“By spewing my pain and suffering out into the world?” he demanded. “You want to use me to make some silly college political statement?”
“No! That’s not what we’re doing at all!” I cried. “We want to stop these people from causing other people as much pain as they’ve caused you!”
“By making me the face of all of the crap that’s going to come out about this?” He was angry and hurt, but I couldn’t understand why.
“But Brian, this is a good idea! We want to stop the protes
ts!” I said as I felt myself becoming more emotional. Couldn’t he see that we wanted to help?
“You rich kids just don’t get it, do you?” His face grew red as he struggled to keep his voice down and not call attention to our heated argument. “You think that the world is full of like-minded people who have the same opinons you have and that if you just tell people to stop doing whatever you think is unfair, they will.”
“Now that’s unfair,” I lowered my voice to try and calm him down, but I felt myself getting mad at his judgmental attitude. “We’re not trying to tell anyone how to live their lives, we’re just trying to help you!”
“Have you ever thought about the fact that maybe I don’t want your help?” Brian asked as he leveled his gaze. “Did you ever ask me what I wanted? No, you did not. That’s because you rich college kids think you know everything that’s best for everyone. You’re so arrogant and privileged that you can’t look beyond your own lives and see that other people don’t live the way you do.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I angrily asked.
“It has to do with the fact that those people who are protesting have every right to protest, and that if it hurts my poor little feelings, then I need to get over it, okay?” he said in a tone that could only be described as petulant.
“What in the hell is going on with you?” I was astounded at the rapid shift in our conversation and could not understand why Brian was so angry at me for wanting to spare other service members the pain he’d experienced at his best friend’s funeral.
“Just leave it alone,” he said as he exited the booth and headed for the door. “I’ll be outside waiting when you’re done.”
I made no move to stop him as he stalked toward the door and shoved it open with a force that loudly rung the bells looped over the handle. I think if he could have slammed the door behind him, he would have done it.
*****
I finished my lunch, paid the bill, and then walked outside. Brian was leaning against the front of the restaurant looking at his phone and furiously typing out something on the screen. As soon as he saw me, he disconnected and shoved the phone in his pocket.
“Oh, please don’t let me interrupt,” I said in a dry tone. I was mad at him for refusing to even try to see my point of view and for accusing me of being a spoiled rich girl simply because he didn’t agree with me.
“You didn’t,” he said. “Back to the dorm?”
“Yes, please,” I replied and began walking. Brian followed about 10 steps behind, and since I was mad, I set a fast pace.
The whole walk back I silently cursed him for being so stubborn and pigheaded, and by the time we reached the room, I was ready to explode. Instead, I entered the room, leaving the door open, grabbed my Psych book, and flopped down on the bed with the book open to a random page as I continued to fume. Brian entered the room, quietly shut the door and then sat on the couch flipping through his phone in silence.
“What are you studying?” he asked after a few minutes.
“None of your damn business!” I snapped.
“Really? Is that a lesson in psychology?” he asked with a serious expression. “I had no idea that there was a chapter on none of your damn business. What does it say?”
“It says that it’s none of your damn business!” I shouted. “Now shut up and let me study!”
“Oh now, that’s just obstinance,” he observed.
“What are you even talking about?”
“I’m sure that being educated and all, you know that the root of obstinance is not in achieving some aim in reality, but in establishing a subjective feeling of superiority, right?” he said casually as he continued poking at the screen of his phone.
“Ha ha. Very funny,” I replied, not at all amused. “Yes, you’re smart. You know things. Now know this: I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
“Okay, your call,” he said with a shrug. “I was just trying to be helpful.”
I sat on my bed trying hard to contain the rage that was building inside me, but watching him mess with his phone only made it worse, and after a few minutes, I blew.
“If you really want to be helpful, then talk to me, darn it!” I shouted. “Don’t just criticize me and then walk away!”