Growing up (Get Scared- continued)

Confrontations

Nick's pov.

"Nick, please eat the ice cream," my dad quietly says to me in the middle of Baskin Robbins. He said he wanted to talk to me, but that's the first thing he's said to me since we got here.

  It's just ice cream. It's good. It's cold and creamy and perfect for a hot day like this. It's safe to eat. It's safe to eat. I can eat it. It's okay to eat it.

"Nicholas, please."

  Eat it. Eat it. It's simple, just put it in your mouth and swallow; don't even have to chew. Okay, ready. On three I'm going to start eating it. One...two.

"Nick-"

"SHUT UP! I'M TRYING AND YOU PUSHING ME ISN'T HELPING," I finally snap at my dad.

"It doesn't look like you're trying," he says as he gestures at my ice cream cone that hasn't been touched. It's already starting to melt and drip down the cone.

  My heart feels like it just stopped. My lungs feel like they've been tied shut. And my eyes feel like they've been boiling saltwater. 

  When I say "I'm trying," it's the truth. I've been pushing myself so hard to stop being so afraid of eating and gaining weight, but it's not always going to look or feel happy and nice. I'm not always going to be able to eat something without panicking. Some things are still hard for me and I just wish he understood that.

"You know what? Fuck this," I mutter and throw the cone to the floor, then get up and start walking outside. I'm only about two miles away from home; I can walk. 

"Nicholas!" My dad yells, "Get back here!"

  I keep walking, out and head in the direction of home, with tears starting to swell up in my eyes. I wipe away the tears with my hoodie sleeve before any can fall.

  He steps out of the ice cream parlor, so I start jogging. This is a bad idea. A very bad idea. I am going to pass out if I jog for too long.

"NICHOLAS BLAKE MATTHEWS!"

I turn around quickly, "WHAT!? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"

"You need to start respecting me more! Watch your language!" he shouts at me.

"Whatever," I mumble as I roll my eyes, then start walking away again.

"Nick, please, we need to talk," my dad begs. He runs up to me and holds my shoulders and our eyes meet. God, I hate this. Please stop touching me. Please let me go. 

"About what?" 

"About you. How are you, Nicholas?" he asks.

"I.. Uh.. I'm fine."

I bet on everything I have that my eyes shifted uncontrollably. 

"You don't look fine," he says. 

  I stutter out gibberish trying to defend myself and my lies to no avail. His eyes are still locked on me, but I can't keep that eye contact. He hugs me and rubs my back. Stop it, that's my only weakness. 

"You don't have to lie to me, Nick, I'm your dad. You can trust me," he tells me. 

  Words get stuck in my throat. It makes me even more anxious to not be able to speak. I'm taking too long to reply. He's going to get upset.

He lets go of me before speaking.

"Back there, what was holding you back?" my dad asks.

  Fidgeting with my sleeves and swaying side to side, I answer, "I don't know, sometimes I just feel gross when eating, so it's hard... And it takes me a minute. I really was trying, dad."