Dear Mr. Pessimist {Completed}

~22~ I'm Here All Night

Dear Mr. Pessimist,

I'm sorry for ruining everything for you. It was my fault, please don't sit and blame yourself.

Sincerely,

Syd

"All night, you're kidding me, right?"

Bennett stared at his parents with an astonished look, to which they only returned with angry looks.

"We can't let those kids break in again, Ben. We can't go and hire a ton of new people to train, either. It'll only be until we can get security cameras put in." Mr. Banks said, his eyes drifting toward me.

"And what if I have plans?" Bennett growled.

"You don't have plans, kid." His dad replied, "You have a couple friends and don't have a girlfriend, so tell me what the hell you have plans for." I lifted my head up and stared at the Banks in horror.

How could they go on treating their son like absolute crap? Even if my dad hadn't been there, he'd never say anything like this to me.

"He has friends." I spoke up for him before I could stop myself, "Why are you sitting here and ridiculing him. He's your son, not a dog!" I saw Tristan and Bennett both shaking their head behind me.

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Banks said, crossing her arms over her chest, "When I want advice from an eighteen year old girl on how to raise my son, I'll ask for it."

"Raise your son? Every time I've seen you talk to him, you're ridiculing him, telling him how bad of a person he is. God only knows what you say when I'm not around." Bennett stood up behind me as my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"Syd, just drop it. Just go-" I shook my head, shrugging his hand off.

"Who do you think you are? You do realize that I can fire you right now, don't you?" Mr. Banks snapped, his eyes on his son. I shrugged, shaking my head at them.

"Do it then. It's not going to stop me from thinking you guys are bad parents. That you don't understand what praise is, that you can't tell your son how wonderful he is for once. How great he is at cooking. You guys aren't even here half the time, he's the one that keeps this place running." I stepped forward, "If you're going to fire me for stating my mind then do it." I saw Mrs. Banks recoil at my words, almost as if I had punched her.

"Sydney, come on." Bennett grabbed my hand, and after one last glare at his parents, I let him drag me out of the building. Once we were outside the pink shop, he took my face in his hands and kissed me before laughing.

"Thank you. No one has ever. . . Hannah couldn't even. . . thank you." He stuttered, smiling.

The uncertainty I had felt in my chest when saying what I had to his parents, disappeared when I saw the smile on his face.

"Why do you let them talk to you like that, Bennett? Like you're not good enough for anything?" I asked, glancing through the window. I could see Tristan behind the counter, his eyes on us.

"Because I'm not. My whole life I've been trying to be good enough, trying to show them that I can do what they want me to do. But whatever I do is never perfect, it's never good for them. When I met Hannah, it only added to their list. They can't help but belittle me, Sydney. Because I'll never be as great, as rich, as perfect as they are." I shook my head staring up into his eyes.