Dead Letter Kao

I was eager to meet Dead Letter Kao again. What an opportunity I selfishly thought. Help, at last with these translations.
The next day was bright and sunny. I sat in my usual spot in the coffee house and Kao came and sat next to me. I was offered an apple. I thanked him and cut it in half, giving him half and crunching on my half. He looked at me oddly and quietly ate his half.
“Politeness in one so young. That is such a treasure.” I laughed and told him my mother was very strict, insisting I learn proper manners. He laughed and said, “Good mother.”
I had many little exchanges like this during the next two months. He sometimes brought an apple, sometimes an orange. I would be told very little about him, but somehow I told him a lot about me. I was always listened to politely and calmly. He would nod his head and say, “Good mother”, or “Good father”, and get up and leave.
I never knew him to say much, but I often thought he has a lot to say.
One particular day I was struggling with my translation. I was frustrated and showed it. I was offered an orange and visciously tore it apart. He looked at me and said, “Trouble?”
I said yes, very much so. I just don’t understand what I’m doing. The words don’t make any sense. I need to have this done by tonight or I’ll be in trouble. I’ve been working on this piece for a long time and it just doesn’t make sense.
He politely said nothing. I fumed, wasn’t he going to help me. I wondered what I’d have to do to ask him for help. Then I decided, I’ll just ask for his help, all he can say is no. I did just that, I said, “Kao, can you help me.”
He gave me a quick grin and reached over to read what I had written.
This was the start of a life long friendship.