Depression
Sitting cross-legged on her pink quilt with a stemless glass of wine balanced carefully on her bare calves, Esther finds herself in a moral quandary.
Spread around her are all of Lucy’s books, notes, and pictures.
When she rummaged through Lucy’s stuff in the alley, she never considered that she might actually meet anyone in Lucy’s family to give them to.
Esther was thinking only about herself when she decided what to steal—borrow from Lucy’s possessions. She wanted to bring everything, but there is barely enough room for her own stuff in her tiny studio apartment, let alone all of Lucy’s.
So she prioritized what she needed in the course notes and books, some small things of Lucy’s—such as the photographs—that would fit amongst her carefully organized mess (not that she’d put any of it away yet).
Things that would help her learn more about the intimidating woman she couldn’t stop thinking about, the course she’d adopted, and a handful of sentimental items. Namely, the plant that made Lucy smile when she watered it, her journal, and the dress Lucy had been wearing the first time Esther laid eyes on her—which hangs on her closet door, a bittersweet reminder she can’t bear to hide out of sight.
And now she’s going to meet Lucy’s brother, Angel.
While Angel is probably a perfectly lovely person, his online persona is…
well, douchey. Esther does not particularly want to give up any of the sentimental items she swiped—rescued from the alley.
Especially to a vain and shallow fuckboy who refers to women as females.
But—if that douchiness is all an online personality, and he’s the best brother in the history of family—Angel probably wants the articles and books that Lucy wrote. Some of which Esther hasn’t yet gotten the chance to read. Disappointing as it is, she should hand them over.
“Unless…” Esther taps a finger on the stack of journals, where Lucy’s writing was published. “Would Angel perhaps already have copies? A good brother would support Lucy’s academic career. Right?”
Perhaps Syd or another student would ask yet another question that she had no idea how to answer, and she’ll regret giving away her best resource.
Besides, knowing Gilda, there’ll be some “clerical oversight” on Gilda’s part, and Esther will likely yet again get stuck teaching Lucy’s seminar, and all of her intro courses, in the spring.
She may yet need all of Lucy’s research material again.
Same with the journal. While Esther hasn’t found the time—or courage—to peek inside yet, she suspects she may find something in there that would be helpful for the seminar. If Esther ever reads it, and there is something Angel might need to know, then she can give it to him.
Just thinking of the chance of another stressful semester like the one that just ended is enough to sap Esther of her strength.
Esther groans under her breath, “I get paid by the course. I get paid by the course. I get paid by the course.” She flops back into the pillows with a heavy sigh, and a long sip of her wine.
The bitter tannins from the Malbec dry her mouth as she slowly lets it roll over her tongue. Esther swallows with a grimace. Why did she buy such a dry red?
She’d been at the store, wondering which rosé would be the sweetest, when the inky burgundy bottle caught her eye.
A feeling in her chest told her that Lucy might have liked it.
An impulse buy she now regrets. It’s far too bitter for her tastes, but Esther would hate to offend Lucy’s tastes, so she keeps her opinion to herself, even if Lucy will never actually hear her complain.
It’s disappointing; she wants to like the wine Lucy preferred.
Or, what Esther thinks she would have preferred.
Esther can feel all the small aches and drafts, or imagine laughter all day long, it does not mean Lucy is actually with her.
But after an exhausting week of work, and a glass of wine, it’s easy to forget why reality is important to cling to.
“I wonder if Angel would even want to read your books—if he hasn’t already read them, of course!
He doesn’t seem like he would be into…” Esther grabs the book closest to her and reads the title.
“…Patterns of resurgent interest in the occult in postwar societies. Though, he doesn’t seem like he would be big on reading in the first place.
” Laughter that’s not her own bubbles in her chest. Esther smiles, delusionally confident that Lucy would agree, and even find Esther funny.
“Maybe I should just return the photographs? It would be a little weird for me to keep family pictures of a family that isn’t mine, I suppose. ”
The pictures of Lucy and her family have found a home on Esther’s nightstand, next to the bouquet of fake roses, so she can look at them from time to time.
Lucy, adorable with thick glasses and a shy smile that shows a gap between her front teeth, poses in the only school picture Esther found, a headshot from kindergarten.
Her parents’ wedding, with her mom heavily pregnant and looking so in love with her dad.
Lucy and her dad on the porch swing was Esther’s favorite—slightly blurry because they’re rocking the swing, but they’re both laughing.
No other pictures of Lucy have such a big, genuine smile, other than the one with Cash that had been hidden away in Lucy’s desk.
But then it all stops once Lucy reaches kindergarten. Perhaps her mom kept the rest of her family photos and school pictures from when Lucy was older.
After looking at the photos dozens of times over the past two months since she saved them from the landfill, Esther feels as if she knows Lucy’s family.
Her dad must be her rock, the one she goes to for a pick-me-up after a hard day.
Her mom would infuse everything with love, and she’d hug Lucy and tell her everything will work out if she keeps a little faith.
Her little brother was probably the pest who followed her around, yet also is her constant companion and first friend.
Just like Esther’s parents and younger siblings were when she was a kid.
At least, she hopes Lucy’s family was all of those things to her—hopes they still are. Even if no one else seems to be worried about where Lucy is, just like how Esther’s family would never know if something happens to her.
With a sigh, Esther flips through the pictures, pausing on the picture of Lucy’s parents’ wedding.
“I definitely can’t keep someone else’s parents’ wedding photo.
” She holds up the picture of young Lucy and her dad holding an infant, presumably Angel.
“I should probably give him back his own baby picture, too.”
As she flips through photo after photo, rationalizing why she should give them to Angel, when she really wants to keep them for herself, a small patch of her arm catches a draft, chilling down to her wrist. “Oh, sorry, did you want to see that?” She turns back to the picture of Lucy and her dad laughing on the porch swing. “That’s my favorite, too.”
With a groan, Esther sets the photos down. “It was just a draft.” She takes a deep breath and then a small sip of the too-bitter wine. “Still, though…Angel isn’t in this one. Maybe I’ll keep it for sentimental reasons. Just this one, though.”
An approving tug in her sternum helps her believe that Lucy would support her decision. That Angel doesn’t really need any of these. That she should keep them for herself.
“No, no, I shouldn’t be selfish,” Esther murmurs.
The draft in the apartment tickles her thigh by the pictures.
Esther flips through the stack some more, stopping when another cool draft blows gently on her wrist. Esther holds up a photo of an older photo of an African American couple, sharply dressed in suits and posing in front of a teal Cadillac convertible.
“Were these your grandparents? You had the same glasses that your grandma did.” Esther smiles—there’s something about cat-eye glasses that just made academia sexier.
Definitely the case for Lucy, at least. “I suppose there’s no harm in keeping this photo, too. ”
The intuitive twinge in her chest tells her that Lucy would agree. If only that were remotely possible, beyond Esther’s imagination.
Photos and books settled, Esther eyes the open door of her messy closet, where a dress hangs on the door hook. Not a dress, the dress. The classic black number with a pussybow collar that Lucy wore the first day Esther met her, when she came in to take care of her new-hire paperwork.
When Esther looked up at Gilda’s knock on her office door to see a willowy and elegant young woman standing next to her, her heart lurched in her chest. A sense of rightness, familiarity—that déjà vu feeling like the person standing next to Gilda was someone she was supposed to know.
That, or it was merely the attraction to a stunningly beautiful woman, way out of Esther’s league in every respect.
Dr. Monae’s rounded arms and broad shoulders in the sleeveless dress caught her attention.
She was impeccably styled, with a slim leather briefcase in one hand and coordinating heels with a single buckle across the ankle.
Her pussybow collar highlighted the brown skin on a swanlike neck, its slenderness emphasized by the short twist out haloing her charming features.
Lucy was a vision.
When the big brown eyes behind the cat-eye frames had captured Esther’s own, Lucy’s full lips had parted just enough to show the adorable gap in her teeth as her smile widened.
Ever the hopeless romantic, Esther immediately hoped that Cash had been right—that she and Lucy would hit it off. That they would become fast friends and maybe do that thing where they were basically dating and have a mutual secret crush, but they both think the other one just wants to be friends.