The Moth

Chapter Forty-Five: Rooftops// Exhale

Chapter Forty-Five: Rooftops// Exhale

"Who'd you lose?"

I turned, eyes heavy with sleep. "What?"

Cecilia rocked back and forth, arms wrapped around her knees, hugging them to her chest. She'd come back just yesterday, not explaining her absence. We were sitting outside my window again.

"You lost someone."

I yawned, shaking my head. "I already told you. My parents are just going through... a rough period. They're living separately now."

"That's all?" She stared at me.

I nodded and turned away.

Her hand settled on my arm and I tensed, glancing over at her.

"Noel..."

She sighed. "You're not telling me something."

"No, I'm not."

"Is it that friend you talked about?" she pressed. "You seem distant, and you don't talk about her."

I swallowed, closing my eyes.

"Oi, listening goes both ways. I talked. Now it's your turn."

I sighed as she scooted closer. "It's been two years since she died."

"Your friend."

I nodded then stopped. "Well, no. A different one. Mutual friend. Evelyn."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. It doesn't bother me too much anymore. She was great but we weren't extremely close. It's my sister—"

"You have a sister?"

I laughed, ears burning. "Not a literal blood sister, I just call her that 'cause we grew up together, though she's two years younger than me. She's the one taking it hard. I haven't heard from her in a while and it's been messing me up."

"What's her name?"

"Zeenath."

"Have you called her?"

I nodded. "She doesn't pick up."

"I'm taking it this isn't normal for her."

"Well, not usually. There was this...almost one year span after Evelyn died when she didn't contact me at all. But after that, we've talked every now and then." I pursed my lips. "But Evelyn's birthday would have been a couple weeks ago..." I trailed off.

"And you're worried she'll cut you off again."

I didn't say anything.

"She'll come back, don't worry," she said quietly.

"How do you know that?"

"I know things." She paused. "Give her space to figure things out by herself. You can't hold her hand through everything. She came around before, right?"

"But—"

She tugged my arm and I turned back to her.

"Look. She'll be okay. She's not two years old."

"Mm."

I leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Thanks."

She stiffened and moved away, looking down. "You're welcome."

"Wait." I grabbed her arm and looked at her neck. "What's —"

She swatted my hand away and curled up, straightening the scarf around her neck. "Please don't touch me."