They had all seen the viral video by now, a clip of a young woman in South Africa calling upon her fellow youths to fight this new surge of prejudice.
The hashtag #StrungTogether, inspired by her speech, was trending across the globe, being used by people to share stories of different acts of compassion: Companies pledging to hire more short-stringers. A college moving up its graduation ceremony so a short-stringer student could receive his diploma along with his class. There was even a town in Canada where short-stringers were encouraged to publicly identify themselves so their neighbors could provide support. Ben recalled one post: What if we knew that our waiter, our cabdriver, our teacher, had a short string? Would we show them greater kindness? Would we pause before we acted? #StrungTogether. A handful of journalists and politicians had already deemed it a “movement.”
Later that evening, Ben stood next to Nihal.
“I think I might be coming around to what my parents said about rebirth,” Nihal told him.
“What do you think changed?” Ben asked.
“Something about seeing Lea, maybe. And these twins she’s about to give birth to, wondering where they came from,” said Nihal. “I mean, obviously we know where they came from physically, but what about their souls? That just feels like something separate from the body, something more . . . eternal. And why couldn’t they have lived before, and died before, and now they’re returning to earth again?”
Ben thought for a moment about the woman from the park in October, breathing the air through Hank’s lungs. Two people truly strung together, despite never having met.
“I think anything is possible,” Ben agreed.
Nihal smiled. “At least, after all we’ve been through, I bet every one of us will get to come back as friggin’ royalty.”
By the end of the session, Ben found himself sitting with Maura, as usual, while the group finished off the last crumbs of cake.
“Do you ever think about kids?” Maura asked him, glancing down at Ben’s sweater with a grin. “You kinda already dress like a dad.”
Ben laughed and looked over at Lea, cradling her stomach, swapping smiles with her brother. Ever since that day in the storage unit, Ben had been thinking more about it. Of course, he’d thought about the proms and graduations and weddings. Everything he wouldn’t get to see. He could still feel his chest constrict and a dark pit of bitterness swell up inside him whenever he thought of those things, and perhaps he always would. But he had discovered, recently, that he could calm himself down by thinking about all the other things—the ones he still might see, if he had children someday.
The first day of school. The dance recitals. The basketball games.
Sledding in the backyard. Trick-or-treating. Apple-picking in the fall.
The look on his parents’ faces when they hold their grandchild for the first time.
“Maybe I’ll be a dad . . .” Ben said. “But, hey, I’m not the one settling down, about to get married.”
“Ugh, don’t say it like that!” Maura cringed. “It makes me sound so old.”
But Ben could see past her horrified pretense. He could see that she was happy.
And Ben thought about all the sessions before this one, all the Sunday nights spent in sorrowful solidarity, all the stories they had shared in fear and anger, all the violence they had seen. Something about this night reminded Ben of his college professor, explaining Newton’s third law, pressing his hands against the blackboard to show how the wall pushed back on him. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Forces always come in pairs.
And now, at last, Ben could see the reacting force, pushing back against months of agony with a burst of brighter days. With this feeling, tonight, in Room 204.
Maura
Nina had planned an entire day of wedding activities—the florist, the caterer, the bakery, the dress shop—every errand crammed into a single Saturday to accommodate the imminent nuptials, mere weeks away.
When Maura walked into the kitchen that morning, cell phone in hand, Nina was already cooking scrambled eggs on the stovetop, eager for an early start.
“That was Terrell calling,” Maura said. “Apparently there’s a huge rally planned for this afternoon in D.C. He and Nihal are going to rent a car and drive down.”
“This is what, like, the third rally this month?” Nina asked. “Everyone at the magazine’s been talking about them. That girl’s video really did spark something.”
“Apparently this one was planned as just a small demonstration by the MLK statue, at the same time as a Rollins fundraiser nearby,” Maura explained. “But this Strung Together movement has really taken off online, and now it’s supposed to draw thousands.”