Blessed are the meek, PG taught them from Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount. Robin has been meek ever since he can remember. He’s naturally meek. He’s done things out of duty; he’s obedient. But tonight, for the first time, acting on anger felt right.
Robin replays the scene in his head. “Little Guy” finally Hulked out. Now he feels victorious. But neither of those—anger or triumph—explain how he felt when PG invited them to go to Kolkata. His knee-jerk reaction to returning there has always been “no way,” but tonight that wasn’t the case.
He wanted to go.
Because some other emotion’s clamoring for attention.
Is it guilt? Shame?
No. It feels like the polar opposite of those.
But he still can’t see it. He can’t name it.
He crosses the river and heads back in the other direction on the Pike. He’d better get home. By now, Mom will be worried.
“A brown boy driving a red sports car is a ticket waiting to happen, or worse,” he overheard her saying once. “What were you thinking, Ed? He could have had an eco-friendly, practical car, like mine.”
“Robin couldn’t decide,” Dad had answered. “When he told me to pick, I just got him the car I wanted when I was sixteen. My father said no; it felt good to buy it for my son.”
The transponder beeps as Robin passes through the tolls. He loves driving the Corvette—only an idiot wouldn’t—but he can’t bring himself to tell his dad about the car he truly wants.
A vintage, broken-down Volkswagen Beetle has been rusting in the back of Mike’s shop, losing parts right and left to other cars that need them. Robin visits it at the end of every shift and rests his hand on the curved roof for a minute or two, daydreaming about the first steps he’d take in fixing it up.
The Corvette zooms off the familiar exit, times the green lights perfectly, and transports Robin to the only home he can remember. This blue, three-story Victorian was built by his grandfather’s grandfather. His father inherited it as an only child. And now, Robin is next in line.
He parks the car he didn’t want in front of the house he isn’t sure he wants and turns off the engine. Help me, God, he prays. Show me what I’m feeling.
And then he sits in the darkness and waits.
KAT
INT. GRANDMA VEE’S APARTMENT—NIGHT
Grandma Vee’s in the kitchen when Kat crunches back across the snow to her house. “How was small group?”
“Strange,” Kat says.
“Strange? Why?”
Well, for one, there’s a girl there who actually talks to God like he’s real. Gracie’s prayer was probably the oddest part of the whole evening. Closing your eyes and asking somebody invisible to help you make a decision? Weird. Weirder than weird. “They’re thinking of going to India this summer,” she says out loud.
Grandma Vee looks at Kat, eyebrows almost reaching the white hair she keeps trimmed against her skull. “To India? But that’s where Robin was born!”
“I know. But he didn’t seem too excited about it. He and his big friend had some kind of blow-up and he stormed out of the meeting early.”
“Robin? Stormed out? Well, something is definitely going on with that boy. Tell me more about this India plan.”
Kat explains the invitation from PG’s friend and his organization while Grandma Vee listens closely.
And then: “You want to go along, Kat?”
“Uh … no, thanks. I’m going home in June.” Saying yes to visiting a small group of religious weirdos is one thing. But spending a whole summer with them? In a foreign, faraway country? No way.
“Taking a risk can bring healing to your soul,” the old woman says.
Kat’s phone buzzes and she glances at it. “Excuse me. Text from Mom. I should probably read it.”
“Go ahead, child. Mothers come first. I’d actually like to send a text myself. I usually call, but this time I think I’ll try the written word.” Grandma Vee puts on her glasses, picks up her own phone, and slowly begins tapping the screen with her pointer finger.
Kat turns away to read Mom’s message. It’s longer than usual. No emojis. Hope you’re starting to feel at home there, Kat. I miss you. I’m sorry to tell you, though, darling, that when I went to the zoo and asked them to hold your job for this summer, they said they couldn’t. They need someone now to fill your hours.
Kat can’t believe it. So now that Wolf’s making her lose her job, too. Just when she was about to start making more than minimum wage. Forty hours a week this summer could have shored up their bank account.
Another text comes in from Mom. I know you’ll be mad when you hear this, but I still think sending you to Boston was the right decision. You’ll see that soon, I’m sure.
I’ll see that never, Kat thinks, scowling at the screen in her hand. A surge of anger—just as Mom predicted—makes her feel like throwing the phone across the room. Right now, all she wants is to make her mother feel some pain.
ROBIN
INT. CORVETTE—NIGHT
No divine answer comes zinging instantly after Robin’s prayer. He’s talked to God for as long as he can remember, repeating the Lord’s Prayer with one or both of his parents at bedtime, bowing his head at church and agreeing with other people, or shooting up simple, quick prayers on his own.
God’s not a vending machine, PG warns them when they discuss prayer at small group. Still, up to now, Robin’s mostly asked for stuff, and his parents answered instead of God—no to a puppy at eight, yes to a gaming system at twelve, no to a motorcycle at fourteen.
This is the first time Robin’s asked God to illuminate his soul. He has no idea how long an answer might take.
He spots his mother peering out of the front window. He knows exactly what she’s been up to—watching for him to come home. Even though Dad’s always telling her to leave Robin alone, she’s probably texted five times.
That reminds him—his phone. He switches it off airplane mode. Sure enough, the texts come flying in like birds to a feeder.
Mom’s only sent two messages. Good for her.
#1: Where are you, honey? Small group got out an hour ago.
#2: Text or call soon, Robin. I’m getting worried.
He texts back: I see you, Mom. I’ll be there in a bit. He flashes his headlights, and she waves from the window and disappears.
Gracie’s sent five.
#1: Hey, Robin. You left so quickly. You okay?
#2: What do you think of Kat?
#3: She looks a little like Storm in those X-Men movies you like, don’t you think?
#4: I’m glad you told Brian to stop using that nickname. I didn’t know you hated it so much.
#5: Are you there? Is your phone on? Text as soon as you get this.
Robin smiles. These are so typical, so caring.
I’m fine, he texts back. He’s better than fine, actually. He hasn’t felt this energetic in weeks, maybe months. Anger’s good juice. At first, I thought Kat might look a little like Halle Berry, but then after a while she didn’t anymore. Talk soon.
Gracie replies with a row of pink hearts with stars slicing through them.
PG’s texted Robin twice.
#1: I know you haven’t wanted to go back to India with your parents, Robin, but how do you feel about going back with me? And maybe Gracie, too? Talk it over with your mom and dad. I’d sure love your company.
#2: Also what happened tonight? Glad you finally stood up to Brian but I’ve never seen you so angry.
Robin decides to answer this one. Jesus overturned tables. Don’t you read your Bible?
A laughing-hysterically face from PG shows up in two seconds.
And then, to Robin’s amazement, there’s a message from Ms. Vee. She never texts. She hates making grammatical and spelling errors, and she can’t type or thumb very well. But here it is, mistakes and all. One of her pithy quotes, written this time instead of voiced.
RObin. Kat told me about INDIA. my 2 cents: Some t imes
you have to go Back to the PASt to move forWARD into the FuTURE.
What’s she talking about? He reads it again. And then once more.
Suddenly, Robin pulls down the visor and looks in the lighted mirror. He sees cheeks and chin that need a daily shave to be stubble-free, brown eyes, wavy hair, dark skin, angular face.
He inherited all of this from strangers.
People he doesn’t know. Or remember.
Like his “first mother,” as Mom always calls her.
With a jolt, Robin suddenly recognizes that hidden emotion. The one that’s behind his strange desire to return to Kolkata.
Hope. It’s hope.
If he goes back to his birthplace, by some miracle, after all these years, maybe, maybe he can find her.
He wants to see her again.
Hear her voice.
Even discover something, anything, about why she couldn’t keep him.
KAT
INT. GRANDMA VEE’S APARTMENT—NIGHT
Grandma Vee’s muttering at her phone. “How do I send this text, Kat?” she asks.
Kat leans over and taps SEND on the screen. “Maybe I will go to India this summer, Grandma Vee. How would I pay for a trip like that?”
“Really? You think you’d like to go? The church raises money for this kind of thing.”
“They’ll cover the cost? Even for me?”
“Usually. Yes.”
Okay, then. This trip to India could be an all-expenses-paid “volunteer summer service trip” for Katina King. Take that, Mom. And take that, college admissions committees.
“But will your mother allow you?” Grandma Vee asks. “She thinks you’re coming home in June.”
“She sent me here, didn’t she? She must not care too much about me being far away.”
“I’m sure she does. Why not call and ask? That three-hour time difference comes in handy at times like this.”
Fine. I’ll tell her RIGHT NOW.
Mom picks it up on the first ring. “Kat! I’m so sorry about the job—”
“Yeah, well, it frees up my summer. I’m going to India instead.”
“WHAT? With whom? To do what?”
“To fight child trafficking. Or to learn about it, at least. Now that I’m fired from the zoo, I need something for my college applications. Plus, the church pays for the whole thing. Which is good, since you broke our bank account.”
“You’re just doing this because you’re mad at me, Kat. I had to force you to go to Boston. And now you’re asking to be away from home even longer?”
Mom has it on speakerphone so Kat can hear Saundra offering her opinion in the background.
“Saundra says there’s plenty of trafficking right here in Oakland,” her mother tells her. “She could set you up with some volunteer work this summer. Wait, what?” Saundra’s adding something else now. “It’s tough stuff, she says. Hard for a lot of people to handle. You still need time to heal, she thinks.”
“Taking a risk like this might help me heal.” Out of the corner of her eye, Kat sees Grandma Vee trying to hide a smile.
“If you’d kept seeing the counselor, maybe I’d believe you actually want healing,” Mom retorts. “I don’t think any counselor in their right mind would agree that running away to another country would be good for you right now.”
Grandma Vee holds out her hand for the phone.
“Here,” Kat says. “Talk it over with Grandma Vee. She thinks it’s a great idea.”
Another second of silence. “You’re already calling her Grandma? I’m your mom, I don’t care—Wait, what?” Saundra’s saying something. “I know you said she was amazing, Saundra, but I’m making decisions for Kat, not—” She stops, listens to something Kat can’t hear. “Okay, Katina, put Ms. Jones on the phone.”
Grandma Vee takes the phone and disappears into her room. Kat waits, trying to figure out if she wants her mother to say yes or no. She remembers that night on the bathroom floor a few months ago. Maybe Mom’s right. Maybe Kat shouldn’t travel even farther from home.
When Grandma Vee reemerges, she’s smiling.
Kat puts the phone back to her ear.
“I guess you can do this if you want, Kat,” Mom says. “Ms. Jones thinks it might be the opportunity of a lifetime. I’d like to send some money to help pay for the trip. We’ve got a fifty tucked away in our ‘spa day splurge’ jar. I’ll send it with your passport. And thanks for being such a good sport about losing your zoo job.”
After Kat hangs up, she turns to Grandma Vee. “What did you tell her? I can’t believe she’ll let me go.” I can’t believe she doesn’t want me to come back in June.
“Just that healing can come in many forms—even through serving others. And that a trip like this might be a once-in-a-lifetime chance. So—do you want to go? Take a moment, Kat; think hard.”
Saundra’s coaching words. Kat obeys them.
What else is she going to do this summer? If she stays in Oakland, even if Saundra sets her up with “volunteering,” she’ll have to earn some money to help out with rent and food. That means a job at a fast-food joint, probably. Where the only animals in sight are leering customers. Besides, if she’s gone for six months instead of three, maybe her mother will figure out how to separate colors from whites in the wash.
Time for you to grow up, Mom.
She takes a deep breath. “Guess I’m going to India this summer.”
“Wonderful. I’ll call PG and tell him.”
ROBIN
INT. CORVETTE—NIGHT
A new message comes winging into his phone. It’s in the long-time small-group text with Brian, Martin, Ash, Gracie, and PG. This one’s from Gracie: Woo-hoo! Just asked my parents and they said I can go!
PG: That’s great, Gracie! And Ms. Vee called—Kat’s going with us, too! She even asked her mother and got permission already.
Robin looks up at his reflection again.
Hope feels risky. Maybe that’s why he so rarely lets himself feel it.
He holds up the phone and recites Ms. Vee’s message again, this time aloud, telling it to the face in the mirror. “Sometimes, you have to go back to the past to move forward into the future.”
Then he takes a breath, flips up the sun visor, and opens their group text.
I want to go, too, he thumbs.
Pauses.
And then hits SEND.
Almost immediately, a notification pops up: Brian Cleery has left the group. This six-member group has been in place for five years. How can Brian exit so suddenly?
If they notice his departure, the others don’t comment.
PG: YOU DO? I’m so glad, Robin! Have you cleared it with your parents?
About to tell them now, Robin replies.
Martin sends a fist. Awesome!
Ash sends the praying hands emoji, which is so unusual from her that it’s weirdly encouraging to Robin.
Gracie delivers five more rows of pink starry hearts, along with this: Your parents have always been 100% supportive. I’m sure they’ll say yes.
INT. THORNTON HOUSE—NIGHT
Robin’s mother and father are perched on stools at the kitchen island, sharing a bottle of red wine. He takes stock for a minute before they see him—two tall, smart, white people. Ever since he was three years old, they’ve been like those zany mirrors in amusement parks that are supposed to reflect you but don’t. It isn’t their fault.
The door closes behind him, and they stop talking and turn to him with smiles. Robin knows they’ve probably been discussing him again. They care so much, he thinks. Gracie’s right; they’re utterly supportive. He walks over so he’s standing between them.
His mother studies his expression. “What happened? You look … different. You’re not smoking anything, are you, Robin?”
“No, Mom. You’ve got to stop worrying so much. Look at all this gray,” Robin says, fiddling with the short curls on his mother’s head. He used to do this when he’d sit on her lap to look at a picture bo
ok.
“Okay, okay. I’ve got my salon appointment tomorrow, so hush up about the hair.”
His father’s also scrutinizing him. “Mom’s right. You do look different. Something good happen at small group?”
“It did,” Robin says, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Mom. Dad. I’m going back to Kolkata.”
His mother knocks over her wineglass. Good thing it’s empty. “Really, Robin? I’m so excited!”
She probably thinks they’re all going. That would make sense. Every now and then, they still bring up the possibility. And offer to help him search.
Better to try sooner than later, Dad always says. People get harder to find as time passes.
Maybe someday you’ll change your mind, Mom adds after Robin says no. We’re always ready to go back with you.
Well, someday is now, but he isn’t going back with them.
He reaches for the wineglass and puts it back upright. “PG’s taking a few of us this summer for a service trip. And … well, I think I want to try and search while I’m there.”
He watches his mother register that he’s not asking them to go along. Something flashes across her face for a split second—is it sadness?—but then she jumps up and hugs him. “Oh, Robin. That’s amazing! Edward, Robin’s going back to search!”
“Let’s keep the search part quiet for now, okay, Mom? I’d like to share that with people in my own way.”
Robin looks at his father’s face over his mother’s shoulder. Are those tears in Dad’s eyes? Is he, too, feeling hurt that their son is planning to go back without them?
But Dad stands up and throws his arms around both of them. “There are wonderful gifts waiting in Kolkata, son. Your mother and I sure came back with one.”
KAT
INT. GRANDMA VEE’S APARTMENT—DAY
Now that “going to India” is the plan, Kat doesn’t change her mind. That’s how she wins on the mat. Plans a move and sticks to it until her her hold gets broken. Then Filhote readjusts. Comes up with a new plan. Sticks to that, until her opponent manages to get loose again, or—preferably—surrenders.
Forward Me Back to You Page 5
