Page 56 of The Writer

I’m about to put the car into drive when someone taps against the window.

I look up, startled, and see Lena Williams standing outside.

That ball of anxiety returns, rising so far into my throat, I fear I might choke. She’s staring right at me, with a look of defiance on her face. Over her shoulder, I can see Charles. He’s standing now, pushing the child on the swing. My first reaction is to leave, but seeing the way Lena is glaring at me, I know that’s not an option.

I roll down my window.

“Hi, Mrs. Williams,” I say, with all the unease of a young schoolgirl.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone is curt.

“I…” My mind flails to come up with an answer. Where do I even begin? “I really don’t know.”

“You came all the way out here from Whitaker,” she says. “There must be a reason.”

Maybe I was too quick to take her off the suspect list. If she knows I still live in Whitaker, maybe she’s keeping tabs on me after all.

“The anniversary is coming up,” I say. “She’s been on my mind a lot. You all have.”

Lena looks over her shoulder, back at the house and her family playing in the backyard. When she turns back to me, something in her eyes seems to have shifted.

“It’s good to see you again, Becca. I think about you often. And Crystal.”

Of all the thoughts that must go through the Williams’ minds, Crystal and I should be low on that list. We weren’t the friends her daughter needed on the last night of her life.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” I say. “I think about it all the time.”

“I know that,” she says, looking down. “I never should have blamed you.”

“The lawsuit?—”

“The lawsuit was a horrible idea. We were so angry back then, we were looking for everyone and anyone to blame.” She looks at me, tears in her eyes. “I know the case was dropped, but I wish we’d never even started it. It was an awful way to treat you in the aftermath of what happened.”

My mouth opens and closes, unsure of what to say. I hadn’t been expecting an apology from Layla’s parents. I don’t deserve one.

“I replay that night all the time, even now. I wish we had stayed with her. We never should have left her alone.”

A real friend would have done more, wouldn’t have let petty feelings and indecision get in the way of Layla’s safety. It was a lapse in loyalty and judgement from which I’ll never recover. Even now, it’s painful being this close to Lena Williams, knowing I’ve stolen so much from her.

“I forgot what it’s like, being young and carefree. It often takes an event like what happened to Layla to remind you how dangerous the world really is. You weren’t thinking anythingawful would happen when you left her there that night. I understand that now.”

I think of my last conversation with Layla, how I didn’t have the nerve to tell her about my full experience with Mike, how he might be dangerous.

“A better friend would have stayed,” I say.

“Growing up, Layla was always close to the girls around here. In my mind, I thought she’d go to school here, stay beside them. It was scary to send my daughter off into the world, watch her build new friendships and leave the ones here behind. But that’s what I wanted her to do. Spread her wings, and she did.”

“She’s one of the best people I’ve ever known,” I say. “I’d give anything to have her here with us.”

“I would too.” She turns back to the house and looks at her smiling grandson. “But there are other parts of life to celebrate. Since being a grandparent, I’ve understood that more. My son still lives in the area, so I’m able to be a big part of his life. Layla’s death nearly broke our family, but we’ve found a way to rebuild.”

“I’m happy for you,” I say.

“I’ll never forget what happened. I still work with WU to ensure safety on campus. I started a charity and it’s ran by one of the professors there.”

“Really?” I ask. “Who is it?”

“Victoria Johnson. She’s done a lot to help build awareness on campus,” she says.

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