As I drank my tall glass of milk, I wondered. Perhaps I will be able to overcome my fear of the place that I was at. I wasn't completely terrified of it, just a little unsure of it. It seemed somewhat dangerous in a sort of way, yet peaceful. And as I have thought many times, it was nothing below charming.
"So, when was the last time you spoke to your mother? If it's not too personal, that is."
What was I supposed to say to that? How was I to respond? I felt my heart drop into my stomach. If he wanted to know, I guess I would have to tell him. I tried, but for some reason the words wouldn't come out. My eyes swelled with tears, and as soon as I closed them, they fell.
"Oh, my. You mustn't cry, my dear. I didn't mean to..."
"It's not you," I managed to get out, "it really isn't."
I couldn't even look at him. I was too upset to now that he had brought up my mother. I couldn't bear to talk about her, and I never did. For 9 whole years, I held back anything that had to do with either of my parents.
"Are you going to be alright?" I hadn't heard so much sympathy and concern in anyone's voice since my parents. The thought of his sympathy made me smile in the midst of all my depression. Even though he had no clue what I was crying about, he was still concerned.
"I hope so, sir."
"You can call me Mr. Wonka, I don't really mind."
"Thank you, Mr. Wonka."
"Don't mention it." The sympathy was still there. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up. I apologize."
Even at his apology, my tears wouldn't stop. He gave me a rather troubled look. "Whatever it is, it will be OK. Trust me."
He stood up, and told me that he would bring me someplace where I could rest.
He took me into his room, and sat down on the bed. He still looked as sad as I felt. My tears had stopped, but I was still fixed upon my depressive state. "Sir, may I ask what is wrong?"
"Well, it's just that you are so sad, and I guess that I have a tendency to take on the feelings of other people."
"If you really want to know about my mother, sir," I said quietly, "I suppose I could tell you."
He motioned for me to sit down, and I did as he asked. I could sense how sad he was, and it made me feel even worse. "Excuse me, Mr. Wonka, but could you try to cheer up a bit? The thought of sad people makes me sad as well." I hated sad people, they made me feel lost.
"Oh, yes! Terribly sorry about that."
"This is sort of a long story, Mr. Wonka, I hope you don't mind. I will have to give you some background on my parents as well."
"No, I don't mind. I have all night."
"Alright then, I will begin."