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Esther looked around as though just noticing how many religious objects surrounded them. Her cheeks pinkened appetizingly. If Ashley were able to function at full capacity instead of ignoring angry effigies radiating invisible fire at her, she would take this moment to curve the conversation into something light and easy. The weather, classwork, hobbies. She’d used these go-to conversations so often that even now they came to her in this fiery hell, but only as buzzwords.
Short of shouting, “Weather!” at Esther, she wasn’t sure how to fix this.
“I have a complicated relationship with Catholicism, to be honest.” Esther brushed her hair behind one ear and tapped her socked toe on the hardwood floor behind her. “It has its faults, but there’s also what you said, the community aspect. It’s my childhood. I’ve identified with it so long that to deny it would feel like denying I was born.” She chuckled lightly, and Ashley begged her silently to continue. “It has its merits. I like that it leaves room for the gray parts of us.”
“The gray parts?” Ashley had grown up in a casually Methodist household, so her knowledge of Catholicism was slim. She knew generally about the idea of saints and Mary being a big deal but had hoped there was enough of a crossover that she could still keep up with the conversation.
“The idea that an imperfect person can still go to heaven. Purgatory specifically. Heaven and hell are so all-or-nothing. Purgatory leaves the door open so you don’t end up condemninganyone. I like the idea that a whole religion left room for the gray.”
“Oh my god, you’re a marshmallow.”
“I’m a what?” Esther’s brows furrowed, and her nose scrunched in an adorably put-off way.
Ashley was being unfiltered again. She blamed Jesus. “No, wait. If there’s a redemption arc available for everyone, would anyone go to hell?”
“If it were my cosmology…” Esther blushed and looked off somewhere over Ashley’s shoulder. “I guess everyone would get a chance at a redemption arc, as you put it.”
Ashley laughed with delight at the new depths she’d discovered. “Yes, you’re a marshmallow. You give off this hot, badass, goth chick vibe, but in your heart of hearts, you’re an optimist who believes, even in death, everyone deserves a second chance. You’re a hard shell with a soft, gooey center.”
Esther’s foot tapped faster, and her face got so red Ashley wondered if the heat from the relics was getting to her as well.
Despite how much physical pain she was in, Ashley loved this. When was the last time she had a conversation with someone that meant something? Even before her transformation, she had a reputation to keep up. You didn’t become cheer captain and class president by discussing politics, life goals, and people’s thoughts on the universe. You won by knowing everyone’s name, one fun fact about them, and constantly providing an aura of happiness through easy, mindless conversation.
Well, screw the weather, what were Esther’s thoughts on reincarnation?
Hurried stomping echoed from the other room before the boy from earlier burst in, grabbing the door frame as he ran so that only the top half of him swung in to look at them.
“Dinner’s ready,” he screeched before running back to wherever he came from.
“I guess that’s our cue,” said Esther.
“Please, let’s pick this up again later. I am fascinated.” Ashley wanted nothing more than to hear Esther describe her views on right and wrong, good and evil, and the ideal cosmology of Esther. She touched Esther’s arm lightly, giving a gentle caress with her thumb, and heard Esther’s heart rate increase. That was a fun trick. She let Esther lead her through the door the small boy had scampered through.
“Did you bring your notebook? I wasn’t sure if I should tell them about the project or not. On the one hand, it’s ethical to let people know they’re part of a project, but on the other hand, they will be weirder than normal in an attempt to not be weird, which will inevitably ruin your study.”
Ashley smiled. “Let’s tell them. I like weird.”
6
Esther
Esther 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.
