Work Text:
Stephanie Lauter started as a daddy’s girl, his ‘October surprise’ he would say. He’d been the more laid back one compared to her mother, though that wasn’t saying much. She just fussed about the little things too much and her dad let her have snacks before dinner. Still, her mother was home more often so it was no surprise when she started becoming a mama’s girl.
When Stephanie was five, her mom let her help in the garden. She had always loved looking at the autumn colored flowers her mom planted. They were mostly marigolds, her mom explained, one of the flowers for October. Steph wished aloud to be as pretty as the flowers. Her mom started calling her ‘her little marigold’.
When Stephanie was eight, her mom showed her how to use her fancy work camera. She didn’t quite understand it, but she thought taking pictures was one of the coolest things she’d seen. She asked her mom to take her picture constantly — with her dad, with the flowers, on a random Thursday night indoors — anywhere she remembered. Eventually, most of the photos of Steph were with the flowers she was nicknamed after and her mom loved every second of it.
When Steph was eleven, her mother passed. Steph was quiet the whole ride home from school. When her and her father pulled into the driveway, the house was dark. It had never been that dark before.
For days, she struggled to eat much — how could she with all the photos on the door of the fridge? She barely left her room anyway, the pictures of her mother on the walls made her feel too much.
Then one day they were gone. All of them. From the fridge, the living room, the hallways. Steph imagined there were none left in her parent’s room either, but she wouldn’t dare go in anymore. She was somewhat grateful, she felt like she could disturb the fridge more easily now. But all traces of her mother were gone and it felt like there was no more color. Except for the pops of orange and yellow in the yard.
She picked the marigolds from the garden and placed them on the casket to be buried the next day.
At sixteen, Miss Tessburger sent Stephanie into the local flower shop for the bouquet that would be given to her father when he won the mayoral election. Huffing, she marched in and straight to the counter. Waiting for the florist or whoever was supposed to be there, a pop of yellow and orange in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Marigolds.
She walked out with two bouquets.
Later, she visited her mother’s grave for the first time since the funeral. She placed the marigolds on the ground by the headstone. For a long time, she just sat and stared, unsure if she should talk or pray or leave.
What would her mom do?
She pulled her phone out and set it a few steps away, starting the timer. She propped the flowers up against her and leaned on the headstone as the flash went off. Steph cried for her mom for the first time in a long while.
By eighteen, Steph had hundreds of pictures in an album labeled ‘for mom’ on her phone. Most of them were times she saw marigolds while out and about. Some were of her attempting to pick up gardening. Others were just moments she had been thinking of her mom.
So when the Lords in Black asked what she cherished most, for a second she didn’t think she was lying to first offer up her phone. She wasn’t like many other teenagers, obsessed with the power of a device that can fit in a pocket holds. Okay maybe. But hers also held a sort of journal for her mother.
It held so many memories and marigolds.