I Would Want To See You One Last Time.

Piece 9

            A few months have passed since the first cooking night at Maria's house. One night I finally met her mom, she seemed exhausted which is fair because she had just gotten off of work. She still tried her hardest to seem nice and not show too much of her exhaustion. That night I just got to introduce myself and she did the same, then headed upstairs. We made that up on the weekend that she wasn't working.

          Nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Ever since dropping Dally, there's been no intense drama, no one to worry about. Noah and I are trying to get back to being regular friends again and we're slowly getting there. We haven't been hanging out as much as we did with the three of us together. I miss it, I will admit, but I can't go back.

         Back at school again, during lunch, I'm still sitting with Maria every day. I brought food I cooked for the both of us, it was a meal I cooked again at my own house that was first introduced to me by Maria. That is something I have to do after our 'cooking night,' which is pretty much one night a week when we both go to Maria's house to cook different foods, all from scratch. Depending on the meal, we are barely done with cooking by 4 a.m. Those nights are my favorite, just the two of us and it's late at night. Every time we finish cooking and Maria walks me home, I begin to miss being there more each time. I wish I could stay just a little longer, wash my hands for just a few seconds more, to make another mess to help clean up with her just to stay a little longer. But, instead, we walk out the door and head to my house.

        The thing that is nice is the fact that I only live about a 15-minute walk away. Neither of us can drive so we have to walk. She walks me about halfway to my house where we'll hug each other bye. I only let her walk me halfway due to the fact that she won't let me walk by myself. Even on the cold nights, she'll still walk with me. I make her call me when she gets home though, just to know that she's alright.

        Yesterday I cooked baked mac 'n cheese for the two of us today.

       "Here you go," I say, handing her a portion of the meal. I watched her open the metal container with the warm food and take a bite.

        "It's really good, Winter. You're getting better." She says, muffled from food. Something twists and turns from under my ribs. I get that feeling in my throat again, something begging to come out. Begging and begging as it tickles its way up the inside of my throat, demanding to come out.

         "Thank you!" I say, trying to get that feeling to go away. I don't even know what I would want to say.

          There's nothing that needs to be said.

          "You're welcome." She says and continues eating. She didn't look away from the container.

           I sit there watching for a moment, hoping she'd at least glance my way. To show me that she was thinking about looking at me back even in the slightest. She doesn't and I look away, feeling the twisting dissipate into nothingness from under my chest.

          "I've been thinking," I say, "I don't want to make it to thirty." Facing forward and analyzing the grass.

         Maria turns her head to me, causing me to look at her. "What?" She says.

         "I don't want to make it to thirty!" I say proudly, "My dad has always believed that age is old and I don't want to get old. Also because old age diseases run strong in my family." Maria looks at me with a slightly shocked, slightly amused face.

        "Really? Well, when?" She asks.

        "I don't know." I stop and think, "I'd want to die when I'm 29 years old."