“Definitely,” she said, thinking it was nice that he cared but weird that he maybe cared too much?

His parents were both there, looking happy chatting with her mom, so that was weird or maybe not. Eden had made a decision to forgive all that, whether she fully felt it yet or not.

One of the organizer women held up a megaphone and said, “Okay, we’re going to start now! Thank you all for coming out! Hate will not be tolerated in our neighborhood. We stand together against it today!”

Applause and woots rose up. People on benches stood; people who’d maybe only just decided to join in came closer. She and her mom hooked arms and started to follow the procession out of the park.

When her mom found a friend and went to chat, Marwan fell into step beside Eden. It was a few more blocks—past the house that had like a hundred small birds in its shrubs all the time, and past the apartment building whose gardens the owners decorated for every imaginable holiday—before she reached out and took his hand. There was no hesitation or surprise on his end; it was like he’d been waiting for it.

She didn’t know what she even wanted with him—maybe what they already had was enough, whatever it was?—and she had no idea how you were supposed to know that. When enough was enough. When enough was just right. She wanted to kiss him, though. Right there in the middle of a crowd. She wanted to kiss everyone who’d turned up, though. For standing up for something good.

She loved this crazy place so hard in that moment in spite of everything.

Marwan dropped her hand and went to talk to a friend near the stalled construction site where someone had apparently thrown a ton of wildflower seeds, because behind the plywood wall at the sidewalk rose tall sunflowers and other flowers Eden didn’t know the names of.

She whispered to her dad, “I wish you were here,” then wondered who would still talk to her when she was dead, but really there was no way to know and it was probably not something she had to worry about for a very long time.

She wondered if she’d ever tell anybody about what they’d all just been through or if it was the kind of thing that only mattered when you were in it.

Maybe you had to be there.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and triggered a knee-jerk feeling of panic—what now?

The Citizen app alerted her to “Two women carrying a large tub of an unidentified hot liquid” about a half mile away.

Eden almost laughed because … what?

A body was only built to absorb so many tragedies, could only stand to worry about a finite number of random things.

Everyone who mattered most in her life was right here or already gone.