Chapter 6
6
Esther
E sther prayed to all that was holy and listening Uncle Pete and Jason behaved themselves for one evening.
“Soup’s up,” called Uncle Pete from the kitchen. He wore his usual ratty T-shirt, vintage only because he’d kept it for so long, and his “comfy jeans.” She knew he owned nicer clothes. He just didn’t like to wear them unless they were going out. And she never would have asked that of him. She didn’t ask things of family—her whole housing situation had been negotiated through her mom’s insistence. But this was Ashley’s first time in Esther’s personal life, and a jittery energy in her leg wouldn’t rest until everything was perfect.
He carried the soup to the table, a reindeer oven mitt on each hand as he lugged the heavy pot by the handles. Jason scampered behind him with a set of crocheted hot pads for the table.
“Can I help with anything?” Ashley dove into the action, adjusting the hot pads Jason threw onto the table and following Uncle Pete into the kitchen for the bowls and utensils.
“Ashley, you’re a guest.” Esther followed them, partially to retrieve her side salad but mostly to monitor the situation.
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Ashley.” Ashley was shaking hands with Uncle Pete by the time Esther caught up.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ashley. Call me Pete. Uncle Pete if you’re feeling feisty. And that’s Jason running around somewhere. So, you’re Esther’s friend.” It wasn’t a question, more an accusation. As though Ashley was the first human Esther had brought to the house.
“I like to think so. Esther’s helping me out with my anthropology project. I’m here to see how dinner ticks. Any chance you’d be willing to walk me through it?”
“This your first time eating dinner?” He laughed at his own joke.
Without missing a beat, Ashley countered, “It’s my first time eating your dinner, Uncle Pete.”
She threw in some finger guns, and Uncle Pete laughed even more.
“Well, welcome aboard, Ashley.” He handed her some bowls, and she saluted sharply before turning back to the table.
She gave Esther a quick wink while passing her in the doorway, as though they were both in on some joke, though Esther wasn’t sure what the joke was. A spark zapped down her sternum, a part of her excited to be in on the secret and nearly distracting her from the mortification of Ashley being forced to set her own place at the table.
“Jason,” Uncle Pete called. “You’re in charge of spoons. Esther, come help me with drinks and toppings.”
She dropped the salad off on the table and ran back for cups before Ashley could be enlisted for another round.
In no time, the table was set, grace was said, bowls were filled with Uncle Pete’s Famous Taco Soup, and dinner was on.
“Hey, Jason, pass the sour cream. Ashley, you have to try a dollop of this. It’s what makes the soup.” Uncle Pete handed the tub back to Jason, who made a face and pushed it away.
“Yuck.”
Esther rolled her eyes. They went through this every time he made Taco Soup.
“Yuck?” Ashley squinted dramatically. “Are you trying to trick me, Uncle Pete?”
“Me?” Uncle Pete placed a hand on his chest, hamming up the moment. “I would never.”
This was the most animated they’d been together for a meal in a while. Esther marveled at Ashley’s ability to seamlessly ingrain herself in their routine and even bring out her uncle’s playful side. Why had she worried about her family when Ashley was here to smooth it all over?
“Esther,” Ashley said.
Esther jumped, forgetting she was at the table and not watching a dinner documentary.
Ashley was looking at her. “What do you say? Sour cream or no sour cream?”
Sour cream or no sour cream? Well, there were many factors to consider. Had the sour cream unknowingly expired? Can Ashley handle dairy? What were her taste preferences? So many variables with answers she didn’t have access to. On the one hand, it was her uncle’s recipe, and he preferred sour cream on his soup, which made sour cream truer to the experience. But on the other hand, there were many dietary risks of consuming sour cream. Should she risk putting Ashley’s stomach in danger of digestive issues or suggest she skip what was considered the true experience?
Her hands started to sweat, and she wondered how long she’d remained silent considering both options and their endless variables. A part of her knew this was the lowest of stakes. What was the worst that could happen if she gave the wrong answer? Her mind helpfully filled in the blank with an allergic reaction and calling 9-1-1, Ashley being so offended by the flavor she’d choke and die, and Ashley never speaking to her again after learning Esther had kept her from a full experience.
Her spiral into panic was interrupted by Jason’s laughter.
“Don’t ask Esther,” he said. “She gives bad advice.”
Ashley chuckled but stopped when no one joined her. “You’re serious?”
“She does have a bit of a reputation.” Uncle Pete took another spoonful of soup with a perfectly proportioned dollop of sour cream. “I mean, there was Aunt Clare’s hair.” He laughed to himself now. “You don’t recommend bangs a week before your wedding.”
“Oh, oh!” Jason bounced in his seat, eager to add to Esther’s humiliation. “What about that road trip where everyone threw up?”
“The family reunion!” Uncle Pete was roaring with laughter now. “I forgot Esther was the one to pick the restaurant. We all got food poisoning. Took out a whole public bathroom by the end of the night.”
Esther sank into her seat, her face heated. They weren’t wrong, but did they have to relive this now? In front of Ashley, the perfect person who could do no wrong. It only drew their differences into sharper relief. There was something wrong with Esther. Something that made her always choose the wrong option and only reiterated her need to avoid making decisions and to avoid people altogether. Uncle Pete and Jason hadn’t even brought up Esther’s worst suggestion on record. She needed to end this conversation before it got any worse.
“Well, that just sounds like a bunch of coincidences. I’d still like to hear Esther’s opinion on the sour cream.” Ashley smiled at Esther, her teeth bright, her head slightly tilted in the most encouraging way. As though saying, Go ahead, Esther. Prove your family wrong. Break the cycle .
But that wasn’t how this worked. It didn’t matter what answer Esther gave—it would be the wrong one, and she’d be to blame for whatever negative outcome. It could be small. It could even be nothing this time. But it could be something, and it could be life-changing. And she wasn’t ready to shoulder something like that. Not again.
“I don’t give advice,” Esther said.
“Esther, I—” Ashley started.
“Just leave it alone, okay,” she snapped. “Eat the soup however you want to eat it and leave me out of it.”
Esther continued eating her soup without the sour cream, and dinner was blissfully silent, aside from spoons scraping bowls. Ashley typed out a few notes on her phone but didn’t ask any more questions. Which was perfectly fine with Esther. This dinner was a reminder that people made her life difficult, and the sooner it was over, the sooner she could return to her peaceful solitude.
When Esther had scraped the last bit from her bowl, she stood, her chair screeching against the wood floor. “I’m finished. Can I take anyone else’s bowl?”
Jason passed her his, and she hurried off to the kitchen. She turned the sink to scalding and let the heat and menial task of rinsing dishes wash away the stress of the moment and the memory of her embarrassing outburst. The truth was Esther didn’t give bad advice—it was just that when she was presented with two options, a voice in her head rooted for the one that made the most waves. But she’d learned her lesson over and over again. The problem with picking the more exciting option was that it rarely worked out the way she might hope and people got hurt in the process. People she cared about. And they wouldn’t let her forget.
As she lowered the bowl to put it in the dishwasher, it was scooped up, and another dirty bowl was placed in her hand. Ashley had joined her, wordlessly loading the dishwasher while Esther rinsed the dishes.
“Hey,” Uncle Pete said.
Esther turned to find her uncle hanging in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Let me and Jason finish that up. You girls head upstairs and work on that project.”
“Are you sure, Uncle Pete?” Ashley was faster to answer, placing the last bowl in the dishwasher as Uncle Pete carried in the pot with the last of the soup. “It’s no trouble.”
“We are highly capable men, who happen to know our way around a kitchen. Isn’t that right, Jason?”
Leftover containers clattered to the floor as Jason climbed through the Tupperware cupboard.
“Well, holler if you need backup.” Ashley toweled off her hands and waited expectantly by the door.
A second passed before Esther registered it was her Ashley was waiting for. She toweled off and followed Ashley out of the kitchen. Esther wasn’t sure where they were going or if Ashley was leaving. Surely, she would say something. But Ashley continued putting one determined step in front of the other as she passed the front entryway and returned to the living room on the far end of the house. When she reached the exact center of the room, she turned on her heel to face Esther and placed her hands on her hips. The whole move was snappy and neat like she’d performed it hundreds of times. Her golden hair flew like a flag as it flipped over her shoulder and landed in the most delicate and perfect position, half of it trailing over the opposite shoulder and an artful tendril shadowing one eye.
“I don’t want to impose on you or anything,” Ashley said, “but if you wanted to show me around or just hang out, I don’t have anywhere to be.”
Something about that tendril of hair was distracting and making Esther’s thoughts go all fuzzy. Was it the nearness to Ashley’s eye? It was dangerous and precarious, and she wanted to brush it away to somewhere safer.
Esther’s fingers twitched at her side. She couldn’t touch her classmate’s hair. What if she accidentally swiped a finger across Ashley’s face, her cheek that rounded when she smiled. She wondered how soft it would be, how warm. She stepped forward, her feet betraying the warning signal going off in her mind, bringing her closer and closer like a moth to a flame until they were only an arm’s length apart.
Ashley’s smile dimmed as Esther drew nearer, her breaths growing slower and shallower, and as the smile faded, a spark in her eye grew brighter. A sea of fathomless sapphire, depths Esther could only imagine opened, as though her smile was nothing but a shield and, without it, a deeper and darker Ashley shone forth.
Esther craved this Ashley, the open and real one. But how to make her stay? Ashley’s lips parted, and Esther stared, transfixed, waiting for whatever would come out of them.
A pot clanged from the kitchen, followed by the long chiming of church bells. Right. Uncle Pete had put on his favorite AC/DC album.
“Did you want to go upstairs?” Esther asked as electric guitar accompanied the chiming of Hells Bells .
“Yes,” Ashley whispered then coughed and shook her head. “Yeah, sure. That sounds great.” Her smile was back in place.