I woke up once again to the smell of burning bacon and the fire alarm ringing in my ears. Shit! Anna's trying to cook again. Anna was nine and known for being the most persistent and determined child in the world. You see, when she was five, she announced that when she was older she would be the best chef in the world. And you may be thinking 'Aww, she knows her dreams". But ohh no, its not cute when you've walked in to see most of the cooker on fire, the floor covered in raw chicken and cooking oil, and a nine year old running around with a vegetable knife. That's disturbing.
I leapt out of bed, staggered to my door, and launched myself down the hallway to the main room. Barreling through the door, I came to see Anna with egg shells in her frizzy blonde hair, my apron dwarfing her petite body, and a spatula in hand feverishly beating the frying pan to try and put the flame out. Brilliant. I marched over, grabbed hold of the handle on the pan and dumped it into the running water of the sink, please to hear the distinct sizzle of the pan cooling. I turned around to face my daring little daughter, watching an impish smile grow on her face, before she sneezed, catapulting a small white shell out of her nose. I raised my eyebrow at her, puffing my own blonde hair out of my eyes.
"Why is it you always wait for me to be asleep before you try burning the house down?" I asked absentmindedly, whilst turning to survey the bomb city that used to be my kitchen. The once white flowery walls had been home to many cooking disasters created by Anna, and had now turned a peculiar shade of brown over the years, illuminated by the morning glow coming through the window. The island had turned into an equipment table for Anna to easily find her weapon of choice whilst torturing innocent ingredients. The floor was covered in the rest of the egg shells and bacon wrappers. Fortunately the rest of the kitchen remained unharmed. I looked back once again to Anna who was now untying the apron and giggling silently at me. I marched over to her, bent down and tickled her senseless, hearing her delighted giggles and shrieks echoing the the open plan living area, whilst she squirmed in my arms.
"You're a little monster you know!" I growled at her. "Go wash the mess out of your hair, and if you're lucky you may have real food waiting for you when you come back." She grinned and nodded and skipped out of the kitchen. What she did was wrong, but her heart was in the right place. I went to clean up the cooker and pondered over my life.
My name is Rosalie Hale, or to my family 'Rose'. I am 29, I live in my two bedroom apartment in Seattle, with my daughter Anna. We live comfortably with Anna going to school on a regular basis and my decent paying teaching job in her school. She was the present I received after a bar crawl I attempted on my last night in college. Her father Royce, my ex, doesn't want to know her, despite all the attempts I've made at trying to get him to just talk to her. It's not like I'm asking for his money, I just want her to know her father. But it doesn't matter, we don't need him, or anyone else for that matter.
Finishing the cleaning, I started on the pancakes, expertly flipping them in the pan. It had always been my dream to open up a cafe, but decided to go to college as I didn't have the resources -or the guts- to do so. Then came Anna and any chance of starting the cafe up went out the window. I didn't mind working at the school, I loved kids, but they could be such a pain in the ass sometimes. I snapped back to reality when I saw the clock. Dammit! I sighed.
"We're going to be late for school!" I warned Anna down the hall. I heard some stumbling and a squeak as my response. Not long after she ran back in fumbling with her clothes, flicking her now clean hair out of the way. She grabbed one of the pancakes I had just set on the table an ran back into her room. I scarfed down my own breakfast and ran to the shower to quickly scrub myself clean. I picked out a plain blue dress and matching shoes and shimmied into my clothes - It wasn't like I was trying to impress anyone anyway.
Anna and I met by the door. "Got everything?" she nodded, "Okay, lets go." I replied. We clambered into my little beetle and set off.
"So what made you decide to try cooking again? I thought you had given up on the idea...?" I questioned, with my fingers mentally crossed.
"No never!" She shook her head vehemently, "I just was just thinking that you do it all yourself, along with the washing, the cleaning, the ironing, the tidy-"
"Okay! I get the point!" I grinned.
She stuck her tongue out at me, and grinned back.
"You know, you could try and date, I mean, I wouldn't mind..." She trailed off, probably noticing the look on my face.
"Where did that come from?!" I was shocked, never in my life did I think my nine year old daughter would come up with something like that.
"It's just that all my friends have two parents, and I don't want you to be lonely!" She hurriedly explained.
"Sweetie, I'm happy being single, I'm not lonely." I said carefully "What would make you think I was?"
"Nothing, nothing...We're here!" She clearly did not want to talk about it anymore.
I parked in the lot and kissed Anna goodbye, before she skipped over to her friends. Taking a few deep breaths I made my way to the entrance of the school to sign in. Did Anna want a father figure in her life? Was that why she was encouraging me to date? On my way in I was greeted by Alice, our Kindergarten teacher, and one of my closest friends.
"Hey Rose" she smiled behind her glasses.
"Hey Alice, have a good summer?" I replied.
"It was great thanks, Jazz and I went to Paris for a week" she grinned. Lucky her, I thought. Jasper was her husband, completely gorgeous and totally adored Alice. It was heartwarming to see them together as they balanced each other out, Alice with her bubbly, energetic attitude, and Jasper's calm, easy going personality.I was immensely jealous of their relationship, but was glad to be single. Looking after Anna was hard enough without the added drama of a boyfriend.
"That's sounds lovely," I said as Angela, my class room assistant waved frantically to me.
"Excuse me Alice."
I hurried over to Ange, "What is it?" I questioned, whilst looking for the source of the problem.
"Tommy Anderson has eaten the crayons and thrown up over Lily Walton." She grimaced.
I sighed. Oh yes, I love my job.