[ w/n: this chapter, though may seem like a filler, is important. Laura's past was undefined and plays a very significant part to come. she's reliving it for a reason . . . ]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
LAURA
This was a fantasy. I was sure of it.
The long table that resembled the dining table back in my hometown's Sharipov Manor was brimming with delight. There was a godly glow to the setting, as if the sun was right overhead, bathing us in the warmth.
I remembered this day as clear as crystal. Because it was the only memory I had of my grandparents. This was the day my mother left the manor to wander off on her own, to an unknown city and bring me up. This was the day she cut off all her ties with her past.
The magnanimous spread of food and ancient delicacies was starting to fill the chittering atmosphere with a wonderful smell, so my guess was some important event. The distinct feature of this room was the woodwork, given the warm scent - every ridge and cliff was Burmese teak, something my grandparents had treasured ever since they moved into the hour fifty years ago. Classical sculptures and paintings lined the walls in precise lines, for if the picture shifted an inch, it would be ominous.
Around the table was the only family I could remember. My grandparents, whose names I couldn't remember because I'd never met him before but seen their pictures. They were the oddest couple, much like my parents, my grandfather, Deda, too reserved and strict and my grandmother, Baba, looking anything but. At one edge of the table was Catherine Sharipov, in all her beauty and grace, smiling as she handed a plate to one of the help. What stressed me was that I didn't take any of her hallmarks. I wasn't blonde, small and soft like her. I wasn't brash with my decisions and I was definitely not cool-headed.
Everything was picture perfect. Except, it never was.
Catherine snapped her blue gaze to mine, beckoning me over with her chin. She had a luminous smile as she held her arms wide open for an incoming hug.
'Come here, Laurie.'
Before I could take a step forward instinctively, a little girl ran past me with her bronze ringlets bouncing with the motion. She was giggling as she sped into her arms, almost knocking Catherine over with the force of her embrace. She laughed, lifting the four-year-old in the air and hitching her up on her hip.
'Can you tell Baba the story you told me earlier?' she urged the little Laureline to say, but she was too busy twisting a strand of Catherine's yellow hair between her fingers, not paying attention. 'Say it to Deda and Baba, my love?'
