Birendra buckled himself in and lowered his tray table. The cup holder at the corner reminded him of the flight they’d taken from Delhi to New York on their way to Los Angeles—how there had been a bottle of water waiting for him then, how Mama Maddy had asked for a glass of Champagne for herself and orange juice for him. How she’d poured some of the orange juice into her glass and called it something else. Now there was no water, and Mama Maddy was holding only the monkey he’d given her on that same trip, twisting the tail with her finger, over and over, as she had been doing since they arrived at the airport gate. He worried that she was going to twist the tail right off, not because it couldn’t be fixed—his mother had fixed his Ganesh’s trunk more than once—but because he didn’t know how to fix it, and he didn’t know if Mama Maddy knew how to fix it, either.
“Aren’t we going to order orange juice et Champagne?” he asked.
“See what good care you take of me, Bindi?” she said and placed her hand on his knee. “No, sweetie, we’re not in first class this time.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“Just in case,” she said.
“In case what?”
“In case we’re ever broke,” she said, letting go of his knee and returning her attention to the monkey’s tail.
“Are we broke?”
“No, sweetie. We’re not broke. I’m being silly. In fact, I don’t know what possessed me to tell Paige to book economy,” she said.
He thought about it for a moment. “I think I was broke before, and it wasn’t so bad.”
This made her smile, which was good because he could see she was still worried. All week, she had tried to keep it from him, but he knew. Sometimes he heard her crying. And then she told him about the trip, and his aunt, and Uncle Eddie. And he thought, maybe Mr. Channar was right after all, but he didn’t know what would happen. It didn’t feel like he was in trouble. And Mama Maddy pinkie-promised she wasn’t angry. She was more sad, maybe. Finally he’d asked her if Aunt Nayana wanted him to move to West London, but this just upset her more. She asked if that was what he wanted. When he had been with the Nairs, after his mother died, it was different; he thought he would go live with his aunt and uncle because they were his only family. Mr. and Mrs. Nair were not, even though he knew them better than he knew his aunt and uncle, really. But things weren’t the same now. He had a family that he knew, in California. He had Mama Maddy and Uncle Eddie, too. He told her he thought he’d like to stay, and she said he made her “over-the-moon thrilled.” She still cried, but they were “happy tears.” She said she hoped he would never leave her. And that they would take care of each other forever. “Even when I’m old enough to take care of myself?” he’d asked. “Even then,” she answered.
Mama Maddy had finally stopped playing with the monkey’s tail and was now holding it still. She looked so peaceful, resting beside him with her eyes closed. He was going back to India, but it was okay. He was going back because Aunt Nayana had come after all. He hadn’t been wrong to believe she would. He didn’t exactly understand why Uncle Eddie and Aunt Nayana were in Varkala and not in West London. Mama Maddy said Uncle Eddie had gone to find his aunt. Didn’t that mean that Uncle Eddie knew, even when no one else did, that his aunt would want to see Birendra again, that he’d never been an orphan after all? But how did Uncle Eddie know she was in India? Or did they go there together? Why didn’t they come to Los Angeles instead? He would definitely ask them the story of how they found each other and why they ended up in India together rather than England. Even if they wouldn’t tell him the whole story—adults can be so mysterious sometimes—he was glad they were all going to be there together.
He looked at the map in the airline magazine and traced his finger along the coast of India, where he thought Varkala was. It seemed so far away, and he’d been gone for such a long time already. He thought of his mother, almost forgetting that he wouldn’t be seeing her again. Aunt Nayana would be there, though, and she was his mother’s twin. It was funny that he never thought of them in the way he thought of other twins, like Kelli and Allison at his school. He couldn’t really tell them apart, but his mother and aunt had always been different to him in his mind. Lately, though, when he thought of his mother, he struggled to remember every detail as he used to. What if the time that had passed since his mother died made his aunt seem less different somehow? He remembered the last time he’d seen her. They were saying good-bye at the end of her visit, at the airport. She’d bent down and kissed him and told him to be good, and he had been. She’d told him to take care of his mother, and he had tried. He knew it wasn’t his fault she had to go away, just as it wasn’t her fault for leaving. She’d been watching out for him in the end.
Would they all visit Mr. and Mrs. Nair in Varkala? Would they stay at his old house? He would like to see his neighbors again. He had so many questions he wanted to ask Mama Maddy. He leaned closer, trying to determine if she was asleep. A flight attendant stopped in the aisle and asked him to put up his tray. They would be taking off soon. He looked at the map again, now resting on his lap. The plane began to back up slowly. They were going back to Varkala. Maybe they could visit his old school on their way from the airport. What time would they arrive? He wanted to take them to meet Mr. Mon, who was sure to be impressed by Birendra’s English now. And Birendra could ask for the family report he’d written and give it to his aunt and uncle to keep with them in West London. He would have to write a new one now. He wished he’d thought of it before leaving Los Angeles so he could have brought it along for Mr. Mon, to tell him about his new school and Mama Maddy and Uncle Eddie.
He loosened his seat belt and lifted himself up on the arms of his seat so he could look for the flight attendant. As quickly as he could, he unbuckled himself and retrieved his backpack from below. He pulled his dictée notebook out, along with his pencil, then replaced the bag and buckled himself in just as the plane began to move faster down the tarmac. Mama Maddy opened her eyes sleepily and smiled at him. He was safe, but he had to wait until the plane was in the air, flying smoothly, and for the bell to ding, before he could lower the tray again. He looked out the window. The plane pulled away from the runway, and he was soon trying to pick out buildings he could recognize below. The angle of the plane changed so fast that it was a challenge. When it leveled, all he could see out his window was the ocean, which he knew went all the way to India because he’d learned in world geography that all oceans are connected. When the bell rang and the flight attendant began to speak, he lowered his tray and opened his notepad to a new page. In his best cursive—much improved since he’d left Mr. Mon’s English class the year before—he began to write.
