Page 36 of Earthly Ties

“You are not going to teach remotely,” Gilda interrupts. “And you’re not okay. I know I have a reputation for being a heartless bitch—and trust me, I want to keep that reputation—but we put Pox protocols in place for a reason. Cash tried to act all tough too, and look where that got him.” Gilda’s voice grows strained, and she clears her throat. “I’m not letting anyone else teach until they’ve recovered. You need to take care of yourself. No one will think less of you for taking time off while you wait to see how your case develops.”

Esther’s blue eyes glass over and she nods, whispering out, “Okay.”

I never expected to appreciate Gilda so much as right now, but Esther needed to hear that from someone. Gilda has always acted like Cash’s death didn’t matter, but regret is palpable in her tone.

“Call it in. I’ll let your students know that classes today are canceled, and they should isolate for two weeks, but they’re still expected to complete assignments and group discussions.” Gilda clears her throat again, her regular stern tone back as if attempting to hide her moment of humanity. “Allan and I will be their point of contact for questions, and our TAs will grade work for the intro courses. Depending on how your case develops, we’ll start you back with remote teaching in a couple weeks until you’re no longer contagious, or get a more long-term solution if you need longer to recover. Where is your patch, anyway?”

“The back of my neck.” Esther’s voice cracks as she says it.

“Oh, honey,” Gilda coughs, muttering a curse under her breath. “We’ll make it four weeks before we visit the remote learning plan, then. There are some counselors on the resource guide the Dean will send you with your short-term disability info. Use them.”

Esther curls around herself further. “Okay.”

“And be sure to tell them that when you call in your case, that it’s on your neck. They’ll give you the good drugs. Remember how Cash was during his last department meeting?” Gilda’s laugh is thick. “High as a fucking kite. Made us do a singalong and then recorded it without telling us.”

“His wife said he used to listen to it in the hospice center.” Esther nods, a tearful chuckle escaping her. “Remember how he tried to write a limerick about Allan? It didn’t rhyme, though.”

Gilda snorts. “If you write a limerick about me, I’m terming your contract.”

“Understood. No poetry.” Esther laughs. “I’ll let you know if I need a singalong video to keep me company.”

Hand still pressed to Esther’s neck, I find myself ill at ease listening to their conversation. Cash had called me to tell me he had the Pox, and his case wasn’t looking good. But I didn’t answer. Over and over again, I listened to the voicemail, trying to work up the nerve to call. Every single time, I failed.

Instead of being there for him like Esther and Gilda were, I wrote him off. I ignored his wife’s call a few days later; I only listened to her voicemail once, which was an update that he couldn’t speak anymore. Even though he didn’t pass for another week, he was already gone, like my mom and brother. An easy way out, so I wouldn’t have to face my own cowardice and anxiety.

Cash was my only friend, and the guilt has ached since that first phone call I watched go to voicemail. All this time, I have hated myself; I failed him when he was dying and alone. Endless nights, drowning in regret at my own stubborn determination to be lonely.

I refuse to do it again.

As guilty as I feel, Cash wasn’t alone. He had friends, like Esther and Gilda. A family who loved him. People who were there for him, in the end, even if it was in a silly video. Avoiding my grief left me more alone than him. I failed myself as much as I failed him.

With a heavy swallow, I set my jaw against the burn in my hand as I press harder against the inflamed skin on Esther’s neck.

I won’t fail again. Not this time. Not my East. Not myself. I may not be here for her physically, but I’ll do everything in my power to see her through this, regardless of how this herald patch spreads. Even if I can’t do anything she’ll notice, I have to try. For my sake, and hers, even if she doesn’t know I’m here for her.

Unlike Cash, Esther is just as alone as I was.

Last Date

Lucy gave up any pretense of being a functioning adult as she stepped through the gate, greeting Esther by belly flopping onto the cloud blanket next to her. Lucy’s gate creaked shut with a loud clang, blocking out all the bullshit, all the responsibilities waiting for her, all of the endless feelings Lucy didn’t want to acknowledge in the waking world.

“Luce, you okay?” Esther rubbed Lucy’s back, while Lucy exhaled heavily into the cloud. “You seem a little off. Was that nosedive for fun, or from frustration? Or something else?”

With a grin of delight from finally being in the dreamscape again, with Esther again, Lucy rolled over. She wrapped her arms around Esther’s waist, pressing a kiss to her mouth in response to her endless, endearing questions.

“Ah. I see.” Esther smirked, smacking her lips, tasting Lucy’s kiss. “You’re drunk off your ass.”

Lucy nodded. “I’ve had a lot of wine. And pasta!”

“Oh, you did?” Esther’s grin burst from her face, her blue eyes dancing as she beamed at Lucy. “Enough wine to talk to me for once, it seems.”

Lucy nodded again, too serious and feeling ridiculous about how she must look with her furrowed brow and tight jaw. But she was unable to shake the heavy hold of her soul-deep sadness washing over her again. Not even after a box of wine, not even in her dreams, not even in Esther’s arms, was Lucy free from it. “I know. I’m a mess. My emotions were too big to handle today. I needed to drown them. And now I’m talking to a figment of my imagination like you actually care about me.” She groaned, burying her face in Esther’s shoulder. “When did I get so weak?”

“I do care about you, though! And aren’t you a figment of my imagination?” Esther brushed her thumb over Lucy’s cheekbone, tilting her head back to kiss her forehead. “And if it is weak to have a conversation in your dreams, wouldn’t I be the weak one? And given that your emotions were too-”

“Esther.” Lucy put her finger to Esther’s lips. “You ask so many questions, all at once. I love to listen to you ask them, but how do you ever get any answers?”

“I don’t.” With an amused smile, Esther kissed Lucy’s finger. “But my point is, I do care about you. So much, Lucy. I wish I was brave enough to talk to you in real life.” Her soft grin faded into a pensive, wistful expression. “I want to have this with you when I wake up in the mornings. You’re just so easy to love.”