Conditional Love

Chapter 32

My chest aches thinking about him and I push the emotions away. He isn't here. Not anymore. And he's happy with that woman. She's sweet. Just not when it comes to me. I shake my head, growing frustrated with myself. I need to get over myself. I can't keep going around like this. I know that. I'll drown. I'm always just barely afloat, barely existing, and if I allow some of the emotions I push away resurface, I wasn't going to make it.

"Everything is alright. You're alright," I whisper to myself, staring down at my fingers. I glance up. Kota is now at the other end, waiting for the drinks to be made. He's right. The door is only a few feet away. I can just slip away. Ignore them all. Push them away. Move on. I'm good at moving forward. I'm not so sure about the moving on part though.

The seconds tick away, eating at my window of opportunity to leave. I tell myself to get up. Walk out. Leave. My legs don't listen. My body doesn't want to move even when I scream at it to do so. It's like my body knows something I don't.

Kota reaches over and grabs two cups before turning around to face the table. His head is slightly turned so he doesn't see me right away. It's as if he's bracing himself to see me gone. He expects me to be gone. I expect myself to be gone too. But my body is a traitor. I'm still here.

Slowly, his head turns and his eyes widen when they meet mine. I gave him a shaking smile and he returns it with small nod before walking over. He places a cup in front of me before taking the chair across from me.

"I guess you're staying," he says with a small relieved smile.

"This friend thing...how does it work?" I ask.

His smile turns sad as he considers my answers. "We talk. We open ourselves up, share secrets. We mess around, tease each other." He leans closer. "We fight."

"Fight?" I ask.

He nods. "For us, we fight because we're scared for the other person. We don't want to see them hurt, we don't want them to get in trouble. We protect each other. That can lead to fights when we don't necessarily agree with the other person's opinion."

I shake my head. "That doesn't make sense." I've witnessed enough fights between my stepmother and father growing up. There was nothing good about it. And even my fights with my stepmother, or even sister. Nothing good ever came from them.

"Doesn't it? If you think about it, it should." He spins his cup in his hands. "Let's use North as an example." I snort and he chuckles, getting exactly what I was thinking. North only knew how to fight.

"Okay, wow me," I say, leaning back and taking a sip of the hot chocolate. It was rich with a hint of spice to it. I raise an eyebrow as I stare at my drink, impressed. "This is good," I mumble.

"I agree. Now, arguing, and to specific, North and arguing." Kota thought about it for a few seconds before talking. "North's way of communication is to argue. He's loud to be heard and because he's protective."

"Doesn't give him the right to yell."

Kota holds up his hand. "That may be so, but each person is different. In this case, it makes North aggressive. We've all been friends for a very long time, but North didn't join us until we were eleven."

I opened my mouth to ask about that, but Kota shakes his head. "That's his story. Please, that will be something you'd have to ask him about. What I'm trying to say is that when he joined us, he wouldn't speak to any of us. Not even Luke. Luke went crazy, doing everything he could to get North talking. He even learned sign language. He eventually got North talking and frankly, he hasn't stopped since."

I smile at that. I bet they regretted getting North to talk.

"And I'm glad he does," Kota says. "Arguing facilitates talking and awareness to another's perspective. North has some issues and that has translated to him yelling and arguing."