The earlier post about Oscar’s family, as many have come to realize, was misleading. While all of it is true, it doesn’t indicate the fact that around a year before Oscar met Sam and Dean in their motel room, his mother disappeared. She taught him everything he knows, but of course the lessons were incomplete because he was only seven at the time. Oscar is a lot tougher than he thinks he is, but he will always be a mama’s boy and he will always miss her.
She tucked him into bed before she left. I’ll be back soon, she whispered to him. It was always best to go looking for supplies late at night, while the humans were sleeping. She kissed his forehead and her hair fell over his face, making him scrunch up his nose from the tickle.
And then, with her bag and her safety pin hook, she was gone.
Oscar thought he might surprise her. He crept out of his bed and into the small main room of their house. He would wait up for his mama to get home, so he could help her put away what she found and give her another big hug before going to sleep.
He clambered up onto one of the wooden spools at their table, seating himself comfortably on it. His legs kicked back and forth a little, since they didn’t reach the floor, and he propped his arms on the table to wait.
Oscar ended up falling asleep with his arms at the table, slumped over in exhaustion.
When he woke, he jolted a little to find himself still sitting up. Brown eyes blinked with confusion as he peered around. There was light peeking in from the one crack up in the wall, telling him that it was morning already.
Did mama go straight to bed and not see me? he wondered. Oscar hopped down from his spool and padded softly over to the curtained doorway to his mom’s room. Her bed was a little bigger than his, and the blankets were messy. But she wasn’t in it.
“Mom?” Oscar called curiously, looking around their small home. Of course, no answer came. Oscar shuffled around just in case, looking behind every curtain and under every blanket in both beds. He checked the pantry, but it was just as sparse as it had been before she left. There was only a few days’ worth of food left.
Confused, Oscar sat down on the ring box that they used as a chair. He picked up a scrap of cloth his mother had been using to teach him how to dethread human fabric so it could be used for them. He’d just have to do his chores while he waited for his mother to come home. This wasn’t the first time she’d taken a little extra time finding food for them.
Five days and five meals later, the pantry was empty.
On the seventh night, Oscar cried himself to sleep, exhausted by the hunger that burned him up on the inside.
On her eighth night away, Oscar picked up his blankets and moved them to the top of the pile on her bed, and then crawled underneath the whole lot. He could still smell her on the nest of foam and fabric that was her bed. He didn’t cry as much before drifting off to sleep.
On the ninth day, he got to eat, because the friendly mouse visited and brought him some stale bread. She had always been so nice. She let Oscar put his arms around her neck and bury his face in her fur, grateful for the present she brought him.
But his mom still didn’t come home.
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