For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, and for these two, their lives have been planned down to a science.
For Wylan Olson, being yourself can be very stressful. Since she was young, her emotions have always been backwards. The e...
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I had been avoiding the conversation for some time, but I could only let it pass for so long. I was nearing graduation at a scary speed, and my focus was not on anything pertaining to school.
I sat on the couch, thinking about how I had a week until graduation. Prom had passed in the blink of an eye, and the years of college education seemed to be staring me down.
"It's the same boy, right?" I nodded reluctantly. "So what's the problem?" I shook my head. He placed the remote on the coffee table and smiled.
"There isn't a problem. We're friends, but I keep wondering if—" He stared at me expectantly.
"What happened?" my father asked, and before I could seriously think I responded.
"I keep trying to figure out why or how a person could let someone they care about be hurt and embarrassed. I want to forget, but I can't. The incident is nagging me, and I feel like I was trivial for ignoring him for three months, but what am I supposed to do or say? It hurt feeling as if I was less important to him than his friends were, and you know I overthink things dad. I always do."
He furrowed his brow. "They wouldn't. I know you overthink things at times Wylan, but if it is seriously bothering you this much then you need to address it head on. Are you sure that it just comes from the hurt you felt with not feeling like you were valued as much as his other friends?" my father replied as he shifted in his recliner.
"I thought so, and I can't find myself believing that he'd just up and change—" I was immediately stopped. My dad seemed to meditate on what he wanted to say.
"You're almost seventeen now, and you have an abundance of sense. Did you ever think that the time you two spent apart made him wiser? I had the same dilemma with your mother when I was that age." I raised an eyebrow.
"I was young, and stupid, though I wasn't stupid enough to let someone put their hands on her, and I need the names of those idiots so I can kill them. Allowing someone to insult the person you care about can be the equivalent can't it?" I nodded.
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"Well, I was too oblivious to realize that, but when it became evident I stepped up to correct things. Sometimes people need to see cause and effect before they can decide to straighten up. The Kwame you're dealing with now may be completely different in comparison to the one who allowed a boy to hurt you. If it was me, I'd be damned to allow someone to even think about hitting your mother."
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. "How do you know when someone loves you?"
He shrugged. "How do you know I love you? I tell you, fair enough, but I also show you. When you need me, I drop everything. Even if you don't know you need me, I'm there aren't I? No matter what you do or don't do, I'm there, still loving you because that's what love is. A willingness to forgive no matter what they did, and believing that because they love you back, they'll do everything in their power to change it. Love isn't being stupid though. Love also knows when to let them go, sometimes that's what it takes to make them change." He squinted at me, "Friends are supposed to love each other as well. You're supposed to love those quirks about one another that nobody else can quite appreciate," but maybe a boyfriend could, "And you're supposed to trust each other, and protect each other. Give yourself some time to get over what happened before trying to search for something deeper, because in truth it will hurt a lot more to find nothing there while you're emotionally invested than if you were sure that friendship was the only thing you needed." I laughed.
