Nothing Without You

VI: Drowning in White Snow

Then | Christian

The new girl wasn't the way I imagined her to be. I think it's because of her hair. When Eomma told me she moved in with Ms. Kaan, I thought she'd have brown hair like her aunt but she didn't.

It was gold, long and lucious. It shone underneath the white lights, but her eyes were dimmer than my room at night. When Dad tried to talk to her about the things she liked to do, she didn't say much at all.

"What's your favourite colour?" I asked her when I noticed her separating the chicken from her rice on her tiny plate. Which was incredibly weird because chicken and rice together was the best food on the planet, and Eomma made the bestest food. There had to be something incredibly wrong if she wasn't eating my amazing mother's food.

Everyone ate the rice Eomma made.

The conversation at the table stopped and the adults listened in, even if they acted like they weren't paying attention. Dad shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth and acted like he was into the kimchi when he doesn't even eat kimchi. Eomma started wiping her side of the table and Ms. Kaan, well she continued eating and acted like she wasn't listening. Did she even care about her niece? If it was my aunt, she'd be more attentive to me.

I shrugged the thoughts out. Everyone's family is different. I think.

When the girl didn't reply, Eomma cleared her throat and began a conversation about a Korean Drama she started watching.

Poor girl, rich man, evil mother, cheating husband, blah, blah, blah. It was always the same story.

I zoned Eomma out. For some reason, I found myself looking back at the girl. Whag could have happened to make her seem so sad? It could be my house. Possibly. She did seem like she belonged under the sun and not in a dark-lit room.

After we finished dinner, Ms. Kaan said she had business to attend to so we didn't stop them from leaving. Eomma crouched down on the ground and gave the girl a hug. I didn't have the best eyesight, especially with my chunky blue glasses, but I noticed tears swimming in the girl's eyes from the wordless hug.

I knew exactly how that felt. Once these kids at school took my favourite book, ripped it apart, and flushed the pages down the toilet. When I got home that day, Eomma was in the kitchen. One look at me and she knew exactly what wrong without asking. Her hugs always felt like love.

I think that's what the girl needed.

"I'm right next door if you ever need anything," Eomma told her in a soft tone.

She nodded but didn't look up at her.

My dad told my mother to go rest on the couch while he walked them out. I followed him, not out of courteousness, but out of curiosity.

She was quiet and sweet, but lonely.

I got inspiration from my mother. I would give her my friendship and make sure she'd never ever be lonely again. It's my life's mission from now on to do exactly that. Plus, I would gladly share my favourite books with her. That's only if she promises to give something in return.

I'm a fair man (I get it from my dad).

Ms. Kaan and Dad walked out the door first, leaving me and the girl alone.