"Like the survival instincts that get passed down or those bad memories that trains future generations to fear certain places. It's all genetic. It's written into our DNA."
"The memories?"
"That's one theory, yeah." Her frown deepened and I shot her a smile, banking on the way she'd told me my smile made her feel to push the cloud from us. "Maybe you don't like heights or fear water because your grandfather did. Maybe you feel that familiar sense in a place because once upon a time someone in your gene pool died there or was hurt there. Our life experiences affect how often certain proteins are created from our genes, when the genes are "read." A certain experience can trigger a negative or positive reaction."
"You make it sound so impersonal."
"Not at all," I told her, keeping the small grin on my face. She unraveled her arms when I tugged on the sheet and I breathed a little easier. "It's absolutely personal. It's your family." She might have let me touch her again, but even me moving my thumb across her knuckles didn't take the tight line from her forehead or pull the frown from her lips. "But, then there is about ninety-eight percent of data we don't know about DNA and genetics. There's a lot of room for error."
"So it could be much more than survival instincts."
I was careful then, moving my head to watch her, cautious but still smiling. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just oxytocin kicks in and you get a rush of warmth and connection because something triggered it. There's just no real way to know for sure."
"So a rush of warmth? Like … like love?" She kept her face impassive, without any real emotion at all when she asked that and her reaction surprised me. Willow was an earth child. She loved auras and juju. She bought organic groceries and recycled. She protested at marches and volunteered at shelters. No one that does that is missing emotion. No one like Willow lives without love.
"Something like love. Isn't it?"
"I … " Again she curled her arms in front of her chest, this time tighter, brushing her fingers up and down her arms as though she was cold. "I couldn't tell you."
"Come on, Will. You told me your folks have been together forever. You said they get along really well. You told me … " I stopped talked when she shook her head. "What?"
"They make it impossible."
"Your folks?"
She nodded and kept rubbing her arms. I wanted to pull her close, warm her against my chest but she suddenly didn't look interested in being comforted.
"Every day of my life. They couldn't go long without touching. They'd be sitting there on the front porch, maybe at the kitchen table doing nothing at all … not touching, not looking at each other, reading the paper or doing a crossword, nothing spectacular. He'd hum, she'd whistle and out of nowhere, for no particular reason at all, he'd stop, grin at her and keep silent. But I knew, anyone would know. It was right there in his eyes. Just looking at her, made him smile and that smile told the world he was thinking, 'My God, I love her.'"
"What's so impossible about that?"
"Because it doesn't happen like that." She pushed off from the window, tugging the sheet higher over her shoulders. "Not for anyone but them. Not for normal people. They set the bar pretty damn high, the way they love each other; like that's all they know-how to love each other when it's a Tuesday, when it's quiet and still. How to say I love you without a single sound." She shook her head like she was frustrated and I could only watch her, wondering how she could make something like loving someone seem so ridiculous. Wasn't that my job? "That's not usual and when I bother to think about it, I realize that I probably won't reach that bar."
Until that moment I didn't realize I hadn't been the only one running from life. Running from something good and real.
"You don't believe in love?" Willow moved her mouth, lips pressed together, answering my question with a single look, one I hated seeing on her face. "I can't believe that."
"And I can't believe you don't believe it's possible that we knew each other before." She stepped closer, that sheet falling from her shoulder. "Nash, if there's still ninety-eight percent of data undiscovered then it's possible you're wrong."
"Possible," I said, not liking how she doubted me. "Just not probable."
"That's not … " She took a breath and her eyes went cool, glistened against the moonlight moving in through the window. "It's ridiculous that you hold on to beliefs that haven't been proven."
"Says the woman who claims to read auras." I hadn't meant to make my voice so loud or insulting. But it was out there, right along with the cool air that circulated around my apartment as Willow stood across from me shivering. "Look, Will … " she held up a hand, quieting me when I moved to interrupt.