Page 67 of Earthly Ties

Esther wraps her hands around Lucy’s neck and waist and pulls her closer, kissing her back as if she might never get to do so again.

Lucy breaks away, breathless with a manic grin on her face, despite the throbbing pain from bending down. “Wow.”

“Wow is right.” Esther beams, her blue eyes heavy from sleep and her brown curls a mess across the pillow. Absolute perfection in every tangible, kissable feature. Tears flood her lovely eyes, even as her lips manage to form a teasing smirk. “Your morning breath is atrocious. Very garlicky. Notes of stale wine and dry mouth.”

Lucy crows with laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks as she covers her mouth. “I have morning breath? Oh god, I haven’t brushed in a year, and I just kissed you! I’m so sorry!”

“Like you’re always telling me: don’t apologize for things out of your control. And never apologize for kissing me.” Esther surges up onto her elbows to kiss Lucy again, a quick, chaste kiss that leaves Lucy hungry for more. “I’ll take hungover garlic breath over cold nothing any day.” Curling around her, Esther laughs with Lucy until their giggles mellow into soft murmurs of delight. “Now, go pee, so I can really kiss you.”

Lucy’s exuberant joy falters, and panic fills her instead. Her throat closes, brain faltering around her thoughts.

“What’s wrong?”

Lucy can’t answer, her tongue caught by the roof of her mouth. She furrows her eyebrows. What isn’t wrong? Is there any way to answer this question without sounding like a child? Without sounding like a burden?

But no, this is Esther, her East, her sunrise bells. Esther would want to know about this. Esther would share this vulnerability with her, sing it out to the world like she wasn’t showing the world where it could hurt her the most. Lucy just spent a year learning it’s safe to share every feeling and thought with this woman. She can’t fall back into silence, not with Esther.

In a throaty whisper, Lucy asks, “What if this ends? What if this is me about to move on? What if this isn’t real? Come with me? Please?”

Esther leans up on her elbows, running her hand up and down Lucy’s thigh. “I’m here. I promise.”

“Sorry,” Lucy whispers, her vision blurred. Now that she’s said it out loud, it sounds ridiculous. But the dread of losing this aches. “If this is real, if being alive again is permanent, I’ll get used to being on my own. But I’ve been in the same room as you every moment for the past year. And I’m not sure what’ll happen if I go in there alone. What if that’s it? Like the final doorway?”

“Luce, your door is stone and metal with bird shit all over it.” With a kind smile, Esther’s blue eyes look at her in earnest. “This is a bathroom door. It’s okay to be scared, but this isn’t the end.”

Lucy nods. Esther’s unfounded reassurance strengthens her resolve. “It’s not the end. It’s my first of many times being alone again.”

Esther reaches up to touch her face. “Never alone. I’m here. You’re here. We’re not alone anymore, not even when we have to piss.”

Lucy huffs out a laugh and nods. “Okay. Be right back.”

She swings her feet over the edge of the bed and takes a few hesitant steps to the bathroom. “Oh, this is so nice! Your rug is so fluffy! I’m walking, East!”

Esther grins behind her. “I can see that. Looks good from this angle.”

Lucy shoots her a smirk over her shoulder. “I will need to wear clothes eventually.”

Esther shakes her head. “Nope, I finally get to look at you in real life. Plus nothing I have will fit you. You’re six sizes smaller than me and really tall.”

“I said eventually, East. Not right away.” Pushing through her panic, Lucy closes the bathroom door behind her, thankful beyond measure when she doesn’t fade into nothingness.

Pissing has never felt so joyous. Lucy finds a spare toothbrush, squinting at herself in the mirror as she brushes her teeth. At the stretch marks and blemishes from her acne scars. At her brown skin, with warm undertones, instead of just ashen and translucent. So familiar, so normal, exactly how she remembers. And yet, she’s never appreciated herself more. Lucy can feel her own touch as her fingers trace each blemish, see herself without an ever-present veil and a shroud.

A whole year has passed since she bathed, and while her body has technically been in a weird stasis, that year is very apparent to her nose. Her sense of smell is definitely working, even if her sight is blurry again. The wine she drank a year ago wafts from every pore.

Lucy pops her head out of the door. “Can I take a shower? You’re too polite to say anything, but I stink, and a shower sounds like heaven.”

Sitting up eagerly where she waited in bed, Esther winks. “Of course! Can I join you?”

Lucy simply grins in response and leaves the door open. She runs the shower to cleanse herself of purple glitter, stale sweat, and death. The bathroom echoes with her voice as she hums to herself, with the squeak of the taps as she turns them, instead of passing through the metal handles. The steaming water pouring from the showerhead burns her skin as rivulets run down her body, pleasant in comparison to how life used to burn through her. To be alone is delightful at first, to exist in a blissful solitude that she missed, but it hurts her heart as soon as the thought enters her mind.

“No, not alone.” Lucy is by herself. “Solitude, not loneliness.” For the first time since she appeared in Esther’s bed one year ago, Lucy is in control of herself. She can choose what she wants to do. And she can feel and experience everything so much sharper.

Except for the vision. That’s blurry. She needs to get glasses again. But once armed with new glasses, Lucy can forever decide where her body goes. Where her life will lead.

Just so long as Esther is in it.

Within minutes, Esther steps into the shower with her. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to join you or not. But I remembered I still have a dress of yours that you can wear if you want, so I came to tell you that. Also, I got scared and wanted to make sure you were still real.”