Page 128 of Meet Me on Greenwood

Gema

Are You For a Greater Tulsa? It’s up to You Mr. Voter

It had been a month since I’d awakened in the hospital—since the last time I’d kissed the man I loved. I spent countless hours searching for Houston, but he was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he’d found another to love. Maybe he’d married and taken their name. Part of me hoped so, and the other part hated the thought of it.

I was packing the last of my bags, ready to finally go home to Minnesota. Though, as Bri reminded me when I’d come to visit, my home was Maise’s couch. She had a point. I didn’t have a job to go back to. The ORI had been sold off in a multiple bid auction. I didn’t even own the rights to it anymore, so I did my best to sabotage the technology before it was handed over. I spent much of my life developing the ORI and I’d be damned if I let it go without a fight. Though any good software engineer could easily fix it as I’d been very transparent on my processes and findings in published journals.

So why was I going back? For one, I had to meet the CEO of the company who was buying my invention, so I could officially hand over the equipment and give them the keys to the building. But beyond that, it was hard to explain to Bri, and even harder still to explain to myself. Staying in Tulsa hurt too much. Things were different now in the present. As I drove through Greenwood, I smiled seeing how the Black community had been able to retain much of its wealth, and how many of the buildings that had been burned down were now rebuilt. I passed by the Stratford, which started out at four stories, and was now looked to be nearly eighteen stories tall, rivaling the Mayo Hotel. Next to it was a distillery with a large sign with their premium whiskey, Hidden Gem. The Dreamland Theatre was also standing, though the marquee suggested it was being used mostly for live music and overpriced weddings.

Then there was the Alderman estate. I’d read in the newspaper archives that the family had been able to buy up most of the block. I looked at the sprawling landscape behind the gold tipped gates. It made me happy to think Rita was able to finally live in her castle and pass it down to her family.

I circled the area a few more times, reluctant to leave. I had maybe an hour before I needed to be at the airport but brought the car to a screeching halt as I saw a sign that piqued my interest.

It read: Gemini Park.

I’d never seen it before. I followed the signs until they led me to an area that was vaguely familiar. As I walked towards the park, I realized that I had been there before, but it looked a lot different now. Back in 1920, it had been a small lot hidden between buildings, but now those buildings were gone, and what was left was a beautifully manicured green space. I walked the path, enjoying the sun on my skin until I reached the shade of a long canopy draped with wisteria hanging from the branches overhead.

Beyond that, a large sunken theater had been built where people could bring their kids or pets, and have a nice picnic while enjoying live music. There was a restaurant on top of the hill that read The Williams Café. Further down, was a carnival area with food trucks lining the streets, and ferry boats that could be taken on the Arkansas River.

But what stopped me dead in my tracks was a fountain. Kids were jumping in and out of it as water leaped up at varying heights. They were focused on the water, but I was focused on the statue that was the focal point. It stared back at me with a distinct likeness to Houston. He wore his glasses with his sleeves were rolled up, and he was on his knee holding hands with another figure. I gasped.

"Hello, Miss," a young boy, maybe nine or ten, asked from the fountain. He pointed at the statue. "Is that you?"

"No sweetie," a woman called out as she chased a little girl through the water. “Remember, the plaque says that is Paul Hatley, Jr. and his wife Gemini.”

My hands flew to my face as I read the plaque: To my beloved Gemini. I look forward to the day that we meet again on Greenwood. Until then, I built this place for you. - Paul Hatley, Jr.

"What do you think?" a voice asked.

I turned my head around slowly, knowing exactly who it belonged to. It had only been a month, or several decades, depending on how you looked at it, but it didn’t matter.

My gaze collided with Houston’s, his face half hidden beneath a thick russet beard. I was holding back tears, but barely. He looked just the same, like he hadn’t aged a day.

"How?" It was all I could manage.

He undid the top button of his shirt and behind the engagement ring he’d given me that rested on a chain was my mother’s amulet. His voice was thick. "I don’t know. The amulet took me from place to place, all over the world until I ended up here, during this time, during your time. I don’t understand it, but I thought perhaps…" his eyes strayed to me. "Perhaps, it was you somehow, leading me to this moment."

Though there were kids frolicking in the fountain behind us, and parents chasing after them, we only had eyes for each other.

"Gemini." He walked towards me and I did the same, as if my body was drawn to his, like there was a magnetic force that refused to let us move apart from one another. "I’ve missed you!" he said, embracing me. I fell into him, as if he were a puzzle piece that fit into me perfectly.

We just stood there in each other’s arms until I couldn’t help but look into his face because I missed it so much. I reached up to touch his beard. It was softer than it looked.

"This is new," I murmured.

"It helps me look older," he said, reaching up to touch it. "Do you like it? I can shave it."

The roughness of it, the texture, awakened a memory. "I’ve known you a long time, haven’t I?"

"I kept my distance," he said quietly. "It wasn't easy. There were moments I almost—" He stopped. Pressed his lips together. "I understand how that must sound…"

"You were the one who pulled me out of the water," I said, cutting him off.

"I remembered where you said you spent your summers. I didn’t realize I’d be there to save you."

"The shooting range?" I asked.

"I had no idea if you’d come when I built it, but I hoped."