Twenty-Five
“Lucy, look at you!” Harriet’s voice surprises me from out of nowhere; the sun is so bright on the quad that I’m not entirely sure where she is in the gathering group of students and faculty.
Syd must be nearby, but I don’t see them either from my spot on the edge of the crowd.
“You’re so bright, you’re practically solid! You look half alive!”
Today is the Philosophy Department’s ice cream social they allegedly hold every year; They didn’t host one last year, due to Pox restrictions.
Well, they did, but it was over video call, and I had to supply my own ice cream.
I joined, but I didn’t come off mute. Other than to share that I was eating strawberry oat milk ice cream during the “ice-cream breaker,” as Esther called it, which was more charming than it should have been.
Instead, I just listened to Gilda and Allan bicker like an old married couple.
I was pleasantly surprised then, and I’m pleasantly surprised now, that Gilda sees value in socializing events at all.
“Thanks, I think? Is calling a ghost half-alive a compliment?” I turn, squinting against the sun to find her. There’s no holding back the gasp that escapes me when I do.
Harriet’s outline is so faint, I can barely see her.
A million excuses for her appearance come so quickly, but I know I’m lying to myself.
“Did your veil fall? Can I help put it back up?” I reach for her—to help, to cling to the only person who knows I exist besides Esther.
Maybe it’s harder to see ghosts in the sunlight; today is a particularly sunny spring day.
It makes total sense that the oak tree behind her isn’t the slightest bit washed out.
Harriet floats backward from my hands, her wisp of veil turning back and forth as she shakes her head. “No, that’s quite all right. I’ve decided it’s time for me to try to move on.”
“What? Why?” I blurt out, chest aching. Harriet was my hope that I could stay with Esther forever. “Is everything okay? Did something happen? It’s not what I said about my parents, is it? Because your situation with Syd is not like Angel’s at all!”
“It’s all right, Lucy, just a personal choice that’s been a long time coming.
What you said about your parents was just one wake-up call in a whole heap of signs that it’s time.
” Harriet chuckles, and the warmth in her laugh softens the grief that I’ll soon lose her.
“At first, I felt like a guardian angel. I had a purpose in sticking around. While I might have stayed a little longer than most of us do, I don’t regret it.
” She lets out a heavy sigh. “But my baby’s grown up now.
They have friends who celebrate their birthday with them.
They made the dean’s list. They call their dad every Sunday.
Sticking around now feels more like helicopter parenting.
Like I’m staying for my sake, not theirs.
Syd’s got it figured out. They don’t need me anymore. ”
“How do you feel about that?” I ask carefully. Harriet has held on to herself for over two decades; it can’t have been an easy decision.
Harriet huffs a quiet laugh. “How am I supposed to feel about it? My baby, the only person I care about in the whole wide world, doesn’t need me anymore?
I want to hate it. But I don’t.” Her shroud ripples, as if she’s shrugging underneath it.
“Part of being a parent, I suppose. If they need you for the rest of their lives, you’re not raising them right.
And it’s not like Syd ever knew I was here for them. They’ve never known me.”
“You’re a good mom,” my voice cracks. “Knowing when to let go.”
Harriet laughs quietly to herself, full of fondness.
“I won’t lie, Syd finally dumping their loser boyfriend from high school and getting with that dance major they’ve been seeing helped.
They’re on the right path. And if I can move on, I will no longer have to witness the child I birthed while they’re, you know…
” She shudders audibly, the wisp of her veil shimmering as she shakes.
“Good for Syd though. Between you and I, their dad really had no idea what he was doing. Hell, I might have lived a little longer, if he’d ever put in half the effort of Syd’s girl! ”
“The tragedy of straight women everywhere,” I tease, and we laugh together.
I’m going to miss having normal conversations with someone who isn’t Esther.
To laugh with a friend, instead of my Tie.
Not that I could ever grow weary of Esther, but this is different, and I’ll miss Harriet so much.
The realization dims my laughter, but the ache is bittersweet; is this the last time I’ll see her?
Will she be happier finally letting go after all these years?
Near me, Esther quirks a questioning look in my direction that clearly says, “What the fuck are you laughing about?”
“Don’t mind me, East. I’m just talking to Syd’s mom about their sex life.” My smile stays more easily than I expect, still just as genuine despite my reluctance to let Harriet go.
Eyebrows rising, Esther shakes her head and checks her phone, before turning back to her conversation—or rather, politely listening to Allan ramble on about the different calls northern cardinals make.
“She can hear you?” Harriet breathes out.
“Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you, but on the rare occasion we see each other in person, Syd’s always in a rush.
For a few months now.” I allow myself a fond look at Esther in her maroon cardigan with nerdy-ass elbow patches, before turning back to Harriet.
“Actually, Syd helped us figure it out. They heard me over a video call one day. Esther and I did some experiments, and it turns out the living can hear us through microphones. Or at least Syd and Esther can—perhaps being Tied to you made Syd more apt to hear me. Esther got a sound amplifier so we could talk, and eventually, she learned to hear me without it. She can see and feel me sometimes, too.”
“Twenty-two years of being dead, I’m still learning new possibilities.” Harriet whistles low.
“Does that…” I stumble over my question, already knowing the answer. But selfishly, I ask it anyway. “Does that change things, for you? With your decision to move on? Knowing Syd could learn to hear you?”
As I expect, Harriet shakes her head slowly, and changes the subject. “So you must be the professor who is ‘on sabbatical?’ Syd thought it was funny that you were on sabbatical in Dr. Voigt’s apartment.”
“That’s me!” I roll my eyes, my attempt at a laugh coming out more bitter than I’d like. “Or rather, that’s Dr. Frederick’s attempt at damage control. She doesn’t want to admit I’m not coming back, so I’m on an indefinite sabbatical. I had the audacity to make her look bad by dying.”
“How dare you!” Harriet laughs, but her outline starts floating away. “Oh, Syd must be leaving. Have a good death if I don’t see you again, Lucy. I hope you know how special you are, my friend!”
“Thank you for everything!” I don’t want my time with Harriet to be over, but I still smile and wave as we’re forced to part.
That’s the way life goes, and I’ll cherish every moment I’ve had with her.
“Good luck with moving on!” My throat catches, but I force myself to call after her, “I’ll miss you! ” It’s important that she knows that.
I missed my chance to tell Cash that.
Next time, if there is a next time when I have an opportunity to make a friend, no regrets. Not like I had with Cash. Any moments when I might engage with someone new will be fleeting; I can’t let myself miss out on connection again.
With a parting wave, I’m suddenly alone again.
Well, I’m the only ghost, anyway. And if Harriet gets her way and moves on, I might be the only ghost I see for a long time.
I wouldn’t have known half of what I’ve figured out without her over the past…
ten and a half months? I might have moved on without her support, and then I would never have been heard, seen, known by Esther.
Even if this is the last time I see Harriet, talk to anyone else in our lonely dimension, at least Esther is here.
Esther is always here. Just how I’m always with her.
I wonder if I’ll have the sense to know when I should move on.
Esther doesn’t need me as Syd did with Harriet.
Sure, she’s lonely and wants my company, but she’s not as isolated as I was.
While I was too stubborn, too traumatized to even try, Esther cares about people.
Cares too much and about too many people, in my opinion.
Not enough people seem to care about her in return.
And that’s the crux of it. Why I don’t want to move on. What happens when Esther gives up and stops caring, like I did? What happens when someone starts caring for her in return?
I have mixed feelings about her lack of dating life.
On the one hand, I’m selfishly relieved.
That would hurt—seeing my Tie fall in love with someone who isn’t me.
I am my mother’s daughter in some ways, after all.
On the other hand, she should be loved, with or without her ghost coworker potentially watching her every move.
Perhaps I should let myself move on.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been sticking around for the chance to be close to Esther.
I pretended it was rooted only in curiosity about the afterlife.
And look where my curiosity has gotten her.
Esther has been forced into a codependent, impossible relationship with a ghost. Harriet stayed close to Syd, because she wanted her child to be happy.
I’ve stayed close to Esther because I needed a taste of what happiness might have been, only to find Esther just as lonely as me.
Now, I’ve stayed close long enough to learn that my greatest desire is her happiness.
Perhaps if—when—Esther finds someone who cares about her as she deserves, I’ll move on. Or at least pretend I’ve moved on, even if I haven’t.
For her sake.
As we walk home from campus, Esther sighs and checks her phone.
“Expecting a call?” I ask. Esther’s not normally tied to her phone, but she’s been checking it a lot today.
“No.” Esther tucks it back in her pocket. “High hopes for one, but low expectations.”
I wait, but she doesn’t continue. It’s unusual that I have to prompt her to elaborate. “Got a hot date or something? Is it Angel?”
“Oh, god, no!” Esther snorts as she unlocks her apartment building. “It’s…um…my birthday today?” I freeze at the bottom of the stairs. “Just kind of hoping someone in my family calls. Parents. One of my sisters. An aunt? Third cousin twice removed? One of my old friends? Anyone.”
How does this girl keep breaking my heart? There’s none of the usual pain as she walks through me to march up the stairs; I’m too stunned by her casual vulnerability. “Esther—”
“I know it’s stupid.” When I catch up to her, she’s furiously chewing her lip.
“I know I shouldn’t want them to call me.
But I always call them, and every year, I just want them to remember I exist. Maybe this birthday will be the day when they miss me enough.
I just want someone to care that it’s my birthday. ”
“It’s not stupid. You love them. And you want them to love you.
” Wasn’t that the true joy of the chocolate cake?
Not the dessert itself, or ordering what I wanted before Angel could take the opportunity from me.
But so the servers would sing happy birthday.
So someone would celebrate me, even if it was just long enough to light the candle and clap.
Esther’s heart is too big to be real sometimes. I don’t know how she survives all of the love and hope she carries. She cares about everyone, even me—the virtual stranger who haunted her dreams and now haunts her life.
Esther doesn’t respond. She just kicks off her shoes and flops onto her bed, still in her outside clothes. She must be so stuck in her head if she hasn’t taken her pants off yet.
“Ring ring!” I say. “Ring ring!”
Esther looks in my general direction with a roll of her eyes. “What?”
“I’m calling you. Answer your phone.” I hold up my hand to my ear, nodding at her to pick her hand-phone up, forgetting she can’t see me. “Ring ring! Don’t make me leave a message. I hate leaving voicemails. I get so anxious.”
Esther laughs and shakes her head, before she puts her hand up to her head. “Hello?”
I burst into the Birthday song—the version that my Dad used to sing. I put my heart into it, even though my singing voice sounds even worse than when I was alive. I can’t imagine that my deep demonic ghost voice singing Stevie Wonder off-key is pleasant, but a smile graces Esther’s face either way.
Esther politely lets me finish, before thanking me softly.
“How was your birthday?” I continue with my fake phone call. “Are you doing anything fun to celebrate?”
With a groan, Esther rolls on her back, kicking her feet up in the air as she tugs her pants off.
Still holding her hand to her ear like a phone, she blushes but plays along.
“My birthday was pretty good. I had ice cream with my coworkers. They didn’t remember it was my birthday, but there was ice cream, at least.”
“You should bake yourself a cake! If I was there, I’d make you one myself.” I perch on the table next to my plant. “The afterlife doesn’t have ovens, unfortunately. Or food.”
“No food in the afterlife? Are you sure you’re not in Hell?”
I laugh and continue on chatting, like I imagined other people do; I never spoke on the phone like this when I was alive. But my East is smiling again, and I’d talk for hours on a hundred fake phones if it made her feel a little less alone on her birthday.
How could I even consider moving on?