A/N: Don't really have much to say. Um...ya.
Dedication goes to AislingCalloway for being the only one to comment that hasn't already recieved a dedication. (Not that I don't like you guys @Careless_Whisper and @WriteIdea. Heavens no)
Read and tell me what you think!!!!
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Firsts: Part Two
The first time I ever heard her laugh was in response to Jacen before Asim’s party, her first real outing, her introduction to the public. And, at that moment, I became nearly obsessive in trying to hear the sound again.
And then again.
And again.
And it got easier and easier the more I did it, the more I succeeded, until I didn’t even have to try anymore. It would just happen.
Roza’s laughs were soft at first, as if she were almost scared of allowing the reaction. And those little sounds were pretty, but nowhere near as satisfying as her real one.
~William Edwards
*September 21, 2013 6:28pm*
“Whatchya doin’?” I looked up from the large mixing bowl, at the sound of Will’s voice, startled so severely that the egg fumbled round my fingers and crashed to the floor. I looked down, back up, then grabbed a washrag from the sink to wipe up the small mess.
“You scared me,” I answered, gathering the rest of the goop neatly, before straightening up. He sat on the barstool on the other side of the island, facing me, a gentle smirk on his face.
“I noticed. Sorry about that,” he sounded vaguely sincere, “So? What are you doing?”
I looked down at the pile of things Claire’d had delivered. The eggs, the flour, the cinnamon, the sugar, and vanilla. As well as the brand new measuring cups, spoons, and bowls. She’d called this morning and had talked with me for a while while William was at some interview for a local magazine. She’d asked if I’d always drawn, like, before. I’d told her that no, I hadn’t. I’d had no reason to.
She’d wanted to know what I did, before. After a moment of silence, a moment of wrenching back to the way my father’s nose would crinkle in his praise, how my mother’s mouth would curve in pride, the way Sarah’s eyes would flutter shut in a near unwilling delight, after a few seconds, I’d responded.
“Roza?” I looked up again, realizing I hadn’t yet answered him, then turned back towards my things.
“I- I’m cooking,” or I was trying to at least. Starting was proving much more difficult than I’d at first envisioned. It was like I had some mental block. Not like I didn’t know what to do, more like, the last time I’d done this my life had been perfect and I didn’t know if I was ready to go back to that again. It was like trying to speak had been.
“Really?” he was surprised. I didn’t blame him, “Why?”
“Because I want to. And I haven’t in a long, long time.”
“Oh. Well. What are you making?”
I paused for a second, then firmed my shoulders, deciding. I
“Green spinach fettuccine with a fresh pesto sauce and raspberry sweet rolls topped with a tart lemon glaze for dessert. I think I’ll just do those two tonight; I’m just beginning again, right? Probably shouldn’t overload myself with the usual appetizers and entrees. A pasta and sweet roll is plenty,” and the moment I said this, the mental block lifted and my fingers itched. My body remembered this and I felt myself begin to bounce on the balls of my feet with the adrenaline.
