Chaos. Defined as complete disorder and confusion.

Unpredictable. Defined as behaving in a way that is not easily predicted.

Both words are perfect to define my relationship with him. The male who occupies my thoughts but never in a good way. How can it be good? He’s my arch-nemesis. The male who makes my blood boil and my emotions negative. He has a name, I know, but he isn’t worthy of a name. He isn’t worthy of even being on my mind but he still pops up in one way or another. I see the school and instantly think of him. I look into my backyard and see the abandoned treehouse and think of the days that used to be full of life. Full of times that I wish I can erase him of or replace him from those good moments.

    I remember when he became my arch-nemesis. Wait, aren’t arch-nemeses only for fictional characters or dramatic people? Not exactly. It’s typical to only have those two categories on where to find an arch-nemeses but it doesn’t mean ordinary people can’t have one either. Whether it be the girl who is always making it a competition with you in gym class to the boy who tries to answer every math question before you can get a word out. They come in all shapes and sizes in many forms. Mine just so happened to come in the shape of my ex best friend. The one person who knew everything about me. Which meant he knew all my secrets. Just like I knew his. We always tiptoed around the major secrets like… well, it’s just a big secret that should be just that. But smaller secrets like how I didn’t know the difference between left and right until I was in fifth grade or how he didn’t know how to tie his shoes until he was in sixth grade were out in the open.

We always had a mutual rule between us not to reveal the big ones but to be honest, there were always those moments that got us pretty close. It was always when we were just getting fed up with each other to the point where we’re almost close to raising a hand and turn our verbal fights into physical ones. Take note that he would never throw the first punch and that we knew where not to hit each other. Trial and error is how we learned which places to respect not to hit. It doesn’t mean we actually get into physical fights. It just means that if it were to happen, we would know what to do and what to expect.

Getting back to the point, I remembered when we became arch enemies. It was the year my dad had died. It was the same year my mom lost herself. They considered themselves best friends. When no one was there for them growing up, they always had each other and even after they had me, they still had each other to depend on when the hardships came. The hardships of parenthood and unemployment and that excruciating moment where they almost gave up on each other and their marriage. But in the end, they had each other and always did.

I was fourteen when he died. I was growing and with a growing teenager came new emotions one wouldn’t experience until around that age. And when someone who grew up believed in marrying their best friend, I was convinced he was the one for me. We had already shared our first kiss when we were just kids but that was just two little kids wanting to do what our parents did when they showed their love for each other and for us, what better way then a small kiss? I had made the first move and though we’ve grown up and had more kisses with other people, it was my worst kiss so far.

As we grew up, we were drifting apart. It wasn’t noticeable but it was there. Simple things like not hanging out during lunch or hanging out with different people. I would be with the other classified nerds and him with the classified athletes of the school, or as a cliche movie would call them, the popular kids. This put a strain on our relationship since people seemed to think it weird that he would hang with what they called a nerd. I thought it weird that he would listen to other people and let them control his life and choices. Granted I was the same way with him but I always had the best intentions when I would tell him what to do. Little things like that would drift us until the day my father got sick. Really sick.

I was just about to turn fourteen, excited to have him over to spend the day together before my birthday party that he of course would be invited to. But the thing that confused me was that he canceled. Said he had lots of homework to do before he could be able to go anywhere. That his mom was making him do it. That’s what made me more confused. His mom loved me and would usually make an exception when it came to me because she knew that I would help him with his homework.

So I decided I would spend the day with my parents. I had no problem considering the fact that I loved them and with them, I was more likely to get more stuff from them. Heading to the mall, we were all in a great mood. Until the incident of course. Who could be in a good mood when you see the same person canceling at the mall with other people? Laughing and knowing that they intentionally canceled on a person who considered them their best friend? And after getting ice cream, their father collapsing in the middle of the food court where he saw what happened and didn’t bother to help but rather gawk.

Now, even though I was in the car right behind the ambulance that took my dad away to the hospital, I could still remember the expression on his face. The parted lips, wide eyes, brows up as he seemed to be in conflict with himself. In conflict of whether to run over and help my family and I or stay and gossip of what happened with the people he considered his friends. It frustrated me to see him turn his back on me and choose them over me. The pain I felt for my father multiplied to the point where I was crying in the car. Crying not only for the fear of losing my father but fear of losing my best friend and my, at the time, love of my life.

The next month was a total blur for me. My birthday party had been canceled due to the fact that no one was home and if they were, it was only to grab a few things before leaving back to the hospital. I continued to go to school but found no peace there. News had spread about my father and what else is there to expect from someone who barely has a handful of friends? Everyone avoided me and didn’t want to be seen with the girl who could crack into tears at one wrong word. My friends stood with me and supported me and though I appreciated it, there was only one person I needed in my state of despair, and he was too busy conducting rumors behind my back to help.

The day my father died was the day that I stopped seeing him as my best friend and more as a person who I wish I could stop tying together with memories I enjoyed. I heard the news through my school counselor. She had pulled me from my class and I didn’t know what to expect when I followed her into the hallway. The look on her face was probably a sign as to what she could have told me but I refused to believe it, let alone think it. So when she told me the news about my father passing, I was devastated. Unable to comprehend what I was doing, I ran away from her.

My tears blinded me and my throat tight, trying to take in air from the amount of crying I was doing, I ran to the one place I thought would be the safest. The staircase at the back of the school. It was secluded and there weren't any cameras that could spot me so it gave me comfort as I clung to a rail and sobbed.

What seemed like hours must have just been about a half hour when I heard his voice. “Crying again? Don't you know when to stop?” He had said, the tone in his voice harsh and cruel, unlike the voice of soothing and caring that used to be directed towards me. I couldn't understand why he was acting that way towards me, especially since he knows of my predicament.

I tried to stand to go away but my legs were weak along with the rest of my body. I couldn't handle the weight of my own body as I fell again and continued to cry for my father who I loved dearly. The exasperated sigh that escaped him struck something in me, something that had been longing to escape me since he had started changing. With the new emotion to mask what I was truly feeling, I tried again to stand and was finally successful.

Gripping the railing with one hand, my teary eyes glared up at the boy who has known me all his life and I have known in return. The smirk that formed on his face gave me my first step towards him and the chuckle that left him moved me towards my second. The more I thought about the wrong that he has been doing to me, the more I felt the anger drive me forward. My tears weren’t just for the loss of my father but now, for the act I was going to commit. He didn’t even seem concerned as I finally reached the top step next to him. He had grown over the summer and was now taller than me but that didn’t stop me. I reached up and slapped him as hard as I can.

The adrenaline that coursed through my body from my hand was all I needed to realize what I had done. We were both in shock. The fact that I would even do such a thing to him was unthinkable, but then again, no one was thinking. I took a step down, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I had just slapped him before the first thought popped up and I mustered it out. “Don’t ever talk to me again.” The way I said those words shocked me as I turned around and decided to get my stuff so I could leave and head to the hospital. With the shock still running through me, it made me realize that I could use my anger towards him to keep myself distracted. Had I know this would lead to a series of events that occured for the next four years of high school, I probably wouldn’t have chose what I did. But as much as we want to change our history, we can’t.

The years had passed and things have changed, myself included. I was soon approaching graduation, already eighteen and my stuff packed to head to college once it was time. I was ready to leave. My childhood home had become a burden to me without the sounds of my father’s booming laugh or the jokes from my neighbor, who happened to be what others would describe as an arch nemesis. We had seemed to get into a sort of routine of just arguing with each other whenever we see one another in the past four years of high school. Unlike the childish bickering we used to have when we were younger, these ended up with us in detention sometimes or in the principal’s office. But no matter what they made us do, it was always going to stay the same. We had both started something that could have been easily avoided our freshman year but it wasn’t going to be like that. No, it was probably going to turn into something much worse.

Tommy, my boyfriend of now three years knew of my situation, having been witness to one of my arguments with the boy and standing up for me when he heard what he was talking about. Since that day at the ending of Freshman year, we had become friends and then more. He was able to calm me down sometimes when it came to him but today was not one of those days.

It was raining, I remember that for sure. Everyone was rushing inside of the school to get out of it but I had forgotten something in my car so I was forced to go back and stay out in it longer. He had pulled up right beside me and parked, making me groan as I realized he might start an argument or something. Not wanting to be caught up in the rain for much longer, I hurriedly got my purse and backpack and closed the trunk, feeling the rain hit the top of my head harder. I started my trek towards the parking lot and towards the dry shelter before I heard him. “Isn’t today your parents anniversary, or supposed to be anniversary?”

The question stilled me as I remembered the date and finally realized the importance of it. I turned back towards him, between two cars and out of sight of anyone but him. “I’d stop talking now,” I warned, “Before I go over there and pummel you into the ground.” My body was shaking by now and I knew that if he continued talking about my parents, there would be nothing to hold me back.

The smirk on his face was big, unable to hide even if he tried, which he wasn’t. “It was a simple question. I mean, they were like my parents too.” Hearing him say that those words angered me even more. “‘Like my parents too’? If you saw them as your parents too, where were you when my dad collapsed? Where were you he he got sick? Where were you when he was stuck in the hospital? When he died? When we held his funeral?! You were too busy making fun of me! You were too busy thinking of ways to humiliate me! You don't deserve to even say that they were like your parents too because you abandoned them and you abandoned me!”

Everything in me had finally snapped. Nothing was left to say as I stood there, a foot away from. Having yelled each word at him had brought me closer till I was glaring up at him. He seemed stun as this was the first time I spoke about my dad in any of our arguments. Then again, he was the one to bring him up. It was hard to tell but I thought I saw some sort of emotions in his eyes. Maybe regret or maybe sadness. I couldn't tell as he looked away and straightened himself up. “You should have seen it coming.” He muttered before pushing past me, making me turn around and glare.

To be honest, I felt like I was in an out of body experience or something like that. When I came back into reality, it turned out that I had started screaming at him. That I dropped my stuff and was just crying and screaming after him. Tommy had found me curled up on the parking lot when I didn't show up to first period. That I was cold and frozen from the rain. When I came to, I was in the nurse's office with my mom on one side and Tommy on the other. I seemed numb all the rest of the day and if I'm being honest, the rest of the week too.

He had left me alone for the week until he noticed I was getting back to normal. But it wasn't the same. He seemed more cautious and careful about he said. Even after we graduated, every time the holidays came around, we would see each other. As we grew older, our relationship had weirdened. It wasn't the same back in high school and definitely not the same back when we were kids. It seemed more playful now.

Decades have passed and my grandkids were visiting for the weekend. Tommy and I had gotten married and we had as many kids as we could afford, which was just four. We had luckily gotten into the same retirement home back in our hometown and it helped to see the town when my memories were fading away.

It was peaceful this day as I finished telling a story before being sprayed by a water gun, making me gasp as I looked at him. “Get back here you!” I yelled, standing with the help of my grandkids and cane, the little ones giggling and watching as he wheeled away.

Yeah, even he was still in my life. He was Tommy and I’s next door neighbor in the hall we lived in. Our relationship had matured but we still held a little rivalry between us. But no matter what, he will always be considered my arch nemesis and even now, our relationship will always be chaos, unpredictable, and now, playful.