“Is it all right if I wear this over my head?” Bontu asks. He pulls out a stocking to show Kat. “I wouldn’t want any of the Asha House girls to be terrified if they meet me in real life.”
“Let’s see?”
He tugs it over his head so that it smashes his features into an unrecognizable mishmash. “Ugly bank robber?” he asks, and even his voice sounds different.
“It’s perfect,” Kat says. “Keep it on.”
Miss Shireen has agreed to a “meeting” with the three of them at nine o’clock, even though she has no idea what it’s about. Kat is about to leave to get her when Gracie stops her.
“I want you to know that no matter what happens, Kat, I’ve had an awesome time learning BJJ. You’re a great professor.”
“Thanks, Fogo. Let’s do this thing.”
When Miss Shireen comes in, she greets Gracie and then catches sight of Bontu with his stocking mask. “Who is this man? What is he doing here? And why is he wearing that?”
He pulls it off immediately. “I’m Bontu, ma’am. Remember me?”
“Oh, thank goodness. Shen’s nephew. But why are you here?”
Kat clears her throat. “You told me you’d be open to seeing self-defense in action, Miss Shireen. Well, today we want to show you how a petite girl can break free from a much bigger man. Bontu has agreed to take the role of Gracie’s attacker. Will you watch?”
“Why, Kat? I’m not going to change my mind.”
“I figured you might say that. But I still want you to see this demo.”
“Does your father know you’re here, Bontu?” Miss Shireen asks.
“Er … No, ma’am, but he is a big supporter of self-defense for women. He helped to launch the department’s project. It teaches schoolgirls to protect—”
“Yes, yes, I know what it does.” After one long, appraising look at all of them, Miss Shireen shrugs and tips her head slightly to signify a yes. “All right, Kat. I’m very busy today, but I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”
“It won’t take long, Miss Shireen—under five for the whole demo. Why don’t you sit here, in this chair?”
The older woman sighs but takes a seat.
Kat takes a deep breath and opens the smartphone camera. “Okay, you two, take the mat.”
Bontu pulls his mask back on, and he and Gracie bow, step on the mat, high-five, fist-bump, and kneel side by side, this time facing Miss Shireen and Kat.
“Act it out, you two,” Kat instructs, and then starts recording. “First, a Kimura,” she says into the phone.
As they practiced, Bontu sits on top of Gracie and Gracie wraps her legs around Bontu’s body. Gracie’s face takes on a terrified expression. She starts writhing and protesting. This helps Bontu remember his part, too. He snarls and lifts a threatening fist in the air, shouting at her in Bangla.
Kat hears a small “oh” of surprise from Miss Shireen. He does look evil, Kat thinks, but she keeps recording. The good thing is that it’s clear he isn’t making it easy on the girl underneath him. He’s using all of his bulk and weight to keep her pinned.
But Fogo knows what to do. It doesn’t take much time for her to get up on her elbow. Turning her body so that her right hip is out from under his, she grabs his wrist, clutches her own, and then twists and falls back. After a few seconds in that uncomfortable position—which he recognizes this time around—Bontu pats her back twice for release. Gracie lets go and stands up while Bontu hams it up for the camera, clutching his shoulder, and throwing himself around in pretend pain on the mat.
A Kimura, perfectly executed, just as it was so many months ago now in that Sanger stairwell. Kat feels like cheering, but one glance at Miss Shireen’s stony face restrains her. Besides, she’s still recording.
Okay, moving on. “Next, a mount escape,” Kat says into the phone.
This time Bontu sits on top of Gracie, pinning her legs. The stocking over his head can’t mask the expression of deranged rage on his face. Gracie is acting like she’s going for an Oscar, shaking her head back and forth, shouting, and pretending to cry. Kat registers Miss Shireen’s second sharp intake of breath, but she keeps circling and recording.
Gracie’s legs are trapped, but she uses her foot to hook Bontu’s, bridges her hips, and rolls. Bontu lands with a hard “oof” on his back, and Gracie’s up on her feet and running to the far side of the room in no time.
A perfect mount escape.
Miss Shireen’s expression doesn’t change.
“Last, the triangle choke,” Kat tells Bontu’s phone.
This is the move that’s given Gracie the most trouble—probably because she hates inflicting any kind of pain. You can do it, Fogo! Kat thinks, trying to send her student good energy. She keeps recording as they get in their start positions again—Gracie on her back, Bontu on top. For some reason, in this third pose, he really looks violent, even to Kat. Miss Shireen’s shocked gasp resounds through the room.
That didn’t sound good, Kat thinks. But her pupil is concentrating so fiercely it doesn’t stop the demonstration. Gracie executes perfectly. Within seconds, she’s squeezing Bontu’s neck between a triangle of her thighs so tightly that he gasps for air and taps twice. Once again, she’s on her feet in triumph, with Bontu on the mat massaging his throat and taking deep gulps of air.
Kat stops recording and turns to their audience of one. “Well, what do you think, Miss Shireen? If Gracie can defend herself from a big attacker like that, don’t you think your girls will want to learn how, too? I’ve recorded the demo if you want to show it to them. You can tell them you saw it in real life, and that we didn’t fake anything.”
But Miss Shireen’s rising to her feet.
She’s frowning.
Her head is figure-eighting.
Could be yes, could be no, but something—that last gasp, maybe?—tells Kat her Plan C, her beautiful Plan C, is crashing to the ground harder than Bontu just did.
“I warned you that this wasn’t a good idea,” Miss Shireen says. “Do you really think a counselor would let me show something like this to abused girls? Some of them wake up screaming at the memory of men on top of them. I’m sorry you wasted your time, you two. I wish you’d heeded me, Kat.”
And with that, she stalks out.
RAVI
INT. BOSE FLAT—DAY
No sign of Sarker at the Royal Diadem. Ravi’s starting to feel like Kat was right—he’s living in some kind of superhero fantasy world. Capturing a villain doesn’t happen in real life. Not for Ravi Thornton, anyway.
Hopefully Kat’s plans will turn out better than his; he can’t wait to hear how the demo went. But on Saturday, while he’s still in bed, the girls call early—Kat’s not feeling well and Gracie’s staying with her, Mira tells Ravi when he comes into the kitchen. Did something bad happen? Was the demo a total disaster? Bontu might be able to tell him, but he wants to hear about it from Kat. He’ll just have to wait. He borrows Arjun’s phone to text a message, telling Bontu that they can’t make it to their second-to-last Saturday outing.
On Sunday, Kat doesn’t show up to church. Not a good sign, Ravi thinks. As he rides back to the Bose flat for lunch, he remembers when she told him about what happened in Oakland. Poor Nefertiti. She had such high hopes that coming to Kolkata might help her recover. He knows exactly how it feels when hopes shatter.
“How’d it go on Friday?” he asks Gracie as soon as she walks in the front door.
“Terrible,” Gracie says, sighing. “Miss Shireen nixed Kat’s plan. I kind of figured she would. I should have warned Kat, I guess, but I was so eager to learn the moves myself I didn’t want our training to stop.”
“You’re so good. Kat did an amazing job teaching you. Hope I get to see her soon.” Kat was there for me; I want to be there for her.
“All that hard work didn’t matter in the end. Not for her, anyway. She’s crushed. It’s probably good we’re going back to Boston soon. Maybe Ms. Vee can work some of her feel-good magic again be
fore Kat heads home to California.”
“Lunchtime,” Mira calls.
The conversation around the table doesn’t flow like it usually does. The twins are out. PG keeps yawning. Ravi knows that Gracie’s worried about Kat. So is he. But what’s wrong with Arjun and Mira?
“Why so quiet, Arjun Uncle?” he asks.
“Court date’s coming up,” Arjun says. “Kavita still hasn’t decided to testify. Shen thinks this man is going to slip right through our fingers without her as a witness.”
“The courts let girls sit behind a screen, right?” PG asks.
“Right,” Arjun says. “But time’s running out, and I’m not sure what she’ll decide to do. Shireen’s letting her make up her own mind.”
“As she should,” Mira says.
“And what about the baby?” Ravi can’t help asking. “What’s going to happen to Shiuli?”
Mira sighs. “The babies. Most vulnerable of all, aren’t they?”
“How will Kavita manage to support herself AND a baby?” Gracie asks. “Can the Bengali Emancipation Society help her?”
“Our goal is always family preservation first,” Arjun says.
“Keeping the babies with their mothers?” Ravi asks.
“Right. We’re discussing some possibilities: partnering with an organization that trains and funds foster families, renting another house somewhere for our mothers to stay and raise their babies in safety, finding sponsors to provide financial support so the girls can educate their children. But it’s only in the visioning stage for now.”
Suddenly Ravi flashes back to a square embossed envelope with his name on it. “Maybe we can still be a part of it after we get back to the States,” he says. “Raise some money to help with any option you choose?”
“Great idea, Ravi,” PG says. “Our people love to give; I’m sure they’ll come through. Does that sound helpful, Arjun?”
“Definitely,” Arjun answers. “I’d like to get our organization to the place where we can pay for programs like this without money from abroad, but we’re not there yet.”
“I hear you, brother. Besides, we need you just as much as you need us. Money’s not the only gift that changes lives. Maybe we can launch a foundation to partner with BES.”
Ravi thinks of the hotel—HER hotel. “What about naming it the ‘Royal Diadem Foundation’?”
PG turns to him. “You’ve been reading your Bible, kiddo!”
“Er—I have?”
“That’s in the Book of Isaiah. ‘You will be a crown of splendor in the Lord’s hands, a royal diadem in the hand of your God.’ And then the next verse says: ‘No longer will they call you “Deserted,” or your name “Desolate.”’”
“It’s a perfect name,” says Gracie, smiling at Ravi.
KAT
INT. ASHA HOUSE BABY CARE ROOM—DAY
Kat stays in the baby room on Monday morning, sending the housemothers off for a rest. With three little ones in their care now, she spins through them systematically, taking turns feeding, burping, and changing them.
No more BJJ training with Gracie, she thinks, rocking Diana as she finishes her bottle. Without that, what’s the point of going to Bangla class? She’s not been a very good language learner; it’s their last lesson anyway.
They still have a week or so left in India, but Kat’s checking out early. At least mentally. This Kolkata match is over. She wants to get on the next plane and go home.
Home to Oakland, where she belongs. Or where she used to belong, before—
She gets up, puts Diana in her crib, and picks up Logan and his bottle. More rocking. If the zoo doesn’t hire me back, I’ll have to find a job somewhere else.
Shiuli’s diaper needs changing. Kat does it on autopilot now. No idea what I’m going to say in those stupid college essays. Maybe she’ll drop out of Sanger and finish her senior year at the neighborhood school.
Shiuli takes her time to finish her bottle. I’ll tell Saundra that I’m quitting BJJ—no use in trying to get to black belt. I’d have to spar with a lot of men to get to that level.
I tap out, she thinks, putting Shiuli gently down in her crib.
Looks like all three babies are finally asleep. Maybe she should head back to Miss Shireen’s cottage and start packing her suitcases. Just then, Baby Logan opens his eyes. At the sight of Kat’s face, he reaches up his arms with a happy gurgle. He doesn’t need a feed, or a burp, or a new diaper. Must just want a cuddle. Kat picks him up and holds him close.
RAVI
INT. BENGALI EMANCIPATION SOCIETY HEADQUARTERS—DAY
Ravi is late to their last Bangla class of the summer, but it doesn’t matter much. Kat is nowhere in sight. Hope she’s feeling better, he thinks. Mrs. Gupta isn’t there yet. Gracie is asleep with her head on the table. Must have been a rough baby-tending night last night. Or else she stayed up with Kat, trying to comfort her. That’s something Gracie would do.
Ravi heads to his usual spot, trying not to wake her, but he accidentally jostles her chair. A book slips out of her lap. He picks it up and glances at the cover. She’s been reading this? Bap-re-BAP. It’s a graphic novelization of a movie. She must have bought it at that comic book shop, and the word graphic fits perfectly. Island Rajah is the title, and a buxom, sari-clad woman is leaning back against a shirtless hero, whose eight-pack abs glisten under a flower garland. The gleaming-skinned, muscular hero looks familiar. Yes. Starring Amit Biswas as “the Rajah,” it says.
Ravi takes a closer look at the abs. Thanks to his workouts with Shen, Biswas and Thornton look even more alike now than at the beginning of the summer.
Gracie’s head flies up. “Ravi!”
He hands back the book. “Spicy content, Ms. Rivera.”
“Oh, you know … I only bought it because … well, he does remind me of you. Especially on that cover.” She isn’t looking at him now; her long eyelashes are resting on smooth, soft cheeks. Her lips are a dark pink color, even without any lipstick.
Exactly the same hue as her shalwar kameez.
They’re finally alone. This seems like the perfect time to do what he’s been wanting to do for weeks now. But his stomach is dancing like it’s auditioning for Bollywood. His skin is sizzling again.
He takes a step closer.
She stands.
Their eyes meet.
He smiles, and decides to risk it. “I’d try to be your Island Rajah any day, but is Ravi Thornton good enough?”
She smiles back. “More than good enough. He’s perfect.”
He leans in, Gracie tips her head back, and he does what his look-alike never gets to do, at least on-screen: kiss a leading lady on the mouth, sweet, deep, and long.
Shazam.
Gracie’s arms curve around Ravi’s body.
He pulls her even closer.
This is Gracie, his friend.
This is Gracie, his beloved.
With her in his arms, Ravi feels like he can take on a hundred villains at once. Even if he never gets to in real life.
They look into each other’s eyes. Neither of them notices Mrs. Gupta walking in.
“You two are looking exactly like a Bollywood fillum,” she says, giggling like one of the girls who ask Ravi for autographs.
KAT
INT. ASHA HOUSE BABY CARE ROOM—DAY
“Our last Bangla lesson!” Gracie says, bursting into the baby room. “I can’t believe we’re heading home so soon. Everyone said to say goodbye to you, Kat—Gopal, Mrs. Gupta, everyone.”
Kat’s still rocking babies. She’s been there the whole day. She can’t seem to make herself leave. Holding small bodies in her arms, feeding them, keeping them dry and warm—these are the only things she still feels like doing.
She looks up from Baby Diana’s face. Weird. Gracie looks even more like Bonita Juarez than usual. “What happened to you? You’re smiling like this baby after one of her massive burps.”
Gracie blushes and picks up Shiuli. “Ravi kissed me,” she says sof
tly, as if she’s telling the baby, not Kat. “It was … incredible. One kiss, and then Mrs. Gupta came in.”
“Took you guys long enough,” Kat says.
Logan starts wailing, so Gracie bends over the cribs to switch babies.
Kat closes her eyes and rests her cheek against Diana’s.
Is there a kiss like Ravi and Gracie’s in her future? She doubts it.
If you can’t stand a man’s touch, he’d better not kiss you.
RAVI
INT. KOLKATA POLICE TRAINING CENTER—DAY
Ravi hasn’t seen Gracie after that amazing Monday moment. No more Bangla lessons, so she’s been sticking around Asha House to keep Kat company. And Ravi hasn’t seen Kat at all—not since the Thursday before her failed demo.
“You taking us out again this Saturday, Bontu?” he asks, toweling off in the locker room after powering through his thirty-fifth—and second-to-last—workout with Shen.
Bontu’s head pops out of the shower stall. “Certainly. And tomorrow, if you’re free, let’s take a last ‘men-only’ sightseeing trip, Ravi. We can go to a comedy show, and—”
“Er … I have plans,” Ravi says.
Bontu’s poking a towel-covered finger into each ear to dry them off. “Where do you go every Friday, anyway? It’s a big mystery. I’ve been thinking of all kinds of possibilities. Let me join you tomorrow. Please, Ravi.”
“I go to a tea shop and study Bangla,” Ravi says, sitting on the bench facing the panel of lockers. “Not too exciting.”
“What’s the name of this shop?” Bontu asks, pulling on his shirt and pants. Ravi can tell that he’s shifting into tour guide mode.
“I don’t really know the name. The sign’s in Bangla, which I can’t read. Not yet, anyway. It’s across the street from a hotel, and it serves really good cardamom-spiced chai.”
“What’s the name of the hotel?”
“Er … it’s called the Royal Diadem Society Guesthouse.”
Forward Me Back to You Page 25
