Page 56 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"My mother jumped off a ship," I blurted.

"Is that why water makes you nervous," he asked."

I shook my head. "We were on vacation before that. I nearly drowned. Then there was this boy Evan," my voice broke.

Houston could have pushed, could have rushed me but he did not. He waited patiently for me to continue.

"Anyway, I’ve never felt safe on water again."

He squeezed my hand gently, probably to give comfort—to let me know he was listening. I should have moved my hand, but instead, I kept talking. "We were on vacation in Bacalar, at the spot we went every summer. I hated going, because of that time I almost drowned."

Houston drew slow circles around my knuckles. I know it was meant to soothe me, but my heart raced.

"You almost drowned?" he asked.

I nodded. "My mother didn’t die that summer. It was two years later."

"Your memory is coming back," he said, hope lingering in his voice. "Do you remember your mother’s name?"

My chest tightened, realizing I’d shared too much. I was supposed to have no memories and now I’d contradicted that. I clutched at the necklace then, willing the memory to go away, but it wouldn’t. I could feel her now, like an alarm in my brain trying to tell me something.

"Why did you get on this ride with me?" I asked suddenly.

He looked as if he was searching for the words and failing. "I realized something about myself tonight."

"Tell me."

"You asked me if I was all right when you didn't have to. Nobody does that." He was dodging the question.

"Surely your fiancé asks you?"

I’d meant it in jest, but the look he gave me said otherwise. I opened my mouth—to say what, I wasn't sure. Something kind, something that could soothe the hurt in him.

Just then, the pedals gave way, lurching back to life with great effort from us. We took that opportunity to pedal like our lives depended on it.

I tightened my hand on the bar and Houston’s hand tightened over mine, reflexively. He didn’t release me until the ferry descended in a slow, inevitable arc, to face Tulsa. The city rose up to meet us the way reality always does. Houston shouldn’t touch me, and more importantly, I shouldn’t want him to—but I did.

Neither of us spoke, and I became very conscious of the exact distance between his shoulder and mine.

As the swan boat glided through the water, I noted how the Greenwood District beamed in the distance, full of life and culture, music climbing towards us. The newly built Stradford Hotel lit up the sky. The hotel was really something to behold, rivaling the white establishments nearby, its sign a burning light in the darkness.

"The skyline," I said, because I needed to say something as my heart raced inside my chest.

Houston didn't look at it. He turned his face towards me. "Yes."

"You said I should see it."

"Yes."

"You're not looking at it."

"No. I'm not." A moment passed. "Do you want me to?"

I swallowed, knowing what I truly wanted, but then I whispered, "No."

"Gema." He said my name like he was asking permission, testing whether I’d push back.

I turned my attention from the skyline to him, and that was the mistake, because looking at him meant confronting my own feelings. His eyes never left mine as we swayed in the water, the entire world seeming to hold its breath with me.