The boy & the brownies.

Two.

He came back the next day. Oliver. He climbed through my window again. But this time, I was sleeping. His loud footsteps woke me up. And I asked him why he was here, and he said cause I looked lonely. I was. He sat in the living room while I cooked up a batch of brownies. Again, he ate all of them in a few minutes. He smiled the whole time.
It's funny, my mother cared about everyone. Yet no one cared about her, besides me and Elijah. She was that weird mother. She was the one that was always happy. That could crack a joke at any time. That wanted to see other people happy. Just like Oliver. I can see it. He wants to see people smile. And maybe he'll make other people smile. But I won't be one of those people. I can't be one of those people.
The first time he came to my house was on Monday. And then he came again on Tuesday and here I am. Wednesday morning, making him coffee and brownies. I slide the mug over to him. It was the mug my father used to use. I open the cupboard to grab myself a mug. And for a moment I stare at my mothers mug. She used it all the time. For coffee, for juice, for water. Everything. And I just let the wave of sadness hit me. Tears threatening to spill. And I tell myself to not cry. But one traitor tear falls. Sliding down my red cheeks. And another one fell. And another. And another. And that was when Oliver noticed I was crying. But he didn't rush up to me and hold me in his arms, and I'm glad he didn't.
"Chai.." I put my hands on the counter and hang my head. Tears falling. I miss her. I miss her. I miss her.
"Chai, come here." And I did. I walked over to him, my head still hanging, I seated myself on the bar stool, my hands hanging limply by my side.
"Chai, the lady I saw making brownies.. was she your mother?" I nod in response.
"Is she gone?" I nod again. I hear him sigh. And then I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see Oliver. My vision is blurry due to the tears.
"I know it won't help if I say I'm sorry. So I won't. Because I know it will just make you feel worse." He says. He was right. It always bothered when people said that. 'I'm sorry for your loss'. I just though it was pointless. And I always hated pointless things. To me, they shouldn't happen. And my mothers death was pointless, it shouldn't have happened, it was without reason. Tears stain my once clean shirt.
"You know, I can see it." He says. I finally look up at him.
"What?" My voice is cracked and strained.
"I can see that you're broken. That you're sad. I can see it in your eyes. Your one of those people who spends years building walls up, trying so hard to protect themselves from hurt and pain. And then all of sudden it comes at full force. A blow to to heart, leaving you nothing but misery and pain." This boy has somehow managed to explain my whole life in a few sentences.
"Yea, I am." I reply.
"How did it happen? If you don't mind me asking." I sniffle. My tears have stopped by now, but some have dried up on my cheek.
"Cancer." I state simply. It was a slow and painful death. And I was there to watch the whole thing, not being to help in any way possible.
"How long ago?"
"Six months." I say. Tears coming back. It's not fair.
"It wasn't fair. It wasn't a fair fight." I tell him. He nods.
"Life isn't fair, or nice. It's pretty freakin horrible a lot of the time." He's right.
"You know, my mom. She was always a fighter. Always. And she always believed in fairness, no cheating, it had to be fair. So all of her fights were fair. Except for her last one. The worst one. The hardest one. It wasn't." I tell him. He purses his lip into a thin line, as if he's thinking what to say next.
"I'm sorry." I say.
"For what?"
"For making you listen to me complain and whine about my mom." I say. He shrugs, another smile back on his face.
"Sometimes you just need to talk."
"Yea, sometimes you do."

For the next few days, the only thing I could think about was the boy. His face, his smile, his voice, his personality. I know why I didn't stop talking to him. Why I didn't just kick him out. Why I kept making him brownies. Because he reminded me of my mom.