Broken but Still Repaired

Chapter 3 - Look Who's Home

I arrived home, soaked from head to toe. My hair and dress were completely drenched, and puddles were beginning to form at my feet. I quickly removed my shoes and directed myself towards the linen closet upstairs to find a towel to dry off with. I walked up to my brother Oliver's room, leaving a trail of water behind me. I knocked on his door and opened it to find him sitting on his bed with a textbook open in front of him, pencil in hand.

"Need any help?" I asked.

"Math is my best subject, I should be good," he replied without looking up at me.

"Alright let me know if you need anything. Where's mom?"

The mention of our mother caught his attention. His eyes met mine.

"She left as soon as I got home from school. I don't know where she went though."

"Oh, okay. Thanks for letting me know."

I turned to walk away, but Oliver spoke up.

"What happened to you anyway? Why are you so wet?"

"Just a little reading that ended with me getting caught in the rain," I replied with a smile.

"Sounds like you," he retorted before turning back to his textbook. I took the action as a signal for me to leave.

I continued to walk down the hall and grabbed a towel from the closet before heading to my room to change out of my wet clothes. I slung off my soaked dress before using the fluffy towel to dry off and ring out my hair. I then went to my dresser to get a set of pyjamas. There was no need to change into a fresh set of clothes as I knew that I wouldn't be going out for the rest of the night.

I went back downstairs to start on my chores. First and foremost, I needed to work on my homework for the night as well as make dinner for Oliver. I started with dinner since it was becoming late and Oliver must have been getting hungry. I pulled out a pot and filled it with water. I then proceeded to set it on the stove to boil. After putting the pasta into the pot I walked to the bottom of the stairs.

"Dinner's almost ready!" I shouted up to him.

I was met with no verbal response, only the sounds of footsteps making their way downstairs. Oliver wasn't a huge talker, so this was typical.

"Set the table please," I demanded politely.

This wasn't a very hard job. It only consisted of him putting two plates and a couple forks on the counter. We usually ate there when mom was gone because our kitchen table seemed too empty without her and our father.

When the pasta was ready, I took the pot from the stove and drained it of its water. I then walked to the fridge and took out a tupperware filled with leftover Bolognese sauce that had been placed there a few days before. I scooped out enough for the both of us, and brought the pot of pasta to the area of the counter that Oliver had set up.

We were finally ready to indulge in the meal I had made.

. . .

Dinner was mediocre. I mean, I'm no chef, but I do my best. Not having a reliable mother around anymore really took a toll on me and my brother. Although not legally, I was essentially his guardian.

"I'm sorry, Oliver. I know it's not amazing, but at least it's something," I said to my brother as we ate together in silence.

"Better than not eating at all," Oliver sighed. "And it's actually not that bad. Thanks Julie." he continued.

I smiled. It made me happy to know that my brother appreciated the little things I did for him. Ever since our father died 5 years ago and our mom took to alcohol, it's been my job to care for him. I, a 16 year-old, had been left to essentially mother my 10-year-old brother. I resented my mother for forcing me into this role of 'responsible parent.' That being said, another side of me felt bad for her. After all, she lost her husband and we lost our father. We were all heartbroken, but our mother took it the hardest. After his death, she went from being a gentle and caring mother to a drunk and angry woman.