Twenty-Eight #2
My mouth opens, lips trembling, but no words come out. For as much as I adore her assertive moments that emerge when she no longer has patience to wear her people pleaser mask, that masc attitude has never been directed at me before.
“What is it?” Esther asks, her voice husky and eyes narrow. “I can feel you here.” She rubs her chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I might not be…” I huff. I’m not ready yet, I haven’t mulled over the implications and consequences of being open with her about what Dad said. But Esther is not asking. She is demanding. And I refuse to let her down. “I might not have died.”
“What?” Esther asks in a quiet exhale.
I shake my head. “Something my dad said. He doesn’t think we died. If I am following what he said correctly, he thinks he trapped himself in Angel’s consciousness through lucid dreaming.” I shake my head. “Not that it matters. The point still stands: this isn’t a real relationship.”
“But that doesn’t mean you’re not real. That my feelings aren’t real. That our love isn’t real.” Esther bites her lip, hope brightening her eyes. “If you’re not dead, maybe there’s hope—”
“Don’t!” Squeezing my eyes shut, I exhale heavily through my nose.
Esther needs to see reality. It breaks my heart to be the one to tell her, to be the one who makes her flinch as hurt flashes through her eyes.
But I need to see reality, too. I’m a haunting reminder that her boundless hope is pointless.
I hate to be the reason her life is more bitter than sweet, but I can’t let her do this to herself.
My throat is knotted so tight that my voice is hoarse as I murmur, “Don’t delude yourself, not for me.
Even if I didn’t die, I’m as good as dead.
There’s no untying myself without moving on, so it changes nothing. ”
“Don’t tell me not to hope. That’s the only thing keeping me going,” Eyes watery, Esther scoffs.
The derision feels cruel, yet I deserve nothing less than her anger.
“This is real for me. And I know this feels real for you, too. And if you’re not actually dead, then maybe there’s a chance.
Somehow.” Esther crosses her arms, but the furrow of her brow and quiver of her lip exposes her anguish. “We just have to find a way.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What can I possibly say to convince her that this isn’t real?
It is real for me. She’s real for me. But it won’t do any good to acknowledge that.
I can’t be real for her. She deserves everything I can never give her.
Someone she can acknowledge in public, without her sanity being questioned.
Someone she can see and touch and kiss. Someone she can have privacy from.
Someone who makes her life better, not worse.
My heart slowly crumbles as it sinks in.
Esther is worse off now, because of me. As much as she might care for me, my East is unhappy, because of me.
Love isn’t enough, not compared to all of the sorrow and stress my metaphysical presence has caused.
My curiosity has led to her hoping for something impossible; staying here will only cause her more heartbreak.
“Please,” Esther begs, as I gape helplessly at her for too long. When she glances up at me, her blue eyes are rimmed with red. “If I’m crazy, tell me you’re not real. Tell me you feel nothing. Tell me that this is all in my head, and you don’t love me like I love you.”
“I can’t.” The words escape me before I can stifle them.
“I wish I could tell you you’re making this up.
Or exist in silence, so you can pretend I’ve moved on.
So you can fall in love, even if it breaks my heart to see it.
” I sniffle, my tears overflowing. “I do love you, Esther. I wish I was strong enough to lie and tell you I don’t, because that’s what would be best for you.
I’m sorry that I had to end up here—in this hopeless existence—to figure that out, because it’s too late for us. ”
“Lucy…” Esther’s voice turns soft as she pulls her chair close to mine. “Don’t apologize for things outside your control.”
I can’t help it. I burst into a laugh, wet with tears.
“And even though you’re a ghost, or an energy imprint, or a lucid dream, or whatever you identify as these days, I see you sitting in front of me, looking beautiful and radiant.
More and more each day, I see you.” Esther smiles softly.
“I hear your voice telling me good morning and good night and everything in between. I feel it when you hold my hand. And when you’re sad, your tears are wet when I kiss them away.
” She brushes the tears from my eyes, her hands hot against my skin.
She cups my face and burns my cheeks with her kisses. “You are as lovely as in our dreams.”
I kiss her then, answering her unspoken invitation to end this awful conversation, to delay our reality a little longer.
Her lips are soft and warm where mine press against them.
The vanilla from her Chapstick pairs perfectly with the rose from her glass.
When her tongue sears hot where it slips against mine, she tastes so delightfully herself.
For once, I believe my senses. I want this moment to be as real and full and overwhelming as it feels and tastes and smells, instead of the bland nothing it really is.
My heart is breaking too much for rational thoughts to take over, and my deepest desires overcome any logic telling me they’re impossible.
For Esther’s sake—and mine—I wish I could go back in time and change things, so we could have had this when I was alive. I wish I could magically force myself to my own…dimension or wherever the fuck I’m supposed to be, so we could be happy together.
But from here, there’s no going back.
There’s nowhere to go but nowhere.