Bikes, Beaches and Afternoon Waffles

12 | Bittersweet Nostalgia

I mowed lawns during the summer and babysat Mrs. Fenderson's ugly little hellions so that I could make money to buy you that action figure from the store because our foster parent refused to purchase anything for us. I took you to the arcade every weekend even though I was bullied and beaten up by the neighborhood kids. I gave you the snacks that I would hide under my bed because I was always worried that our foster parent would forget to feed us again.

So don't tell me that I'm gonna have to do better than that! Because our entire childhood I was always trying my best to make sure you were okay..."

Despite the one instance where I have divulged my deepest emotions and nostalgia, Billy remains impassive. He doesn't seem affected by my ranting in the slightest. In fact, he seems nearly amused. It's almost as if he's somewhat glad that I'm finally getting a taste of my own medicine. Evidently, he isn't convinced by my declaration of heartache.

Thankfully, the hallway of the movie theater is empty. Therefore nobody can eavesdrop on our conversation - although we aren't being very discreet with our situation. The corridor is dark and gloomy, it only emphasizes the current atmosphere. I'm upset and I want to vomit.

Billy tilts his head to the side with wry amusement. He chuckles snidely and folds his arms over his chest, "You're being defensive."

"No, I'm not," I dispute with a sour expression, "I'm apologizing."

"That's not an apology... That's a temper tantrum."

"I'm allowing myself to be vulnerable, isn't that enough? I'm usually numb to the pain. I'm usually pessimistic about life and cynical about the people around me. I can't articulate my thoughts and emotions, but I'm trying!"

"You never allow yourself to be vulnerable - that's why you use sarcasm as a defense mechanism. That's why you push everyone away from you. That's why you never let anybody get close to you," he shakes his head with disbelief, "This isn't being vulnerable. It's being immune to any form of intimacy."

"How dare you just stand here and judge me," I snap bitterly, "You don't even understand!"

"I understand better than you think," he says with a mellow voice, the body language and mannerisms were responsive. There was a certain warmth I was receiving from him, "You have always been this way, Chloe... You're scared of loving people, but it's rather ironic, considering that mentality hurts the people that love you."

"What are you saying?"

"Misery loves company..."

"Are you seriously accusing me of being defensive because I want everyone else to be as miserable as I am?" I scoff at him, "That's low... Even for you."

"You know it's true," he debates with a calm demeanor, "However, you should also know that everyone has flaws. We all have bad habits and trauma. We all make mistakes because of them. What matters is accepting them and trying our best to move forward. You acknowledge the pain that you've caused others - including yourself. You recognize. You apologize... Then you grow," then for the first time since the argument, he almost smiles, "That's being vulnerable."

My breathing turns shallow and my knees become weak. My heart pounds against my ribcage - my chest heavy with tension. Billy carefully sits down on the ground and I join him, sliding down the wall in defeated fatigue. I furrow my eyebrows with confusion, "Why are you telling me this?"

Before he answers my question, Billy gazes at me with gentle and sincere compassion, "Because I love you, Dork..." he murmurs like the soft chirp of a dove. Then with an incredibly charming smirk, he punches me in the shoulder playfully like he used to when we were kids.