such a simple thing

Oliver found his mail at the bottom of the magazine basket in the livingroom.

"What the devil?" He mentioned as he dug through it. Of course, his great aunt didn't hear him. She was making a brew. Her special kind. The one she liquored with rum. She said it helped with her aches at night.

Oliver pulled out the card, a card that Eric had sent him. It was a sympathy card. Oliver supposed he envied him so much. Didn't know why. Really. Just, that he did. And he felt kind of sad that he'd had this fixed image of Eric being so pious and stuck up. Actually, Eric had put some nice words in the card to show he'd cared.

Oliver nursed his upper lip. Eric sent him his phone number. Told him he'd love to hear from him. Oliver got out his mobile just as his great aunt was bringing him his tea. He set down the tea. Didn't need to be sauced when he made the call. But he took a sip, he felt a bit shattered or was that just lost. He didn't know what to say when he heard Eric voice.

"Its me." Maybe the accent would give him away. Maybe. "Oliver."

"Oliver?" Now Eric sounded stumped.

"Are you there?" He asked after a long silence. "How's the weather?"

"Cold. A little snow." His answer was so simple.

"Oh. Just damp here. Could be colder." He sighed. "Cold enough." He looked around wondering what else could he ask. "How's, how's the little one?"

"Which one?" Eric asked.

Oliver winced hard. Jesus, he couldn't remember anyone's name. He listened then to Eric go on and on about his son and daughter. Both just babies. He couldn't imagine what it would be like with one, but two, Oliver couldn't think it, being easy. Eric was giving Ella a bottle right now.

"How are you?" Eric asked.

"Fine." Simple as that.

"Just fine?" Eric sounded as if their must be more, but Oliver didn't really want to bore him with Kayla. He knew she talked up so much how she wanted to see him, but what if she really didn't? What if it were better to leave this alone and enjoy it, for what it was. Passing the time. Oliver's head was getting stuffy. He could hardly take much more of how busy Eric was. How Eric's life was changing so much, and Oliver's wasn't. It really wasn't. He got off his cell, soon enough, and breathed in the tea. When would he ever have the balls, to get up, and do what he wanted?