Chapter Thirty Six

Madeline’s POV

“Are the rolls ready?”

“Uh, there’s only a few more minutes left, I think…”

“Ah okay, wait- what’s that smell… Madeline did you burn them?!”

My mother races around the kitchen, cooking the components of a meal all at once. She paces back and forth, stirring that, heating this, cutting that, baking this. It’s a rush of organized and contained chaos.

“Never mind, they’re okay. Good, get the steak out of the oven then, will you?”

I feel so out of place yet so included all at the same time. The bowls and utensils are the instruments, it’s all one incredible orchestra and she’s the maestro.

It’s been forever since I’ve had familial contact. Sure, I feel similar emotions in my flashbacks with Julian, but it feels different. Fossilized. Far. It’s still there, just untouchable, unaltered.

But this is the moment. And I’m reveling in it. Resting in it.

“Madeline?”

“On it.”

Or- Roasting it.

“Uh… where’s the oven again?”