Thirteen #2
“Mom did. Lucifer did whatever she wanted whenever she felt like it, no matter how hard it made things for us. Just like dear old Dad.” Angel shakes his head slowly.
“I called her once when Mom went missing. I was quarantined with a shitty case of the Pox—right on the tailbone! Thought I was a goner, but luckily it went up my back. Anyway, I couldn’t go check on her to see if Mom was okay.
I only called Lucy after it’d been almost a month since I’d last heard from her, just to see if she could at least drive by the house.
She wouldn’t have even had to talk to her, just make sure the mail wasn’t piling up.
” Angel scoffs, and the bitterness in his voice lands a heavy blow.
“In typical Lucifer fashion, she told me she didn’t care and hung up on me.
I wasn’t allowed to leave my place for several more weeks, and by then, Mom had been missing for months. ”
Guilt curdles my stomach. I indeed did say that I didn’t care Mom was missing, and I stand by it.
But I hadn’t known Angel had been forced to stay at home, sick and isolated, when she disappeared.
I hadn’t given him the chance to tell me.
Mom wouldn’t have anyone else who would care if she was missing.
The apple never falls far from the tree; I got my isolationist streak from her.
It may not have made a difference, but I could have been a little more empathetic to my brother’s situation.
It wasn’t his fault that Mom treated me the way she did.
I can only blame him for following her lead.
Mom’s ghost strokes Angel’s hair, an arm of the shapeless white veil ruffling his curls.
Just like in life, all her affection belongs to him.
With a huff, I let out a silent, sardonic laugh.
The only difference between now and my childhood is that there’s no chance of Mom yelling at me, or Angel antagonizing me.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone,” Esther murmurs.
“Yeah, well, Lucy was never there for us. Why would she start when we needed her?” Attempting to cover the tremor in his voice, Angel puts on an obviously fake smolder and finishes his drink.
“I feel like I can really connect with you, Esther. And since it’s getting late in the evening, could I tell you more over a nightcap at my apartment? ”
I roll my eyes at his audacity. Any empathy I had for him vanishes with the reemergence of his fuckboy persona.
I stand corrected; he can still antagonize me.
Why the fuck does he get to creep on my Tie, so easily, so sleezily, when I have to scream and shout and stomp my feet just to lie to myself that her subconscious can hear me?
Esther doesn’t hide her cringe this time. “With all due respect, I came here to talk about Lucy, not to slander her. Or to sleep with her brother. Or get used as an emotional dumping ground, or whatever you’re suggesting.”
I want to applaud the assertiveness and the determination in Esther’s tone. She may have a soft valley girl voice, but damn, she sure can turn down a proposition from a straight man.
The problem is that her reply has caused Mom to pay attention to Esther. Or scream about Esther, rather. She flickers in and out of brightness, as if trying to ground herself so Angel might hear her. Her voice certainly is loud and clear to me.
“This bitch isn’t good enough for you! She’s just like your sister! Arrogant! Conceited! She’ll just hurt you and use you. Just like your deadbeat father did to me!”
For a second, I feel bad for Angel again.
Sure, he was always closer to Mom and—by all appearances—took her disappearance hard.
But this is what he’s had haunting him in the years since Mom disappeared?
No wonder he’s so conceited and misogynistic, if this is what’s permeating his subconscious every time he tries to get laid.
Either time or death, or both, have turned Mom into the worst version of herself.
Preachy and dramatic is an understatement now.
But then he opens his damn mouth and scoffs. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t bother with any female below a nine, let alone a chubby six.”
I rise from the chair, ready to defend my Tie, even if it means confronting Mom. Esther is absolutely a ten! But I freeze, my courage failing, as another shroud flickers faintly into view over Angel’s other shoulder.
“Trust, dude, we’re not each other’s target market,” Esther laughs as she leans back in her chair, taking a deep swig of her seltzer, oblivious to my growing panic beside her. “I just came to talk about Lucy and give you the pictures. Believe it or not, some women aren’t interested in you.”
I can’t take my eyes away from the second veil, the brightness solidifying next to Mom.
“Don’t listen to her, Angel. You know your mom is wrong. This is a friend of your sister’s. Treat her with respect!”
I can barely make out the outline of the veil, but I remember that voice, faint as it is. That voice used to read me stories in bed, sing with me on the porch, and tell me he loved me. That voice is one I haven’t heard since I was six.
“Shut up! You don’t deserve to talk to him!” Mom turns to the veil next to hers. “You abandoned him!”
“You kept him from me!”
“Dad?”
Both ghosts turn to me.
“You?” Mom’s disbelief is tinged with hatred. “Why are you here?”
“Lucy? Is that really you?” Dad’s face isn’t visible through his translucent veil, but the disbelief in his voice is laced with confusion. “You’re here? On this plane?”
“You’re Tied to him? To Angel?” My voice trembles. The realization hurts more than anything Mom ever did to me.
“No, it’s not like that.” Dad’s veil flickers in and out as he shakes his head. “I always thought you’d be okay! Why are you here? How?”
“You don’t deserve to be with him!” Mom snaps. “You deserve Hell!”
Anger surges through me. “You left me with her, and you thought I’d be okay?
Yeah, I’m so okay that I drank myself to death.
Like father, like daughter! Blacked out so hard, I don’t even know how I fucking died!
” My voice cracks. “And no one fucking cares that I’m dead.
Not even Angel! And why would he? Why would anyone?
Apparently, not even my own father cared about me! ”
“You always were so independent. Like you didn’t need anyone. You didn’t need me.” Dad lets out a sharp noise that better fucking not be a sob!