“You're allowed to feel however you want about her,” he responds with a kind smile, and I turn back around. “At first I thought you were fragile,” he says after a moment. “Like if I dropped you, you'd break. I think that's why…that's why I wanted to test you a little.”
“You mean when you felt me up at dinner with our parents sitting across from us?”
He laughs. “I can't believe I did that, and I don't think I've ever apologized.”
“No, you didn’t, jerk.”
“I am sorry.”
“So, you don't think I'm fragile now?”
“No. I think you're one of the toughest people I've ever met. Look!” he says suddenly. I glance back toward him and follow where's he's pointing. “A great blue heron,” he explains as I spot the huge bird with its wings spread, perched on a rock in the middle of the river. “That's how they dry their feathers after they dive for fish.”
He stops rowing for a while as we watch it. Suddenly it pulls its wings in, gathers itself like a coil, and launches into the air. We watch it fly into the distant treetops before we begin paddling up the river again.
“Why are you interested in history?” I ask him.
“I like understanding why people behave the way they do,” he explains quietly. I resist the urge to ask how this relates to his own history, trying to respect the boundaries he’s put up.
“How's Greg?” he asks suddenly. I turn around and narrow my eyes at him.
“What? That's a friendly question,” he says with a devilish grin.
“I…I don't want to talk about it,” I reply, a little more huffily than I intend to.
“OK…so that either means really good or really bad.”
“It's not really bad,” I protest.
“Uh-oh.”
I sigh. “It's just, there's no…you know…”
“Spark?”
“Exactly. I have to tell him soon—I don't want him to get hurt. Not that I think I'm breaking his heart or anything—”
“I saw the way he looks at you.”
“Meaning?”
“He's falling fast. I'd tell him before he falls any further.”
“I think you're exaggerating.”
“Trust me.”
We fall back into a comfortable silence as I think about his words. The stillness of the river, broken only by a soft wind blowing through the trees, helps to ease my anxiety over the conversation I need to have with Greg. The concept of “problems” seems to fade out here, though perhaps it’s the unrelenting heat, which feels like it's beginning to melt my body into the seat of the kayak. I grab the sweating bottle of water from between my feet and take a long swig.
“Water?” I ask Nate, turning to offer it to him. He takes it, brushing my fingers with his as he wraps his long fingers around it. My insides clench…speaking of a spark. I spot a house very much like ours up on a hillside in the distance. “Where'd you live before the house now?”
“Townhouse in Georgetown.” He says. “It was less of a behemoth. Had more character.”
“The mansion isn't your taste?”
“It was always big for two people, and it still seems big, even for four. But what I really don't like is that it's got all these fake historical touches about it, and none of them are genuine.”
“Anathema to a history major.”
“Exactly. I always pictured myself in a smaller house, maybe a converted barn or something…one that was actually built in the time period it looks like it was built in. Maybe somewhere quieter than DC…it's pretty elitist here…I want my kids to grow up more modestly than I did.”
“You want kids?” I ask, surprised.
“You don't?”
“No, I do…I'm just surprised. You know that having kids might necessitate being in a relationship with a woman for longer than you're used to.”
He laughs. “I honestly hadn't thought of that. I always just pictured myself with kids. Is that horrible?”
“Yes!” I reply, quickly reaching down and flinging water back at him.
“Hey!” he cries, and grabs the sides of the kayak, beginning to rock it back and forth. “I'll tip this thing over,” he warns me with a grin.
“Nate!” I protest, grabbing on. He relents, and keeps rowing after a moment.
“I think your mom picked the hottest day of the year,” he observes.
“Want to head back?” I ask, hoping he'll say no.
He pauses. “Guess we should.”
I nod, feeling disappointed, and dip my oar in the water to help him turn the kayak. Now that we're going with the current, it takes us much less time to make the return trip back to the boat house.