what now? | outerbanks

• one hundred six •

Kie

    Tonight is almost the same as it used to be. The warm evening breeze hugs around us but doesn't constrict. It's too deep into summer to have a fire going, but we're still sitting around in a circle, cheeks flushed and bodies relaxed. Part of me thinks this is how it should be all of the time. Part of me knows that.
    But it's just a little different now.
    JJ and John B. are co-telling a story about a prank they pulled in school. JJ's additions are a little tipsy. John B.'s are not. Pope is pretending to listen, interjecting a quiet laugh and "really" every now and then, but he's really just studying a set of flash-cards. Cleo is sipping slowly out of a glass, though I'm not sure what tonight's portion of choice is. I'm simply observing everything, painting my toenails a light pink while I do so.
    And then there's Sarah. Sarah's sitting between John B. and me, chair pulled back a little from the circle, fully entranced with the baby in her arms. I catch myself staring. I think everyone does, honestly. We're still getting used to this version of her.
JJ leans forward in his chair, grinning. "You can't tell me that wasn't the most legendary prank ever," JJ shouts. "Admit it!"
    I roll my eyes. "Babe, filling Mr. Buchanan's truck with live catfish is not legendary."
    "You ended up in Juvy for three days."
    "And they weren't alive," Sarah says. "They died before school even started."
    JJ holds his hand up to block the space between them. "I don't want to hear it from you, Miss Cameron. You were still a Kook back then."
    Cleo's head tips back in laughter. "She's still a Kook!"
    "I am not!" Sarah quips back. It comes out first as a yell, but her voice hushes back down into a whisper the second Willa whimpers against her chest. "Even Willa agrees. Not a Kook."
    I shrug. "If Sarah is a Kook, technically Willa is too."
    "And what about you, Princess Carrera?"
    "I've been a Pogue longer than you have," I tell her. "I've been inducted in."
    "I don't know..." JJ drags. "You know what they say. Once a Kook, always a Kook."
    Pope throws an empty can at him. "No one says that."
    "Yeah, huh. Me."
    "Totally not credible," Pope mumbles.
Cleo gives him a look. I can't tell what it is. Sneaky? Secretive? My heart beats faster. Someone's hiding something.
"You know what is credible?" she asks, eyes big and bright.
No one says anything back. We all just look at her expectantly.
Pope looks just as confused as the rest of us, brows taut and pulled. "What—"
"You know," she sang.
Then, he understood too, eyes just as bright as his counterpart's. "Well," he started. "Didn't know we were doing this tonight..."
JJ groaned before Pope could get anything out. "You're pregnant?"
    I've never seen Cleo's head whip faster around than just now. "You've got to be out of your damn mind," she snarled, smacking the back of his head.
    "What?! Sarah already did it. It's you or Kie next!"
    Now I'm fueled up too. "JJ Maybank, I swear—"
    JJ's laughing too hard to hear the rest of my sentence, doubled over and slapping his knee. He's his own favorite comedian. "I'm just saying," he shrugs. "There's something in the marsh water, man."
    "There sure is," Sarah laughs sarcastically. "And you're the only one drinking it."
    "So that's why he is the way he is!" John B. adds, as if he's discovered some major wonder of the world.
Cleo crosses her lean legs, glancing slyly at Pope. "Anyway, what my nerd boyfriend was trying to say..." She lets the suspense build, pausing long enough to smirk when JJ leans forward dramatically. "We bought the house."
"Wait. What?" I blurt.
John B.'s eyes go wide. "You bought it?"
"Like actually bought? As in mortgage and papers and everything?" Sarah asks, shifting Willa slightly.
Pope's grin is sheepish but proud. "I mean, we just signed a few things. Final meeting in a few days."
"Holy crap," JJ says. "My baby boy Pope's finally making some big kid decisions."
"Damn," John B. whistles low. "This neighborhood doesn't know what's about to hit them. All of us on one street? They're screwed."
I grin. "We're screwed. I bet a hundred bucks someone gets arrested within a month."
"Ditto," Sarah snorts, rocking the baby gently when she squeaks out a few high-pitched whimpers. "Outer Banks' Most Wanted."
"Yeah, what happened to us?" JJ says, mock-offended. "We used to steal treasure. Now Pope's talking about property tax."
"We didn't steal anything," John B. corrects. "It was our right to get that treasure."
    I pause for a second, and my whole life flashes through my mind. I think about the first time we convinced Pope to drink a singular beer and the football game where JJ tried to blend in with the cheerleaders. I think about John B. and the days he was there for me when no one else was, and the times Sarah and I would lie awake on her roof, staring up at the stars. I try to imagine what Cleo was like before we met. I wish I'd known her. In this split second, I think I see my entire childhood—our entire childhood.
    Sure, we're still young, but things are different. We have spouses and babies and homes. We've made names for ourselves and built something that the people around us never thought we'd be able to build. Nothing will ever be the same again. For better or for worse.
    JJ's hand finds itself on my knee, warm and rough and familiar. "You okay?" he asks. I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
    "Better than okay," I smile. "Just thinking about how far we've come."
    "Sounds like you need a few beers," he mumbles.
     I shake my head, grinning. "You're an idiot."
JJ throws an arm around the back of my chair, tugging me in closer, that lazy grin still plastered across his face. "Yeah, and all yours."
"Unfortunately," I mutter, though my smile gives me away.
John B. leans forward, elbows on his knees. "So when's the move-in?"
"Couple months," Cleo says. "Got a few things to go over first, as we still have to pack everything up."
Pope is smiling ear-to-ear. "And that'll be, like, prime baby visit time too."
"The truth comes out," Sarah says playfully. "You're just doing this because you like her better than me."
Cleo holds her hands up as a white flag. "You said it, not me."
Then the whole group laughs, full and rich and the kind of laugh we've been missing for a while. Sarah's wiping tears from her eyes, probably happy tears, but you never can be sure with her. John B. leans over and kisses her head.
Everything's perfect.
And then Willa starts to cry. We all stop, like someone paused the movie we wish we were in. Every conversation stops mid-sentence. It's not just any cry either. It's too big for her tiny body, loud and piercing and shrill.
    The funny thing about newborn cries is that they don't sound like much until it's your best friend holding the baby, eyes wide, voice shaking, trying to calm them.
    Sarah sits up in her seat, back sticking to the wooden chair for a second after sitting there for so long. She adjusts her grip on the baby, patting and swaying and doing anything she can think of.
    "Hey, hey, it's okay, baby girl. You're okay." She's flustered. I can tell. She's nervous to the point that her hands are shaking, but she's smiling through it. "Uh, okay, I—I think she's hungry."
    John B. moves to stand, but Sarah's already walking to the house. "I'll go inside," she mumbles.
    "You don't have to," I tell her gently. "We don't mind."
    She hesitates, shifting Willa against her shoulder. "I know you say that, but—I don't know. I guess I just feel weird."
    Cleo shakes her head. "It's not weird. It's natural."
    I can see the two sides tugging at her, but she decides to stay. I'm half-convinced it's simply because she's too tired to walk back to the house.
    "Baby, can you just grab the nursing cover from inside?" she asks John B. She sounds exhausted.
    I swear he's inside before she can look over to hear if he heard. I think he's scared of doing something wrong. They both are.
    When he comes back, nursing cover in hand, she smiles at him as best as she can and looks down at the screaming baby like she's not quite sure how to go about doing this.
    I step in immediately. "Here, let me," I say, holding out my arms.
    "No, no," she dismisses. "It's okay. I got it."
    "You don't have four hands, Sarah. Let me help."
    She reluctantly passes the baby over to me, hands lingering even after my hold on her is solid. Together, she and John B. work the cover over her shoulders before maneuvering her top over her chest.
    It takes her a few tries to get settled. Willa's still crying, her little face red and scrunched, arms flailing like she's fighting the air itself. Sarah's hands are trembling when she takes her back from me, and for a second, I think she might start crying too.
    "Shh, baby girl. It's okay," she whispers, trying again. Her voice is soft, almost pleading. "Come on, sweetheart. You're okay."
    For a few minutes, it's quiet again except for the rustle of the blanket and the faint hum of cicadas. Willa's cries fade to soft hiccups.
Sarah lets out a shaky breath, eyes shut and head tipped back. She looks glad, but I can see her wince too when Willa latches. "There we go," she whispers. "Good girl."
But the calm doesn't last. First, there's a wet sound, then a tiny choke, and suddenly there's spit-up milk on the blanket, and Sarah gasps. She's not shocked; she's scared. Willa starts wailing again, louder this time, body twisting in Sarah's arms.
Sarah's voice breaks a little. "Oh no, no, no, it's okay—it's okay." She wipes at Willa's mouth, rocking her gently, but she's flustered, that tremble back in her voice. "She just—she keeps spitting it all up. I don't know why she—"
"Hey, hey," I cut in softly. "It's okay, Sarah. You're okay."
John B. steps forward, but she shakes her head. "I've got her. Just—just stay." Her voice isn't mean, but it's firm. It's the kind of tone that leaves no room for argument. "I'll come back later."
He listens. He sits back down, restless and worried, while she walks into the house, rocking Willa against her chest. The door creaks closed behind her, the sound lingering in the silence that follows.
The rest of us sit there, pretending to go back to normal, but no one really does. JJ takes a sip of his beer, glancing toward the house. "She's okay, right?" he mutters.
"No," I say, though my voice doesn't sound convinced. "She just... needs a minute."
A minute turns into twenty. The night stretches thin, heavy with quiet.
John B. checks his phone like maybe she texted. She didn't. He finally stands, running a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna go—"
"Let me," I say quickly. He looks torn but nods, sinking back into his chair.
Inside, it's dark except for the glow from a lamp in the corner of the living room. The house smells like salt and baby lotion. It takes me a second to find her. She's in the nursery, in the rocking chair, slouched back, one arm limp around Willa. They're both asleep.
The baby's cheek is pressed against Sarah's chest, her tiny fist curled in the fabric of her shirt, still spotted with spit-up. Sarah's head has fallen back against the chair, mouth parted slightly, hair sticking to her temple.
I plan to leave her be, but as soon as I step back into the hallway, she wakes up. I hear her startle awake, jolting in the wooden chair, clutching the baby harder when she realizes she was asleep.
"I didn't mean to—" she starts.
I walk back into the room. "You need rest. It's okay."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine, Sarah."
She shakes her head, already grabbing her phone and a blanket for the baby. "I'll come back out with you."
"No," I say. "You should stay here. You should sleep now that she's calm."
"I said I'd come back out."
"No one will be mad if you don't," I try to persuade. Of course, it's Sarah, so it doesn't work. I make her at least agree to let me hold the baby so her arms can take a break. She makes me wait until we reach the bottom of the stairs.
"It's not that I don't trust you," she says. I nod. I understand. "I just—I feel like if I'm not the one holding her at every moment, something could go wrong. I feel crazy."
"I don't think you're crazy," I say softly as she hands me the baby. "I think you're just doing your job."
When we walk back into the backyard, everyone hushes. I wish they didn't. I know Sarah thinks everyone is acting differently because of her. Even if they are, they mean it in the best way.
"Hi, my love," John B. whispers into her hair when she sits back down beside him.
"Hi," she says back. It's distant. I don't mean to eavesdrop, but I can't help it. I care too much not to.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
She nods. Her smile is almost invisible. "I just don't know why she can't keep anything down. I'm really starting to get worried."
He brushes a stray, sweaty section of hair behind her ears. "The doctor's appointment is tomorrow," he says. "If there's anything wrong, we'll know."
    "You're doing everything right," Cleo tells her.
    "Doesn't feel like it," Sarah mumbles.
    I don't sit down. I know that if I do, Willa will probably start crying and Sarah will fall apart all over again. I bounce the baby in my arms, her head cradled perfectly in the crook of my arm, because I'm barely twenty and I don't know what else to do with babies.
    Pope clears his throat to break the silence. "We should probably head out soon. It's getting late, and we have a meeting about the house tomorrow."
    "Yeah," Cleo agrees, slowly standing.
    JJ stretches and yawns, setting his beer down in the grass beside his chair. "Yeah, I'm down to call it. We've had a long day anyway."
    John B. glances at Sarah. She's half-asleep, eyes fluttering in the glow of the string lights, her body curled sideways in the chair, legs tucked up under her. The exhaustion radiates off her like heat.
    "See you guys in the morning," I say to Pope and Cleo quietly, shifting Willa in my arms. She's fallen asleep again, soft little breaths puffing against my wrist. The others start gathering bottles and blankets, murmuring goodbyes.
    JJ claps John B. on the shoulder. "Text me if you guys need anything, man. I mean it."
    John B. nods. "Thanks, dude."
    "I'll be there in a second, Jayj," I call behind him.
    Cleo gives Sarah a gentle hug. "You're doing great, Mama," she whispers. Sarah smiles faintly, though her eyes look glazed, caught somewhere between gratitude and fatigue. Pope waves softly, keeping his voice low for the baby, and they disappear into the dark, the crunch of gravel fading down the driveway.
    Now it's just the three of us.
    John B. crouches beside Sarah's chair, brushing his fingers along her knee. "Come on, babe," he murmurs. "Let's get you to bed."
    "I'm fine," she mumbles, eyes still closed.
    "You're falling asleep outside."
    She exhales, the protest dying on her lips. Finally, she lets him scoop her up. She barely stirs, just rests her head against his shoulder as he carries her toward the house. Her fingers twitch like she's trying to reach for Willa even in sleep.
    "I got her," I whisper. He nods, grateful.
    When he comes back, his hair's a mess from Sarah's hand, and there's a quiet worry etched between his brows. He pauses in front of me, lowering his voice. "She's out cold. I think that's the first time she's really slept in days."
    "Good," I say. I glance down at the baby, still asleep, mouth slightly open. "She's fine too. For now."
    He sighs, the kind of sound that comes from deep in your chest. "Yeah."
    We stay there for a minute, just listening to the night sounds—the water lapping in the marsh, the bugs buzzing in the distance. Then he reaches out, gently, to take Willa from me.
    "I'm gonna try to get some rest," he says. "Thanks, Kie, for everything."
    "Anytime."
    "I'll text you tomorrow."
    "Please," I say.
    He disappears into the house again, barefoot and careful. Through the glass doors, I watch each little light turn off in the house, the whole place slowly going to sleep.
I linger there for a little while longer, listening—for what, I'm not sure—before I decide that it's safe to leave. JJ's truck is sitting in the driveway, headlights on, engine running. His hair is messy from the humidity, and he grins when he sees me.
"Almost thought you moved in," he jokes through the cracked window.
"I almost did," I mumble.
He watches me carefully as I get in the truck. "You good?" he asks.
I nod as I fasten my seatbelt. "Yeah. Just wanted to make sure Sarah was good before we left."
JJ studies me for a second, his teasing grin waning into something different. "She's not, though. Is she?"
I think about her again. Sarah, fast asleep, baby still clutched in her arms like a lifeline. There was something special about her before any of this. She always had a kind of light in her eyes. Even while she was pregnant, despite the emotions, she had this unmistakable beauty and joy in her heart. I haven't seen that light since before Rose.
    "No," I whisper. "Don't get me wrong, she loves Willa, and she loves being her mom, but she's falling apart."
    "You really think so?"
    I nod. "I've been texting John B. every day to check in. She's not eating enough or sleeping enough. He said she's having nightmares again. And she's doing well with the baby; she's just too hard on herself."
    He finds my hand, leaving our fingers together. "So, what do we do to help?"
    I sigh. "I have no clue."