Wylan's Laws of Emotion

Chapter Twenty Eight- Wylan

Coping was the hardest part. Coping with the fact that a fourth of me loved him, a fourth of me wanted to hate him, and a half of me just wanted to give up. Why was I fighting?

Was it because I was incredibly stubborn? Definitely, as much as I wanted to stop the slow aching that crept through my body, I was willing to prolong it if he felt the same. I couldn't bring myself to ask him about Lorelei, I couldn't bring myself to ask him about Nate, but when I had needed him most, Alex was the one who volunteered to hold me. Alex was the one who wiped away my tears like any big brother would, but he still treated Kwame as if nothing had happened.

It couldn't last long. He would fall in love with a pretty girl who would dress nicely, who would do her hair, who would say "Yes" to his every wish. He would fall in love with Lorelei. Everyone loved her. She bragged about having his mother's approval, his friends all thought she was perfect, and I had—years of animosity under my belt.

It wasn't a matter of hating him. It was a matter of hating his security blanket. Hating that he wasn't consistent and wanting him to change. Wanting my friend back, wanting to laugh with him again, but that wasn't possible with his shield blocking the way. Kwame died when he was around his friends.

I guess I would've been a liability. I was the only possible chink in his armor, and he was smart enough to cover it. He was a smart boy, but still just a boy.

I stormed into the house and dropped Tyra's arm as soon as I got to the welcome mat. Slamming and locking the door were the first things I did before I tried to go to my room. "What was that? He's not my friend, and if he isn't mine then he shouldn't be yours!" I screamed as I tried reaching the stairs. Ty was not having any of it. "Go away Whitley!" I yelled as she grabbed onto my leg. Her tears leaked onto the carpeted floor, and I held back the urge to try walking her off.

"Please! Just try talking to him! He's your friend."

I stopped as she said this. Her fingers dug into my calf muscle, and I buckled down. "No, he's not," I gasped and tried prying her off.

"Yes he is! Yes he is! Yes he is!" The sound echoed through my head. I pressed my back against the wall, pushing with all my might. My muscles strained as I warred with the little girl.

"Whit-Ty, why would my talking to him change anything? I'm just not ready okay?"

She was quiet for a moment. "When will you be ready?" she asked.

Somewhere close to never. She looked in my eyes and seemed to understand. Ty cried into my pants leg as I rubbed her back. She had been saying sorry since we entered the house, and I shook my head telling her everything was fine.

It wasn't.

She finally let go and I went to my room. I was sitting in the corner where my bed and the wall connected, as she lazily crawled into my lap. I watched the rise and fall of her small back, and stared at a poster on the wall. "Wyla, what happened?"

I tensed up, as she stretched out. "Why are you asking so many questions?"

She squirmed. "I like talking to you." I rubbed my hand over her face and she giggled. As she wrapped her hands around my waist, I leaned my mouth against her forehead and kissed it.

"I like talking to you too." My bottom lip quivered as I held back my tears.

Ty got up to retrieve a scrapbook from my bookshelf. As we reminisced, Ty began to fall asleep, and after a while I had gotten to Poppet's post pregnancy pictures and she was barely balancing her head. She was bobbing it up and down, so I laid her down on my pillow as I continued to go through the old photos.

Soon enough I became lethargic, and dared to venture down into the den where my parents were dancing to "Emotions" by Mariah Carey. My mom was doing a weird shimmy and step routine as my dad tried to do the pop lock.

"Oh sweetheart, you ain't ready for this!" he declared as he tried performing a spin and smacked his leg against the glass table before him. He still did his finishing move though. My mom had fallen onto the couch smiling at his goofiness by the time he finished. "My knee hurts so badly right now, Way."

She snickered. "I bet it does Wesley, but sweetheart, is it as bad as those moves of yours?"

He touched the area over his heart, and stuck out his bottom lip. "No, it isn't that bad," he replied laughing as he closed the space between them, and placed a kiss on the bridge of her nose. I passed by quickly as they both attacked me with questions.

"What are you doing up this late?" they inquired simultaneously, and I checked my wristwatch. Apparently, nine at night was late now. Okay adults, you've won this one.

"I'm going to get some milk."

My dad frowned, knowing I was lying. "You want me to call the prosecution up?" he threatened. My mother shook her head while changing the song. "Okay, if you say so. Mind that I'm aware of your lactose intolerance," he notified me as he changed the song. "You ready for this Bobby Brown, Waylin? I think not!" he shouted while limping back into the den.

I laughed at this briefly before I resolved that my mind needed to be elsewhere. Like what I was going to do about the situation with Okari. I went to sit on the porch when I realized he was sleeping in our porch swing, or it appeared as if he was until he jumped up screaming.

A wasp had attempted tongue kissing him. I shook my head as I looked in his direction. When he finally got up, and tried to rearrange the pieces of the flowerpot he had just smashed he recognized there was another person observing him. "Wylan—" I held up a hand.

I wasn't quite ready to have a "heart to heart" with him yet, but he was eager to ice things over. My face hadn't stopped burning from where his friend slapped me. I walked through the flowerbed. I came up to my mother's white roses and observed them silently.

All the time I'd put into that friendship was just like the time she'd put into these flowers, only her time actually came into fruition. He was standing on the front porch with his arms crossed and a worried expression plastered across his face as if he was grief stricken.

I'm too young for this. I'm too young to waste my time on this. I sighed and walked back to the porch, taking a seat on the steps.

"I messed up," he acknowledged as I nodded my head, staring at the flowers again. That you did. "I want to make it up to you." What if there's nothing to make up, and things are broken to a point of disrepair. "I want you to look at me. I want you to speak to me. I want you to listen to me. I want you to see how sincere I'm being with you, Wylan." I can hear it better than I can see it. "I want to apologize," for what? Then his phone rang, and he picked it up. "Hello, who is this?" he asked. "Lorelei, I'm talking to someone right now." You're trying to talk to someone. "I mean, if you want to, but I'm busy right now. Can we talk about this later?" I began chewing on the inside of my cheek as this happened, and he took a seat on the porch swing. "Wylan, I apologize," For what? Are you apologizing because I was always second tier? "I should've done something when he hit you, and I'm sorry that I didn't." I shrugged. Everybody makes mistakes. "But can you explain one thing?" I looked in his direction, raising an eyebrow. It depends. "What did I do to you?" I stood, walked to the door, and turned to him, opening my mouth as if I would seriously answer.

I shrugged after taking a deep breath and walked in the room, hoping I wouldn't have to see him again. Hoping I wouldn't have to reconsider. Hoping I could convince myself that my feelings were right.

Even though I knew, I was wrong.