The Tides That Bind Us [AfroFuturism]

Not All Family Is Blood

Uncle Cam held her at arm's length, a small smile gracing his lips and eyes crinkled at the corners. "There's a lot we need to discuss. But later." He nodded to the Audi, still in the middle of the street, and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Right." Zaharah swiped at her tears. "We'll see you guys later." She jogged back over to the Audi and hopped in. It took a moment to compose herself, to stop the residual shock of getting her memory back. Her hands still hadn't stopped shaking, but she hit the console anyway and got them back on their way.

"Are you okay?" Pharah asked. Other questions danced in her eyes and by the way her lips were pressed together, she had a hard time keeping them in.

"I'm fine. Just a little shaken up." She glanced at the GPS to ensure she hadn't missed a turn. Her heart was still racing in her chest and her breathing still shallow, but a warmth filled her chest. And for the first time since last week, she felt safe. Her paranoia melted away into a strange sense of peace that lifted her soul and lightened her body.

Pharah gave a nod. "I'm guessing you got your memory back. So you know more about him, yes?" There was a silent, 'tell me everything' behind her words.

"He's our uncle," Zaharah said as she turned onto the main road. "Well, not by blood. He and my dad went to high school and college together. They were best friends for... forever. I've known him longer than I've known myself. He made my arm." And she flexed her metal fingers around the wheel. "I can't believe I didn't remember."

"It's not your fault. Director Sanders screwed with your head." Pharah turned in her seat to face Zaharah squarely. "So, we can trust him?"

"A hundred and ten percent," she said without missing a beat. "Now that I think about it, I don't remember Uncle Cam mentioning his sister much, if at all. The Director would come to events at the tower sometimes, but that's all I remember of her."

"I still don't know..." Pharah breathed a sigh through her nose. "But if you say we can trust him, then I believe you."

Zaharah smiled. "Thanks, just Pharah."

They made the rest of the ride in silence. When they broke away from the new Andros district, the downtown skyline came into view. The collection of high rises and sky scrapers pierced to heavens, a modern testament to advancement. The old downtown skyline wasn't quite so extravagant, and belied the colonialist history of the Bahamas, but had a strange charm of its own.

Zaharah kept glancing over at Pharah to make sure the DJ was alright. The DJ's expression remained neutral, her attention on the passing scenery. But as they neared the western side of the 700, and the blue line of their GPS guide shortened, the mood in the car grew heavier, colder.

Zaharah drummed her fingers on the wheel as she waited on the stoplight. The mortuary sat on the rise up ahead, its pink circular walls peeking out from behind a stand of palm trees. Interesting how the grounds of funeral homes were always immaculate and green and full of life.

She pulled off the light and up the ramp. The parking lot of Westview was nigh empty, and she grabbed a spot near the entrance. When she lowered the car, Pharah didn't budge, only stared out at the mortuary with her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

A breeze rustled the trees and made their shadows dance over the cars. Above them clouds drifted by, occasionally clipping or covering the sun. It had been a long time since she looked up and appreciated the sky. Hard to, when for the past two years her sky was a ceiling full of lights.

"I'm sorry," Pharah said, her voice small.

Zaharah shook her head. "It's alright. Take all the time you need."