Page 27 of Earthly Ties

But Angel has posted nothing.

Not a damn thing about his missing, presumed-dead sister.

Just another gym selfie posted an hour ago, touting his new PR for his bench press. And then he asked his “female fans” to leave a kiss emoji if he could bench them.

“Barf,” Esther says.

“Barf is an understatement.” I frown, my eyebrows pinching together as pressure swells behind my eyes. I don’t know what I expected. We’d only spoken the once since Mom kicked me out. Neither of them ever showed care or concern for me in all the years since. He never reached out on my birthday or holidays. Growing up, he always parroted Mom’s insults, and snitched anytime I did something “sinful” (basically anytime I didn’t let him get his way).

Since he was Mom’s little cherub, I had to let him walk all over me. He and Mom idolized each other, and I was the one who got blamed and punished for everything. There was never love lost between us.

So I shouldn’t feel hurt that he doesn’t care that I died.

But I do.

“Your mom is missing, too?” Esther clicks a pinned post about Mom’s disappearance, still up from a few years ago. “Why would he have old posts about your mom missing, but not a single mention of you?”

“Why indeed?” I respond rhetorically, the lump in my throat making it hard to talk.

“Maybe Defective Barrett didn’t explain the situation well. He is kind of a dipshit.”

I chuckle halfheartedly. She’s not wrong. With Detective Barrett in charge of the investigation, I’m never going to find out how I died. The missing white girls get media attention, and I’ll become yet another Black woman whose case quietly goes cold. If my only family member isn’t concerned about my disappearance, no one will push for answers.

“Maybe I just need to tell him.” She clicks the message button and sends a “hello” before I can stop her. Not that I could stop her, but I would have tried if she’d thought about it for more than half a second! Esther hums approvingly. “Okay, what should I say next?”

“Oh my god!” My hands cover my mouth as I spin in circles around her. “Why did you do that? You’re so impulsive sometimes!”

Charging full speed ahead, Esther types up an explanation about how she’s a friend of mine, and she’s so sorry for what he’s going through when his mom is already missing.

Only she sends each thought one at a time, instead of one longer, edited message—my personal pet peeve. By the time she types the seventh message (an invitation to meet so she can give him some personal belongings of mine), my not-eyelid is twitching from annoyance instead of panic.

With a shake of my head, I tell her, “He’s not going to respond.” I feel inclined to be helpful, even if this is a bad idea.

Ugh god, what if he does respond? Maybe he’ll be such a douche that Esther blocks him. That’s the best case scenario, honestly. Better for her to find out through DM than in person, because I already know she’s going to want to have a heart-to-heart—not that Angel has one. “You need to appeal to his ego if you want him to do something. You can’t phrase it like you’re doing him a favor. You have to imply that he’d be a good person if he does respond.”

It seems Esther unintentionally agrees with me. That, or she subconsciously heard me. She adds two more messages explaining how it’d be nice to process with someone who knew me as well as he did, and she can meet him anywhere that is convenient for him. “Would that be enough?”

“Bitch, yes! You’ve sent him nine messages. Stop!”

“Oh, he’s replying!” Esther shimmies nervously, her shoulder searing through my neck repeatedly. No amount of Life in the world would keep me away from reading his response.

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.