We falter at first, zigging and zagging, unable to maintain momentum. And the current certainly doesn’t do us any favors, pushing us in the opposite direction of where we want to go. But after a while, I get the hang of it. Though I can barely hear his count anymore. He’s at full volume, but it’s no use. The wind is quieter, no longer the angry monster I’d heard outside the guest bedroom window, but it’s still a force to be reckoned with. It seems to want to remind us of that, as a sudden gust blows our way, making the canoe rock slightly. It doesn’t do more than that. Just a wobble. But it’s enough to send my heart into my throat.
I can’t help but feel like the storm is toying with us. Like the spider that lured the fly. We stepped into its parlor and now it’s going to play with us before it has its meal. It wants to have some fun.
I peer over the side of the canoe as I draw my paddle through the water. I don’t know how deep it is here. I can’t see the concrete of the street at the bottom. Can’t see much at all really. The water’s too cloudy to make anything out.
The next stroke takes me longer than normal, but I push through. My fingers are starting to feel numb, my arms burning. For the first time in my life I wish I’d used that strange rowing machine at the gym. I’d never understood it before. Never understood why anyone would want to sit on a bench and pretend to row a boat. Now I get it. I’m never going to skip over that machine again.
“You okay?” Nikhil shouts. “We’re almost there.”
“I’m good,” I try to shout back over my shoulder, but I’m clearly not because my lungs hurt from the effort, the words coming out in a wheeze.
Nikhil slows the count and his pace, but it’s no use. My arms are like jelly.
We’re off count, zigging and zagging again, being pushed by the current.
“Put your paddle up,” Nikhil says. “Take a break.”
Relief sweeps through me. I yank my paddle out of the water, placing it across my lap. Nikhil starts alternating strokes, and we continue moving forward, but I barely notice. I slouch a bit, taking deep, long breaths, and getting my bearings.
We’re smack-dab in the center of the cul-de-sac. Not as close as Nikhil has said we were. More like halfway there.
The street has never felt this long before. But then again, I’ve never traveled it by boat.
“Okay,” I call out, a minute or two later, looking back at Nikhil. “I’m ready.”
His mouth flattens. “I’ll get us the rest of the way there, okay?”
I shake my head. “I can do it.” I force my fingers around the paddle, trying not to wince at how tender my skin is. My palms are sure to blister tomorrow.
The current takes us a little off course and I turn to see Nikhil stick his paddle in the water. He does something fancy with it. It looks like a normal stroke, but then he keeps the paddle in longer at the end and twists it a bit, like a rudder, which miraculously turns our canoe back in the right direction.
Before I can ask how he did that, he thrusts the paddle back in, resuming his strokes.
I move to do the same, but he’s stopped counting. I try to catch the rhythm, try to get the timing right before I begin again, but then he pulls his paddle out, pivots, and begins paddling on the other side.
Oh. He’s alternating strokes. He really is planning on doing this alone.
“I can help, Nikhil,” I shout. “I’m ready now.”
“No. It’s fine. I’ve got it,” he calls back.
Frustration flares in my chest. I’m about to yell back that I can do it, but then he says two words that stop me in my tracks. “Trust me.”
That’s the whole problem, isn’t it? The whole reason why we’re in this mess in the first place. I don’t.
How do you trust someone when they never lower any of their defenses? When they never let you in? How can you trust someone who expects your trust, but clearly doesn’t trust you in return? How can you trust someone who pulls away when you need them most?
I stick my paddle in the water and put my whole body weight into it, giving the hardest push I’ve managed so far.
We careen forward, the canoe shaking slightly, and Nikhil raises his voice. “Meena! Stop.” I pivot around and watch his eyes flash, his tone hard and bitter when he says, “I know you think I can’t do much, Meena, but I promise you, I can do this. I can get us there.”
What is he even talking about? Of course hecanget us there. That doesn’t mean he has to do it without me. I’m prepared to say as much, but the current takes us again. Moving us sideways. Undoing the progress Nikhil had made on his own.
He glares at me, then lifts his paddle. He’s probably about to do the same maneuver from before to correct our course. The rudder one. The one I wanted him to show me.
“Wait,” I say. “How do you—”
Lightning-fast movement catches the corner of my eye. My gaze follows. Something’s traveling across the surface of the water. Moving far faster than the branches and leaves and debris I’d seen before.
