Page 113 of The Debutantes
A white BMW pulls into the lot, and we all turn to squint at the headlights. Mrs. Johnson steps out of the driver’s side as Wyatt gets out of the other. For a moment, I watch uncertainty flicker over Piper’s face.
But then, in an instant, it melts away. Piper rushes toward her family as they run to her, meeting in the middle in a tangle of arms and tears. Watching Piper’s mom, the way she holds her close, speaking gentle words into her hair, I think I can understand it, why her parents did what they did. They thought they were protecting their kids—just like Coach thought he was protecting Marty, like Marty protected him back. When you grow up in a place like this, so suffocated by secrets and ghosts and the threat of rising water, it’s hard not to grab what you can and hold on for dear life when the flood starts to come.
I understand it, but that doesn’t mean I forgive them.
That doesn’t mean that I completely forgive myself.
Vivian shifts beside me, and I realize she’s not looking at Piper anymore. She’s looking at Coach’s car, still parked in the lot.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” she asks.
Another flash of him stalking toward me, the needle raised. I close my eyes, try to reset my brain, remind myself he isn’t here.
“I don’t know,” I tell her.
Vivian takes a breath, her eyes still locked on the car.
Lily shakes her head. “Don’t do that.”
“What?” Vivian asks.
“Blame yourself. If you didn’t go allKill Billon Marty, we might not have made it out of there. And Coach…” She presses her lips together. “We shouldn’t feel sorry for him.”
Vivian doesn’t look convinced.
“It’s okay, though,” I tell her. “To feel sorry, anyway. For the person you thought he was.”
Vivian turns to me. “Can I say something corny, and we’ll never speak of it again?”
“What?”
“I like it when you talk. You have some pretty good things to say.”
Warmth spills through my chest, as embarrassingly genuine as the smile on my face, but before I can form some sort of insufficient response, another car pulls into the lot. When I recognize it, my breath catches.
“April!” Dad calls, climbing out.
I’ve only taken a few steps toward them before both my parents are wrapping me in a tight hug that smells like home, Dad’s pine-scented car air freshener mixed with Mom’s rose perfume. I don’t even register what they’re saying—only that they’re here, and I’m safe.
A throat clears, and I turn to see one of the officers, who looks sorry for breaking up this reunion.
“Would you mind answering a few questions, April?” he asks.
My parents look at me, and I nod. Mom reaches down to squeeze my hand as Dad lays his on my shoulder, giving a protective pulse.
Across the parking lot, Vivian is mushed in a three-way hug with Lily and Sav, her parents nearby. They must have gottenhere when I was lost with my own. Piper is with Aiden, Wyatt, and Mrs. Johnson, who eyes Aiden skeptically in the way all moms look at boys who’ve kissed their daughters in parking lots. Still, her pinched expression softens as she reaches to brush a speck of something from Piper’s shoulder, gently smoothing out her sleeve.
There will be conversations, I know. Hard ones, with apologies and questions and answers that may not be enough. But for now, it’s just this: all the people we love, here to collect us from the ashes.
And here, in this dingy mess of a parking lot, I think I see a glimmer of it: how Margot saw this city. The part that made it home. The part I need to hold on to, even though I know what this place did to her, and I understand with even sharper resolution, now, all that’s broken here. The things I still want to leave behind.
How do you love a home that’s sinking?
Somewhere, I think I hear her answer.
Isn’t that kind of the point?
For a moment, I lean into my parents’ touch, letting it hold me there, floating at the surface. I hold my camera close, too, the evidence still there and waiting for me to develop.
