The Thread (23 page)

“God is justice,” Safira said. “God is the mother who will fight to the end for her child.”

“But—” Callie’s face wrinkled up. “But God is the
victim
. The child.” She turned to Richard. “That’s what you were saying yesterday. So how can God be both? And anger is—horrible. It’s what kills people. It’s not love.”

“No,” Mum said. “It is not.”

“Well, I don’t understand.” Callie sounded annoyed now.

Nani laughed. “No one does,
lal
, no one does.”

And then, as though they had all decided at the exact same moment, they stood up and went into the dining room to eat.

• • •

Afterward, Callie walked home with them, back to their building. She was ahead of Kirin on the sidewalk, talking to Mum. Behind them, Poppy and Nani were talking to each other, and Kirin was at the back of the line, his eyes on Carrie’s head. The sun hadn’t set yet, even though it was almost nine o’clock. The last light slid in golden bands between the dark buildings and caught fire in Carrie’s hair.

Nani was giggling at something Poppy was saying, and then she peered over her shoulder. “Are you back there, Kirin? We have not lost you, have we?”

“Nope.” And then he realized what she had said. “Nani? You know what you just said?”

She stopped walking and turned around. “What did I say,
lal
?”

The others stopped too, bunched together on the sidewalk. Kirin tried not to notice how close Callie was to him now.

“You called me by my name, Nani. You called me
Kirin
.”

His grandmother blinked. “So I did.” For a moment, her eyes filled with sadness. Then she held up her empty hands, her fingers spread, as though she had just let a bird fly free. “So I did, Kirin.”

They continued walking, but now they were rearranged. Mum and Nani were together, their arms linked. Poppy was walking alone at the back now. And Callie was beside Kirin. He stole tiny sideways glances at her, trying to think what he could say to show her how sorry he was.
I’ll never kiss you again. Just be my friend again.

But before he could open his mouth, her hand slipped into his, and he knew he didn’t need to say anything after all. They kept walking, holding tight to each other. Their joined hands formed something firm and solid between them, like a knot in a thread.