,” Arjun says. “Our family has decided to throw in as many Bangla words as we can to help you succeed in your Bangla ish-cool.”
“Ish-cool. School. What’s the word for baby?” Gracie asks.
“Bahch-cha!” the twins answer, in unison.
“What’s going to happen to them?” Ravi asks, trying to sound casual. “The babies, I mean. Will Asha House let them stay there?”
Arjun shakes his head. “For a while, at least. We are struggling to care for these babies of babies. Our goal for rescued girls is repatriation with grace to their families and villages. Bringing a baby along who was fathered by a customer or pimp makes that much more difficult.”
“It’s not the baby’s fault,” Kat says immediately.
Silently, Ravi agrees. Are they going to be deposited in an orphanage in Kolkata? Sent far away to strangers? “Isn’t there any way they can stay with their mothers?” he asks.
Gracie looks at him, her eyes wide.
“We’re doing our best,” Arjun says. “So much need. So few resources. And there’s another due soon, too.”
“Kavita’s,” Kat says. “When is her due date?”
“Quite soon, I think,” says Arjun. “I’m waiting until the baby comes before I ask her to testify.”
Suddenly, Kat leaps to her feet.
KAT
Kat can’t believe what she’s just heard. “What? You’re going to ask her to go to court? After what she’s been through already?”
“It’s hard, but that’s what she must do to get this man behind bars.”
“She can’t do that! She needs to move forward now, not relive her past! She made that fund-raising film for you guys. Wasn’t that enough?”
“Time out, Kat,” PG says, and his usually calm voice has a warning edge.
“Kavita volunteered for that opportunity,” the man says. “Shireen made sure she was ready. The trauma counselor told us that it actually helped her.”
Kat’s going to have to rename him. He’s more like a Spotted Hyena than a Pheasant. “Testifying will just bring her more trauma,” she says, ignoring the expression on PG’s face. “It’s easy for you to suggest, but she’s the one who’ll have to face her abuser.”
Gracie gives the hem of Kat’s blouse a small tug. “Easy,” she whispers.
“Arjun and Shireen are the experts here, not us,” PG says. His tone is steely. “They know these girls. They’ve been doing this for years. Sit down, Kat.”
Kat sits. Her butt lands with a loud thud on the wooden chair. She leans back and folds her arms across her chest.
“First abuse, and now childbirth,” says Mira. “Poor girl. I can understand why you’re upset on her behalf, Kat.”
Arjun reaches over and lightly touches his wife’s shoulder. The food that seemed so delicious before this conversation now tastes like dust. Kat pushes away her plate. Gracie elbows her, but Kat doesn’t say anything.
“Thanks for a delicious dinner, Mira Auntie,” Gracie says. “It’s been a long, challenging day. Sorry if we seem … tired.”
Not tired, Kat thinks. Pissed off.
PG pats his stomach. “Our church is hoping I’ll lose a few pounds while I’m here. At this rate, Mira, I’ll get back to Boston with even more of me to love. I hope the food at the seminary dining hall isn’t this good.”
He’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, but it doesn’t work. The tension in the room is as heavy as the humidity in the air.
Kat stands up again. “Let’s go, Gracie. Those babies need feeding every three hours. It’s going to be a long night for us.”
“I have to go, too,” PG says. “It’s going to be a long auto-rickshaw ride for me.”
“No rickshaw rides for any of you,” the Hyena man says. “I’ll drive you. Ravi, will you carry a few suitcases?”
RAVI
After the girls, Arjun, and PG leave, Ravi helps the twins clear the table, responding on autopilot with “that’s right” and “maybe” to their video game argument. Why did Kat react so fiercely to Arjun? Her anger seemed out of proportion. Nefertiti, back with full force.
If he had his phone, he would have texted Gracie, and they would have gone back and forth to process the evening. But there was no way to do that now. And she’d hurried off so fast Ravi didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.
He hadn’t told her about Bontu. Or shared details about Shen.
Her rows of pink hearts always encouraged him. How is he going to make it through the summer without them—and without her hugs?
KAT
INT./EXT. MISS SHIREEN’S COTTAGE—NIGHT
“Did that conversation bring up memories, Kat?” Gracie asks gently after the Maruti drops them off and the guard locks the gate behind them. “Is that why you got so upset?”
Kat takes a big breath of night-blooming jasmine. “I shouldn’t have lost it like that, I guess. I just don’t think Kavita should testify. She’s already gone through so much.”
“Maybe you’re right. But we have to trust our Indian hosts. We signed PG’s contracts, remember?”
Kat sighs. “I know. I just hate it when men tell a girl what to do. Especially after other men do terrible things to her.”
They haul their suitcases to Miss Shireen’s lighted cottage in the back of the enclosed garden. As the older woman gives them a quick tour of her place, Kat feels herself start to relax again. This door secures with a lock, bolt, and chain. A small spare room has been set up with two mattresses on the floor, two cots, and two sleeping (for now) babies. Miss Shireen shows them the small kitchen where they can mix formula and heat up bottles, and the bathroom, which is full of scented shampoos, perfumed soap, and other girl-only products. It locks, too.
“Good night, girls,” Miss Shireen says. Putting earplugs in her ears, she disappears into her bedroom.
Gracie and Kat decide to stick with their original assignments—Logan for Gracie and Diana for Kat. Logan wakes once in the night with a soft cry. Diana screams like a banshee four different times, bringing Kat to her feet with her heart racing.
That means they both get woken up five times. The good news is that Kat can already bottle-feed on autopilot by the time the sun rises.
INT. BENGALI EMANCIPATION SOCIETY HEADQUARTERS—DAY
Kat and Gracie fall asleep during the rickshaw ride to the office, and the driver has to raise his voice to wake them up when they arrive. The buzzer lets them enter and they stumble into the classroom where Mrs. Bengal Tiger and Ravi are waiting.
Their teacher starts with phrases that she thinks they’ll probably use every day.
Kaw-thoh dhahm? How much does it cost?
Rickshaw koh-th-aye? Where is the rickshaw?
Kat’s tired brain struggles to keep up as the three of them repeat the sounds of the words. Their teacher explains the difference between the “yous” in Bangla. Ap-nee for adult strangers and people who are older, thu-mee for friends and people your own age, and tu-ee for your closest friends and younger brothers and sisters. So, ap-nee for the Partridge, Mrs. Tiger, and Miss Shireen. Thu-mee for Ravi and Gracie. And tu-ee for Baby Diana, Kavita, and the other Asha House girls.