Page 68 of Earthly Ties

Lucy puts her arms around her, drawing Esther under the water with her, delighting in the soft, comfortable warmth of her skin under her hands. “Of course, you can join me. Why did you get scared?”

Esther chews on her lower lip. “I can’t feel you anymore.” She taps her chest. “I could always feel you here after you…well, let’s say died for the sake of simplicity, because I assume you’ll find a brilliant explanation for where you went, but it’s all over my head. When you were dead, it was like you were in my body with me. And you’re not there anymore. I got scared that you were gone.”

Lucy rests her hand over Esther’s, enjoying the comforting thump of Esther’s heart through her palm. “I’m here. And I’m alive.” And she kisses Esther to prove it, water streaming down around them.

When they finally leave the bathroom, Lucy decides that she isn’t ready to wear her favorite dress yet. Even if she’s still too hungover to worship Esther the way she really wants to, the only place Lucy wants to be was in bed with her. So she takes her hand—such a monumental joy, being able to take Esther’s hand—and pulls her love back under the pillowy pink duvet. “Thank you. For hoping.”

As if sensing Lucy just wants to be close, Esther curls up around her, and Lucy practically purrs at being held by her East. Her touch, her dream girl, her affection is real. When was the last time she’d been held like this? Has she ever allowed herself to enjoy this with anyone else? So familiar after all their dreams, their year together, and yet nothing can compare because this is real. “You know, Defective Barrett is going to be so pissed about all of the paperwork he needs to do now that you’ve turned up alive.”

Lucy barks out a laugh. “Oh Lord, I’m going to have to come up with a reasonable story for where I was all year.” Lucy groans and pulls Esther close. “I wonder if Angel will be pissed that he has to act happy I’m alive.”

Esther shakes her head. “You know he won’t have to act. And I bet he’ll be glad he doesn’t have to do your taxes again next year.”

“Oh fuck! I have to do taxes?” Lucy whines, burying her face into her neck. She presses a kiss to the tattoo hidden behind Esther’s ear. That is easier than thinking about how to reconnect with her brother. Now that she knows it’s possible to come back from the ghostly plane, maybe she can help her father find his way back. Even if it means bringing back her mother too.

“You have to work, too. I’m tired of doing your job,” Esther teases. “After all, we should get a bigger place.”

Esther’s assumption that they’ll live together makes Lucy grin; she doesn’t want to be anywhere Esther isn’t, and the confirmation that Esther feels the same is a warm balm she didn’t know she needed.

Her East will still be her home.

The sheer joy of being alive, being with Esther, far outweighs the undercurrent of life’s anxieties burning through her. Taxes, rent, interpersonal relationships, her brother—all things that she can’t—won’t—neglect anymore. For the first time, she’s thrilled to face them all, with Esther at her back. Even work. “Oh, Gilda’s going to kill me!”

“Don’t worry, Luce.” Esther presses her lips to Lucy’s neck, and Lucy melts under her kiss. “I’ll be with you when you face Gilda. I just got you—well, not back. I just got you for the first time, and I want to keep you.”

Good Grief

Epilogue

“Ihave a question before we begin.” Lucy sits next to Esther, who unzips the bag at her feet. The leather love seat creaks under them as Lucy edges close enough for Esther to feel the warmth of her thigh. “Well, two questions.”

With a fond smile over her shoulder at her wife, Esther unpacks the microphone, plugging it into the sound amplifier. How might Lucy give the speech this time? After so many attempts, will this be the time their unbelievable pitch finally finds an audience?

The two therapists they’re seeing today exchange a look and a nod. “Go ahead,” says the woman. Michelle, she said to call her.

“I just want to reconfirm you’re okay with us recording, in addition to the sound amplifier,” Lucy rests an elegant hand on the microphone in the center of the table. “We’ll keep it confidential, of course, but it does help the process when we can go back and transcribe everything, and we might pick up on other sounds we can’t easily hear.”

“If you think it’s necessary,” Gordon nods. “And if it’s more comfortable for you, that’s fine.”

“Excellent. We appreciate the cooperation.” Lucy smiles. Polite, professional, reserved, but still breathtaking, as far as Esther is concerned. All of Lucy’s expressions make her heart race, even after two years together. Every one she has the privilege, the honor to witness echoes with the memory of how each of Lucy’s smiles, each giggle, each teasing smirk curled in her heart. “Now for my second question: do you believe in ghosts?”

Michelle and Gordon exchange a look. The two therapists, a Black woman and a white man, had been Angel’s idea. Both had experience with clients of all faith backgrounds. Both someone each of the Monaes could relate to, to some degree, without feeling like they wouldn’t be understood. Considering this was their eighth attempt at family therapy, Esther was willing to do whatever they needed to finally have a real conversation with either of the spectral Monaes. Because this would take time. It was one thing to hear them; it was another to communicate.

“I believe that no matter what the truth is, we carry our loved ones with us after they pass, that they live on in our hearts,” Michelle says carefully.

Esther presses her lips together to fight her laughter. If only Michelle knew.

Gordon simply nods in agreement. “Our own beliefs don’t really matter in this. It’s what you believe that drives the conversation.”

Behind them, Angel lets out a derisive snort. He’s looking out the window, hands behind his back as Lucy and Esther set everything up. The midday sun behind the blinds casts him in streaks of light. “That’s what they all say. Then I get a call from a priest for a consultation for an exorcism.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Behind her cat-eye glasses, Lucy’s eyes roll ever so slightly. “That only happened twice.”

“Easy for you to say, I almost ended up committed when I told my old therapist about this,” Angel snarks.

“Oh yes, we know how that word scares you,” Lucy retorts.

“To the psych ward, Lucifer, not a relationship.” Esther can practically hear her brother-in-law rolling his eyes, just like Lucy had a second ago. “Though God forbid a guy date around in his twenties, instead of marrying their coworker a month after coming back from the dead.” He clears his throat. “No offense, Esther.”