Warm tears (part one)

Rachel took me into the living room and walked over to a fireplace. Taking a match from the sill above, she cleanly started a fire. I moved over and crouched down beside her. It is warm. "Do you have a fireplace in your house?"

I shook my head. I knew that most of the children in my school lived in houses like this one, but my family lived in a single room that we rented. We didn't have our own living room, let alone a fireplace.

Above Rachel's fireplace there is a large picture of Jesus and, by where Rachel had returned the match sticks, there were bibles of varying in size along with prayer beads. There is also a large cross hanging by the side wall. It seems like a silly question to ask whether they were Christian. Aside from that, there were also a lot of pictures of Rachel's family. We didn't display pictures like that in our house. I got up and began looking closely at the pictures. There were quite a few of Rachel by herself, and some of her with a lady that I assumed is her mother. She looked very much like Rachel, except that her hair is much longer.

"That's my mum, she's pretty, right?"

I nodded. "Does Rachel have more family?"

"I did have an older brother…" Past tense? Rachel looked distant, and the flames from the fireplace danced in her eyes.

"Rachel?"

"I should go make the coffee." Rachel sped out of the room before I could make sense of what was going on. Is Rachel's brother dead? Judging by her reaction, they must have been close, but why weren't there any pictures of him? Rachel hasn't seemed to have overcome the loss. I wanted to help her, but I haven't felt a loss like that before. I wouldn't understand, but I still wanted to try.

I followed Rachel into the kitchen. She filled a kettle with tap water and placed it on a lit stove. I walked over to her. "Go back to the living room, I don't need any help."

"Rachel?"

"What?!" Her voice made me freeze. I should just go back. I didn't mean to make her angry. Please, don't yell at me, Rachel. I felt ready to cry, but I can't. I have to fix this. I don't give my brain a chance to think it over, I run toward Rachel and hug her. She doesn't put up any resistance and cries with her face against my chest.

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean to yell at you." Rachel sobbed. I could feel her warm tears through the shirt she had given me. My heart raced, though I know it shouldn't in this situation. This is for her, not for me.

"It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I say again, tightening my embrace.