Twenty-Four #3
“Well, you made up for it in other ways, Luce. You were a very um…generous dream lover.” Esther laughs, winking in my general direction. She bites her lip, smile fading into something softer, sweeter. “I hope you know that I care now.”
With a nod, I smile, tears springing to my eyes again. She’s a master of understatement, my East. Making something as monumental as anyone caring deeply for me, into such a simple sentence. “Yes. I know. I know that we care about each other.”
Esther’s cheeks tinge pink. “I didn’t know you ever saw me, but you must have.
You’re Tied to me after all. Or we’re Tied to each other.
I don’t know the right way to say that.” Esther strokes my shoulder and back, our bodies so familiar with each other that she doesn’t need to see me to know how to touch me.
“The first time you spoke to me was the night you died. You know the doors we came in from, and the two that looked exactly like them?”
I nod. “The ones that always felt wrong.” I don’t remember speaking to her ever, let alone the night I died.
But I was blackout drunk that night. The last hours of my life are memories lost. My most toxic, codependent relationship once my mother kicked me out, wine was my constant companion.
My first birthday without a greeting from Cash left me in a new level of despair.
If only I’d leaned on Dream Esther, talked to her a little more sober before that night, everything might have been different.
“You told me that you wanted to see what was through that other door. And you thanked me for caring about you and said goodbye. I panicked and tried to stop you, but you went through it, and I woke up crying. I tried so hard to get back to sleep to go back and find you, but I couldn’t sleep at all.
And then the next morning, you missed the department meeting.
And then you didn’t water your plant, and you always watered your plant at ten on Fridays.
I knew something had happened to you, but no one else seemed to notice or care. ”
The tears are falling from Esther’s eyes now. Each one drips fire down my neck.
Is that what happened to me? I went through the wrong door and ended up dead? Then why do I have a vague memory of reaching for Esther’s closet door?
“You’re still there, you know,” she whispers.
“In the dreamland. Your body is anyway. You haven’t woken up.
Every night, it’s like you’re in stasis.
You’re not breathing or anything, but you’re not dead.
I’ve tried to wake you up so many times, but it never works.
I even tried the Sleeping Beauty method once.
I felt like such a creep, because I was basically kissing a comatose version of you. ”
“You’re not a creep.” I reach up to brush my thumbs against her cheeks. Her blue irises glow against her red-rimmed eyes. “Can…can I kiss you now? Not to fix anything. Just because I want to.”
I shouldn’t ask this. She’s crying. I’m dead. I should not kiss her. Not anymore.
But I can’t help myself. My heart is too full not to crave her.
I didn’t think anyone cared. And here was Esther the whole time—sweet, lovely, and crying for me.
My dream girl, who noticed how often I watered my plant and asked me questions about myself, even when I never answered.
Who has sat vigil next to my dream body every night and tried to save me. How can I not want to kiss her?
With a nod, Esther leans in, her body pressing down against mine. Her nose touches my cheek, nudging gently to tilt my chin up.
Her Life doesn’t burn when our lips touch. If it does, I am too overwhelmed to notice. To awestruck to care. Our kiss is warm and soft and tastes like vanilla, just like I remember.
My tears fall heavy with regret.
“You’re crying.” Esther strokes my cheek now, looking into my eyes with worried brows. “Please don’t cry. You’re so beautiful.”
I can’t answer. Sorrow chokes my throat, drowning me with regret too deep to fight. We could have had this when I was alive. We could have had each other. But now it’s impossible, and I have no choice but to give into the depths where my choices have led me.
As Esther and I look at each other, tears in our eyes, I lose my focus and pass through her.
Esther lets out a quiet yelp when she falls into me. “You still there?”
The burn is back. It hurts worse, now that I know how sweet the pain can feel. And yet, I don’t even attempt to move away from her, to give us some distance. I stay within her, every nerve scalding, because pain is preferable to raw despair. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Good.” As if sensing she’s laying in me, Esther rolls over. Instead of drowning, instead of fire, my shuddering inhale takes in only jasmine-scented air. “Like, I know I’m a good kisser, but I’d be a little hurt if you moved on so quickly after I gave up the goods.”
Aching from the inside out, I can’t help but laugh. I giggle helplessly, lying next to Esther on her pink duvet. Despite the dreary rain, and the hopelessness of my existence, my East always lightens my mood.