Anger
There are many days where Esther wonders why she bothers.
It’s plain as day that her family wants nothing to do with her anymore.
Sixteen years ago, after her younger sister naively outed her, her parents kicked her out.
And yet, Esther has kept the lines of communication open.
Just in case anyone wants to reach out. She’s never changed her cell phone number, she calls for every special event, and she checks her childhood email account religiously.
Year after year, birthday after birthday, her calls ring through to voicemail. The only consolation is that her parents haven’t blocked her number, even if they actively choose to ignore her call.
They never changed the landline number, nor her parents’ cell numbers.
The voicemails still have the same messages as always.
Her dad’s is terse and to the point, telling the caller to leave their name and number, and he’ll call them back.
Her mom’s cheerfully tells her caller that she is so sorry to miss them and to have a blessed day.
The house phone still has Esther and all of her younger siblings reciting in unison: “This is the Voigt residence. Please leave a message!” but which devolves into shrieking giggles from her baby brother by the end.
If new Voigt siblings exist, do they ever ask who calls to wish everyone a happy birthday, except them? Did her parents parentify the next youngest sister—the one who outed her—after they kicked out their built-in babysitter, their passive, responsible, obedient-in-all-ways-but-one eldest daughter?
Are any of her siblings queer too? From what Esther’s seen online, her sisters all seem deeply entrenched in the trad wife pipeline, like Esther would have been, if she’d been pushed into marrying the pastor’s skeezy son (he married a different Voigt sister instead).
If any of them are like her, are they afraid of the consequences of coming out, because of what happened to Esther?
Or perhaps her parents learned better for their remaining children?
She wonders if her siblings are raising their own kids with the same expectations that they were raised with, with the same values that had gotten Esther excommunicated from her own family.
Growing up, Esther always tried to protect her siblings from the pressure she faced as the oldest, the role model.
In the hopelessness of her pox fever, Esther looked her siblings up on social media, but her friend or follow requests were still ignored.
Not that she expected anything different.
After all, her sister is turning twenty-six today.
She’s married with a couple of kids—old enough to make decisions for herself—yet she has never reached out to Esther.
All of her siblings were too young to have their own cell phones when Esther left home, so like every year, she’s forced to call the landline.
That message recorded long ago—full of laughter and innocence and sibling love—is what Esther expects to hear again today when she calls for her sister’s birthday.
Instead, on the second ring, a man answers. “Hello?”
Esther freezes, her breath catching in her chest. “Dad?”
“Oh, God, I hope not! I haven’t had sex with a woman since high school! Who is this?”
Esther’s heart sinks. Unless a lot changed in the past sixteen years, her father would never use the Lord’s name in vain. Nor is he likely to be a flamboyant, older gay man.
“This is Esther. Sorry, this number is supposed to be my parent’s landline. Is this not the Voigt residence?” She checks her phone to make sure she dialed it correctly, but the number on her screen is the same one she memorized as a child.
They blur as she looks at it.
“No, sorry, hunny. This is the number they gave me after my stalker ex kept harassing me. You’d think at my age, I’d learn to look out for the red flags. But he was six-four, so they were hard to see all the way up there!”
“Oh.” Esther hates the crack in her voice. “Okay. Sorry to bother you.”
The man on the other end must hear the crack in her voice, too. “You got their cell number or something, hun?” he asks in a gentler tone.
Esther’s eyes burn. “Yeah, I guess I’ll try that. Thank you.”
Sensing this man on the other end will be so incredibly kind and listen to the tragic backstory that she hates rehashing, Esther hangs up the phone before he can reply, before the sobbing starts.
Did your parents give up their landline? A cool touch wipes her cheeks free of tears, as Lucy’s melodic voice resonates in her chest.
Swallowing her grief, Esther nods. “Yeah.”
Do you want to talk about it?
Esther shakes her head, but says anyway, “That was the only way I had to reach my siblings. My voice was on that answering machine. And they just got rid of it. They got rid of me.”
Cold surrounds her as Lucy gathers Esther in her arms. As faint as her touch is, Esther is still clasped firmly against the invisible draft.
Other than after the one stolen kiss and the single glimpse of Lucy in the mirror, Esther has never seen her.
But she can feel her, usually as a cool breeze through her body.
But other times—such as this one—Lucy feels like an ice pack through a tea towel, wrapping around her shoulders and stroking her hair.
“It’s just not fair.” Esther exhales her anger, her grief, her hurt as best she can.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised. Why would they keep a landline when all of my siblings are grown up?
If they wanted to talk to me, wouldn’t they have answered before now?
I shouldn’t be this upset. This isn’t new. ”
You’re allowed to be upset.
“But there’s no point in getting angry.” Esther shakes her head, bitterness leeching through that she does her best to ignore. “I just have to accept it and move on.”
Accepting it doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be upset about the situation. Acceptance is a cyclical process, not a state of being. You can move on after you feel everything you need to, including anger.
“What good would that do?” Esther laughs to keep from sobbing, but tears spring to her eyes again anyway. “Nothing is ever fair. I’d be so angry all the time if I let myself be.”
Then be angry all the time. I would be if I were you. Let yourself get upset that your parents suck, that your job is thankless, that you’re being haunted by your weirdo coworker. A laugh tugs Esther’s chest. Be angry until you aren’t anymore. Then you start to move on.
“Aren’t you angry? Your situation isn’t fair either.” Esther twists the hair on her thigh, wishing she could hold Lucy instead.
I am angry at my mother. And my dad. And Angel. I’m angry Cash died, that we’re living in such a shitty time when no one seems to have any compassion anymore. I’m angry your family treated you like you were expendable. I’m angry Gilda takes advantage of you.
“You’re literally dead and comforting me. This is messed up.” Esther rests her head into what she hopes is the crook of Lucy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I have no right to be upset when your situation is so much worse.”
It’s not a competition, East. I’m not upset that I’m haunting you. I regret that I had to die, but I’m grateful that I got the chance to get to know you in this way. Maybe one day I’ll be able to let go of the rest of my anger and move on like I’m supposed to.
The idea of Lucy moving on, of leaving Esther alone, leaves a bitter taste in Esther’s mouth. Imagining that day when Lucy will leave her, just like everyone else, hurts. “I don’t want you to. I like having you with me.”
I don’t want to either. This sounds so pathetic, but I’m happier haunting you than I ever was alive. I’ll stick around to the best of my ability, as long as you want me here. Another laugh from Lucy tugs Esther’s chest. Not that I know how to move on in the first place.
“Good. Because I can’t imagine not wanting you around.” Eyes burning all over again, Esther tries to wrap her arms around Lucy, only to fall into the bed. She sits up in a panic as the cool touch disappears. “Luce? You still there?”
I’m here. Sorry. That tickled. I lost my focus.
“I didn’t know ghosts were ticklish.” Esther laughs in relief.
Maybe all of her abandonment issues are too close to the surface.
Lucy literally just said she doesn’t want to move on.
That she wants to stay. With Esther. And isn’t that something?
After years of losing her family, of friends drifting away from her, of relationships that only worked when Esther pretended to be someone she wasn’t, finally, someone wants to stay.
It may not be ideal circumstances, and Lucy may not have a choice, in the end.
But if she gets one, Lucy is happy with Esther.
I’m learning something new every day. We should write a book about this whole experience. Well, you should write a book.
“I can be your ghostwriter.” Esther bites her lip, as Lucy’s exasperated sigh lurches in her chest. “Get it? Ghost writer?”
Yeah, I got it, East. That was terrible.
Esther grins, because along with that exasperated sigh, she can feel Lucy’s adoration. For her, corny jokes and all.