I woke up at 9:53 the next morning. I didn't go to bed until midnight at least, which wasn't super late, but the jet lag seemed to be taking its time. Also, Rodrick didn't tell the shower was free until thirty minutes after he had used it. He was probably at Subway by now, I was woken up by a closing door sometime in the morning before falling back asleep, so that was probably him. I didn't have the audition until tomorrow, and I didn't have work until Monday, so I was completely free today.
I hadn't tap danced in a few months at least, and I found my mind struggling to remember the steps. However, I was still lying in bed, so the first thing I had to do was fully wake up. I got ready for the day, you know, changing my shirt, brushing my teeth, etc. I walked out of the bathroom, I simply noticed how strange it was to be alone in the house that was still relatively new to me.
I was alone in the house for nine hours, and surprisingly, not much happened. I tapped dance in my room, simply doing different combinations of shuffles, hops, jumps, ball changes, stomps, stamps, flaps, for a decent length of time. I would get super frustrated when I didn't get the sounds right, and repeat the combination.
After that, I realized that I was hungry so I made myself a bowl of cereal. I took the bowl out of the cupboard, then I remembered the audition so I couldn't have any milk. I scoffed when I saw that Rodrick left an empty, dirty bowl on the counter. I checked my phone at eleven to see I had a few text messages.
Mom: Are you still at Michelle's?
Me: Yeah, i'm going to be staying here a while we're a little busy at the moment
Mom: Ok, sweetie, love you!
Me: Love you to
Honestly, I was bored as heck for a while. I tried turning off the old TV, but there were no good movies on, and I found myself wandering around the house aimlessly. I made a peanut butter sandwich at noon. When I got super bored, it was back to the tap shoes I went. Then it was one, then two, then three, then four.
mt: Michelllllle: Hey I'm bored.
Me: no way same
I ended up texting with Michelle for a good chunk of time, but it was nothing notable. I also got a ton of notifications from the group chat with Olivia, Lisa, and Gwinda, but it wasn't anything I could add to.
Then, at seven twentyish, I heard a knock on the door. I took off my tap shoes, ran out of my room, and to the front door. When I opened the door I saw Rodrick, still in his Subway uniform.
"Hey, Abigail, just got back from practice." He said with a smile. "Ready to bake some cookies?"
I simply nodded and turned around to go back inside the house. I was proud of myself for not speaking a word all day, but it was a ritual I went through every day before a performance. Gwinda was cool though, a month before the Christmas Concert, she didn't say a word, didn't have a bite of dairy, sugar, or caffeine, carried a dry erase board everywhere, and even picked up a little British sign language.
Now I was in the kitchen, digging around the various cupboards and pantries, looking to see where I put the ingredients. I began pulling out everything, and the counter was getting a little cluttered, and then I saw Rodrick looking at me a little strangely.
"What, you're just not going to say anything to me?" He asked. He seemed slightly offended. I rolled my eyes, pulled out my phone, opened Google translate, typed a sentence into English, hit the speaker button, and:
"No, I am on vocal rest so that I don't injure my voice for the audition tomorrow." The monotonous female voice rang out of my phone speaker with a poor syllable structure. Rodrick snickered.
"Alright suit yourself." He said. We both washed our hands in the kitchen sink. Then he walked over right next to me and lifted a giant wooden spoon. I snatched it away from his hand, we didn't need it. I took out one of those glass containers that people measure liquids, but it was big enough to measure the flour, and add the baking soda into it. I had a recipe pulled out on my phone, so Rodrick and I kept glancing at it.
"What can I do?" He asked as I concentrated on the flour. It was back to Google translate I went.
"Measure the baking soda, add it into the flour so I can combine. Then preheat the oven to 375 degrees." The monotonous voice rang out. First I saw Rodrick turn on the oven, then I saw Rodrick open the lid to the baking soda and pour it into a measuring spoon. He was about to bring it over to the flour until I held my hand out and stopped him. "That's a tablespoon." The voice said. I had just finished measuring all the flour in the glass container, so now I had to make sure Rodrick was measuring correctly. I nodded when he returned with a smaller spoon filled with white powder.
"Why do you have to mix it?" He asked. I stopped mixing the flour and soda to go back to Google Translate.
"To make sure the cookies aren't flat." The voice said. Then, I finished mixing, the soda and flour were incorporated.
"What's next?" He asked. I pointed to the recipe that said to beat the softened butter at medium speed. "I don't have a hand mixture." He said, a little nervous. I pulled out a fork from a drawer. "Are you sure that's going to work? The recipe said to use a hand mixer." It made no difference.
"Coward." I mouthed. Rodrick laughed quietly. I unwrapped the unsalted butter from its wax paper into a small, glass, square, and proceeded to melt it for twenty seconds. For those twenty seconds we just simply looked at each other as we leaned on opposite sides of the granite countertop.
Then, we both heard the pinging of the microwave. Rodrick walked over to it before I could and opened it. There was a large metal baking bowl that I was ready to use, so Rodrick dumped all of the softened butter into it. I smiled, lifted my fork, and proceeded to mash into a sort of whipped consistency. After a mere, few minutes, Rodrick looked over my shoulder to see the butter.
"Who needs a hand mixer when we have Abigail, I'm impressed," Rodrick said as I heard sugar pour into a cup. I blushed slightly. Shit, I was blushing. "Just measured all of the sugar correctly." He walked over to the bowl with two measuring cups, one with white, and one with brown sugar. He poured it in, and I handed the fork over to him. He smiled and proceeded to mix the sugars and butter.
We both cracked in one egg and poured in the tiny amount of salt required. I doubled the amount of vanilla we were supposed to use at the utter shock of Rodrick. Then I mix the three things into the sugar-butter.
"What did you do that for?" He asked, gesturing to the vanilla.
"What are you, adverse to flavor? You always should add more vanilla." The Google Translate said. Rodrick shrugged and proceeded to add the flour in. He accidentally added in too much, because when he was mixing, he accidentally spilled like an eighth of a cup of it out of the bowl from the sheer force. I panicked and proceeded to push the flour back into the bowl in a panic. "Rodrick, you're so incompetent." The monotonous voice said.
He looked at me with fake hurt, then we were both smirking at each other, then Rodrick broke out into quiet giggling, but I had to stay silent because of my throat. Then, I lifted the chocolate chips. I began to pour them into the bowl, and Rodrick began to mix. Then I began to get a little nervous.
"Don't over mix." The monotonous voice rang. Rodrick stopped mixing when he realized the chocolate was fully incorporated.
"Man, I miss your voice, that thing is annoying." He said. The oven beeped, it was fully heated. Just in time.
"We really should let it stay in the fridge for a long time, but it shouldn't affect it too much." The voice rang out. Rodrick rolled his eyes. I took the wax paper, lined the baking sheets with it, and Rodrick and I proceeded to take the next few minutes to roll the dough into small balls on the sheets.
"Ten minutes," Rodrick said as I shoved the three large cookie sheets into the oven. I set a timer, and we both sighed a breath of relief. "Wow, I baked cookies." I shot a glare at him. "I mean we managed to bake cookies."
"Now we have to clean up." The monotonous voice said.
"Shoot," Rodrick exclaimed.