Page 73 of Like A Moth To A Flame

With a sigh, Amelia pried the spatula out of my hand and gently eased me away from the stove.

“I’ll do this. You go sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down!”

“I saidsit!”

So I did. I marched over to the table and lowered myself into one of Dad’s rickety chairs, my legs crossed and my foot bouncing in annoyance. Amelia took over the cooking, and within a few minutes, good smells were drifting through the small space.

“So, tell me the truth,” she said, stirring the eggs with the same spatula she’d snatched from me. “You’re kinda like… into this, right? Like, that’s why you’re like, going along with it?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I shrugged. “But I also wouldn’t say that’s wrong. It’s more curiosity than anything.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow, still stirring the eggs.

“You know what they say about curiosity. Watch out for your kitty cat.”

She flashed me a wink and made a noise like a horny cat.

Beautiful. Just the visual I needed.

I sighed, leaning back in the chair.

“Yes. I know.”

The rest of the day was a lot more calming. We had breakfast and then retreated upstairs to go through some of my mom’s old clothes. Fighting cramps, I sat on the floor and looked through dusty boxes. Some of these would fit me.

“Is that weird?” I asked, looking across the room at Amelia, trying on one of my mom’s old sun hats. “If I wore my mom’s old clothes?”

Amelia twirled in front of the mirror, adjusting the hat on her head before turning to face me with a grin.

“Not at all! It’s like you’re carrying on her legacy or something. Plus, vintage istotallyin right now,” she reassured me.

I smiled back at her, feeling a sense of comfort for the first time in a long time. It was nice to think that wearing my mother’s clothes could keep her memory alive.

As we continued sorting through the boxes, I stumbled upon a familiar-looking dress that brought back a flood of memories. It was the one my mother used to wear all the time, the one that always smelled faintly of her perfume. Without thinking, I brought it up to my nose and pulled in a deep sniff.

The smell was still there—lilacs, jasmine, and baby powder. It hadn’t changed.

Immediately, I choked up, dropping it into my lap.

Amelia noticed the change in my demeanor and walked over to me. She plopped down beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You okay?”

I nodded, blinking back tears.

“I just miss her, ya know?”

Amelia sat down next to me, her presence a comforting weight on my shoulder. I let out a shuddering breath, trying to compose myself.

“I know,” she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. “I’m sorry, love.”

We sat in silence for a moment. The only sound filling the room was the ticking of the old grandfather clock on the wall. I wiped away a stray tear, feeling my emotions settle in my chest like a heavy stone.

“I just wish I knew what she would say now,” I said with a shrug, letting my hands stray over the dress. “About the house, and dad, and…”

I trailed off, letting the words hang in the air. She knew exactly what I meant.

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