I Guess They Never Disappear

II

Trigger Warning: Homophobia, Mention of Suicide, Unhealthy Coping, Outing (Do Not Read if these are a trigger, please stay safe everybody!)

Zoe POV

I come back to the apartment to find it empty, save for Jasper sleeping on the back of the loveseat. 

Alana's at a lecture right now, although it'll end in an hour.

There's a letter sitting on the little table by the couch where all of our random shit collects in a pile. 

That's strange for two reasons: we don't have that many friends, and the few ones we have don't send cards in the mail. 

It's addressed to me. I check the return address. 32 Ashbury Heights (a/n: I don't think this is a real address. If it is, don't do anything rash, my children.), Rochester, NY 14610. 

Fuck.

_______________________________________________________________________—

I didn't think she'd try to send a letter after the Great Pansexual Outing of Zoe Murphy.

Cynthia has a thing for letters. It was one of those stupid phases she went through, like the yoga, or the gluten free, or the flower pressing. Anyways, she got into sending letters my freshman year of high school. Halloween, Christmas, birthdays, even the Fourth of July. 

She sent them to me all through college. I didn't bother to stop her, because they were mostly just stupid little frilly notes of how proud she was or how much she and Larry missed me. 

I didn't give her my new address when I was outed and moved up here with 'Lana.

I don't know how she found it.

Which is why this letter intrigued me. I could easily just toss it in the trash and pretend I never got it. It's not like I'm going to respond to it or anything. 

But I want to open it. 

I know I shouldn't. Larry and Cynthia aren't exactly on speaking terms with me right now, and so any letter from them, especially one in Cynthia's flowery handwriting, doesn't bode well for me. 

It's so tempting, though. I want to see what happened. 

I grab a knife from the kitchen and slit it open, against my better judgement. It's been five months or so. Maybe something has changed. 

On the front of the card there are two children, a boy and a girl, holding hands. 

Really subtle, Cynthia. 

Dear Zoe,

Your father and I haven't heard from you in a few months, and I must express my regret for this. 

Her regret?! Doubtful. 

I must admit, we were very shocked when you told us you were one of those queers. We'd never thought you would be one to go through such a childish phase.

So nothing has changed. This is exactly what happened when they called me after seeing a picture of me and Alana on Facebook. (We didn't take it, of course. But apparently, some people can't be trusted.)

We know you very well, though, Zoe, and both of us are positive that you aren't really one of those whatever-you-called-it. You like boys, sweetie, you've dated them before. 

Evan. I dated Evan Hansen. For maybe a month. In my junior year of high school. I don't get what that has to do with it, but trust my mom to come up with some stupid reason as to why this is disgusting to her.