10-05-2019, 03:50 AM
She watched, that little "bit" of alarm seeming to grow, as Nika went into the basket like a magician, reaching in to his hat to pull out the next magical item. A vague memory of Laila seemed to surface, one she hadn't remembered- or maybe it had it been seared over by things there at the end. Laila, being funny and sweet. Finding a single flower sitting at the table she usually sat at in the school library. Dinner under the stars. The first tentative touching of hands. All the little things that had made her feel special. Wanted.
She wanted to shove it away. Tried. It was like pushing up against a heavy box. It moved, but it resisted. A sharp pain of anguish sounded in her heart. Not every girl was Laila. She knew this. Was she broken? Too afraid to trust ever again?
She tried not to show her fear because- Oh dear God, please it can't be over for me, can it? Please?- she did want to try. Heart thundering in her chest, she still wanted to try.
Almost as if in answer, Nika reached in and pulled put two kid's juice boxes, complete with cartoon characters on the outside. Liv burst out laughing, as much from tension as from actual joy. She reached out and took it, suddenly transported back to life as a child, a day at the park or on the train and Mamma giving her a snack. A time of security and carefree childhood bliss.
There were tears at the corner of her eyes as she laughed, and she tried to wipe them away with some embarrassment. "Sorry, Nika," she said through the giggling that still took her. "No. No, I absolutely love it. I don't drink either. No. This is just perfect. Thank you for this." Her smile was warm and she meant it.
She was still scared. The fear was real. But she would try.
Amid small talk, they dug in. She loved the salad, the cheese so subtle you needed to savor it slowly so that it matched the dominating flavors of the balsamic vinegar and tomato. The dates were....interesting. She couldn't decide if she liked them or not. They were so soft and mushy and almost cloyingly sweet. But the salty bacon seemed to somehow...do something anyway. Yeah, she wasnt sure.
But the lasagna... "I can't believe these are leftovers," was all she could say as she tried to be a proper lady and not just stuff her face. It was perfect.
The sounds of slurping came from her juice box straw and she was given another one before she could ask.
She paused, half of her lasagna still on her plate calling to her. She looked at Nika, smile on her face. "You know, you might think about opening an Italian restaurant. Moscow has many. But I bet you'd win the International Lasagna Awards or something. Add that trophy to your many others." She laughed playfully and spoke without thinking. "I'd be happy to do the art for your menu or sign or something. Sketch you slaving away for your customers."
She caught herself. She hadn't thought about doing that kind of thing in a while. She wasnt sure she could even draw, anymore. The fear lanced through her, but she held her ground, a touch of hope giving her strength.
That and some juice from her childishly sweet juice box.
She wanted to shove it away. Tried. It was like pushing up against a heavy box. It moved, but it resisted. A sharp pain of anguish sounded in her heart. Not every girl was Laila. She knew this. Was she broken? Too afraid to trust ever again?
She tried not to show her fear because- Oh dear God, please it can't be over for me, can it? Please?- she did want to try. Heart thundering in her chest, she still wanted to try.
Almost as if in answer, Nika reached in and pulled put two kid's juice boxes, complete with cartoon characters on the outside. Liv burst out laughing, as much from tension as from actual joy. She reached out and took it, suddenly transported back to life as a child, a day at the park or on the train and Mamma giving her a snack. A time of security and carefree childhood bliss.
There were tears at the corner of her eyes as she laughed, and she tried to wipe them away with some embarrassment. "Sorry, Nika," she said through the giggling that still took her. "No. No, I absolutely love it. I don't drink either. No. This is just perfect. Thank you for this." Her smile was warm and she meant it.
She was still scared. The fear was real. But she would try.
Amid small talk, they dug in. She loved the salad, the cheese so subtle you needed to savor it slowly so that it matched the dominating flavors of the balsamic vinegar and tomato. The dates were....interesting. She couldn't decide if she liked them or not. They were so soft and mushy and almost cloyingly sweet. But the salty bacon seemed to somehow...do something anyway. Yeah, she wasnt sure.
But the lasagna... "I can't believe these are leftovers," was all she could say as she tried to be a proper lady and not just stuff her face. It was perfect.
The sounds of slurping came from her juice box straw and she was given another one before she could ask.
She paused, half of her lasagna still on her plate calling to her. She looked at Nika, smile on her face. "You know, you might think about opening an Italian restaurant. Moscow has many. But I bet you'd win the International Lasagna Awards or something. Add that trophy to your many others." She laughed playfully and spoke without thinking. "I'd be happy to do the art for your menu or sign or something. Sketch you slaving away for your customers."
She caught herself. She hadn't thought about doing that kind of thing in a while. She wasnt sure she could even draw, anymore. The fear lanced through her, but she held her ground, a touch of hope giving her strength.
That and some juice from her childishly sweet juice box.