Neither of us mentioned what had happened that day. It was an unspoken pact.
And every Memorial Day after that, I knew better than to ask.
The cold war stretched all the way to my birthday, when Curtis appeared in front of me holding a bouquet of red roses.
"Willow, let's get married."
An old movie was playing on the TV behind us. The leads were kissing goodbye in the rain. It was his favorite film. We'd watched it together at least ten times.
When I didn't answer, he wrapped his arms around me from behind and pressed his chin against my shoulder. His voice was rough.
"I've been thinking about this for a long time. I always told myself I needed to give you the best of everything first."
"But now I just want to build a home with you. I want to wake up every morning and see your face."
I felt nothing. Not a ripple.
"Curtis, are you truly over Lena?"
A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, there and gone.
He cradled my face in both hands, pressing his forehead to mine.
"Willow, let the past stay in the past. Trust me."
On the surface, things went back to the way they'd been.
But I was the only one who knew there was no going back. I was just giving myself time to say goodbye in silence.