13. a flashback in a film reel

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Dedicated to Estesmybestie for beta reading! I love everyone who comments and I try to get back to every single one within like a day.
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March 26th, 2020.

Cinnamon and lemon permeated the air as Taylor twirled around the kitchen in her pajamas and an old knit sweater listening to Van Morrison and Joni Mitchell. She held a bottle of honey, lingering next to the oven as the clock ticked on. It was nearly one in the morning, but she was right on time.

Every year on March 26th, she made the same little smash cake, a southern style hummingbird cake with Tupelo honey drizzle. It was her favorite when she was a kid. She could never make it as well as Andrea, but that wasn't the point of this tradition. It was her torch to carry, baking the cake by herself, at least for this one morning.

She was only allowed one.

She rooted through the pantry organizers for candles. Usually she either used one candle or forgot them entirely, but last year she'd done thirteen, as crowded as it left the top.

She watched the time on the oven closely. There wasn't a timer ticking down, she didn't want to wake anyone. How ironic it was that at the end of the 13th year there were people to wake; It was like she'd willed it into existence.

It felt wrong now, baking the cake in a house that wasn't empty. Her children were home. Joe was home.

Joe had been with her last year, holding her hand and twirling her around as they waited for the cake to cool in the fridge. He'd helped her frost it, dotted her nose with what was left in the bowl, trying to cheer her up.

She'd thought that if anything were to change from the last cake, it would have been to do with him. Maybe they'd be married or they'd have a kid.

She asked him not to chaperone tonight. He was upstairs keeping guard. This would be hard to explain if little eyes walked in near the end, and she wouldn't have the heart to lie.

When she found the candles, she counted out fourteen for the fourteenth year, then flinched and put back all but one.

She couldn't do that again. This wasn't to keep track of time she'd lost, it was a tribute to the time she'd had.

And anyways, a week from now there would be fourteen candles on another cake. She shouldn't ruin that, even if the other girl would never know.

Taylor took the cake out of the oven and let it rest for a few minutes, then moved it to the fridge to cool faster.

She watched the clock for half an hour, the sleeves of her cardigan pulled up to her elbows as she whipped together buttercream frosting. she put it in the fridge, spatula and all, before she lumbered back to the counter to stare at the clock. It had been a rough day, even for a March 26th eve. She'd lied about the butter, right to Kennedy's face.

Taylor rubbed at her chest as she spun the honey bottle in circles on the counter. Her ritual had never felt this wrong before. So why was it starting to feel so bad?

This used to be healing. This used to be a way to grieve.

Her eyes darted towards the hallway, but it was empty. She shook her head at herself and took the cake out of the fridge. She iced it carefully, then drizzled the honey on top.

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