Armand Two: Hard to Convince

I sat in my art class, somewhat paying attention to Professor Frink, who was going on about a particular style of painting that was popular in the 1800s. It was true that I enjoyed art, but school had a way of sucking the fun out of it. I opened my sketchbook to work on my drawings for my other class. We were supposed to use our imagination to come up with three exaggerated drawings that were based on a real subject. I think the purpose of the exercise was to get us to think outside the box because anyone can look at a bowl of fruit and just draw what is there, but to look at a bowl of fruit and picture something about it that makes it unique is a whole other story. I had chosen three different things, my feelings growing up, my mom, and my dad. My feelings came out in the visual of a fantastical animal I had made up, with sharp horns coming out of its head and sharp tusks protruding from its mouth. It represented the mean things I often thought about myself, thanks to my mother's influence. I had drawn my mother as a hooded figure, clad with body armor, not because she was a strong woman, but because I felt like she was an impenetrable being, incapable of showing love to my dad and I, the very people whom she should have loved the most. My dad was represented as a circus performer on a pole, one because of his job in the entertainment industry, and two because he loved to laugh with me and make me feel better when I was down in the dumps.

"Armand Hunt? Did you hear me? Who painted Starry Night?"

"Vincent van Gogh."

"Very good. Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention, hmm?"

I nodded, and looked down again at my sketches, a little embarrassed that Professor Frink had caught me not listening to her lecture. I tried not to let it get to me though, as there was often at least one student who got in trouble daily due to this teacher's strictness, and I guess today it was my turn to be that student. The rest of class went without a hitch, with me putting the finishing touches on my sketches and then taking out my notebook again to take notes for the remainder of the class period.

After class was over, I headed towards the courtyard since it was a nice day out, still humid, but sunny and breezy. As I walked past a group sitting around a picnic table, I heard them talking about dark magic and voodoo, which I knew was a sub-culture of Louisiana. I didn't believe in any of that stuff myself, but it was intriguing to think that there might be powers or forces out there that some humans claimed to be able to interact with. I continued walking and made my way into the courtyard, where a few people were playing hackysack, some were playing frisbee, while others were sitting reading books or studying. I decided to get out my sketchbook and draw something, perhaps a sport scene, since I had been inspired by the various recreational activities going on around me.

I hadn't been drawing for more than about five minutes, when I saw a frisbee sail dangerously close to my nose, making me raise my hand up in defense so I wouldn't end up with a bloody nose, and it landed on the pavement next to me. I looked up and saw a red haired guy running towards me, whom I guessed was the owner of the frisbee.

"Hey man! I'm really sorry that almost hit you. That got out of control real fast, I didn't expect the frisbee to come all the way down here."

"It's okay. The wind can be an asshole sometimes."

I picked up the frisbee and handed it to the guy, who then smiled and thanked me. He turned around to leave, but changed his mind and looked back towards me, extending his hand in greeting. I reached up to shake it, smiling at him.

"My name's Remy. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm Armand."

"Do you want to play frisbee too? I figure, I almost hit you with it, the least I could do is let you return the favor, right?"

"Yeah, sure."

I put my sketchbook away, and got up, following Remy to the place he had put his backpack. I then set my backpack down next to where Remy had put his, then threw the frisbee around with him for a little while, until we both got hungry. As we went to pick up our bags, I told Remy that I really enjoyed hanging out with him. I was about to leave, when he asked me if I wanted to hang out some more and get some coffee and a bite to eat. I had always eaten by myself in the dorm, and I hadn't made any friends yet, which made me wonder why I was so eager to leave after having such a good time playing frisbee. Then the thought crossed my mind of what if I had inherited my mother's awkward social skills? She had always had a difficult time making friends. I remembered one time when I was at school and she was there for a meeting or something, how much of a hard time she had because she thought the other moms didn't like her. I saw the sadness in her eyes when she saw that they were ignoring her, but she never made an effort to go talk to them, she just assumed they hated her. Ugh, Mom. I hated thinking about my mother, but somehow, her stupid face always found its way into my head. I decided it was time to stop letting her get to me, and if I was determined to not be like her, then I was the only one who could change it. She wasn't here anymore to tell me what to do, and I had complete freedom of my own life.

"I know this really good restaurant not too far from here, unless you want to eat in the dorm food courts?"

"No, I always eat at the dorms. I haven't been around town much, honestly, other than just on campus."

I got in Remy's car and we headed off. The restaurant was really close, probably only a mile and a half outside of campus. Again, I wondered why I had never explored the town, and just kept myself in my own little bubble, scowling at myself as I wrestled with my thoughts. We ordered our food and sat down together at a little two seater table.

"Thank you for showing me this restaurant, Remy, and for inviting me to hang out with you."

"You're welcome. What's your major?"

"Fine Arts. You?"

"Construction Engineering."

"Wow. That's really specific. Have you been in college for a while, or did you just know that's what you wanted to study?"

"It's my second semester here. I like construction because I have a background in it. My family home was actually destroyed by Hurricane Katrina, and I helped rebuild it and some other houses in town. I really enjoyed the feeling I got when I was able to restore things to their former glory, so to speak."

"I'm sorry. That sounds terrible. I'm only second semester as well."

"That's cool, we're probably around the same age then? Eighteen going on nineteen?"

"Yup, that's right."

"How about you? Any reason you picked your major?"

"Well... sort of. I've always liked painting, and creating things of my own, but I was never able to fully express myself through it because of extenuating circumstances, so I thought coming to college was my way to find myself, I guess? I don't know, that sounds stupid and cheesy."

"Nah, it's not stupid. I think that's what a lot of people do, they come here to explore and figure things out. You're not from around here, though, are you?"

"No. I'm from California. Silicon Shores, specifically."

"Ahh, California. The land of palm trees."

And death, I thought, scowling yet again when I thought of Mom. Memories of that day I talked to my father because he felt the exact same way I do now came into my head. I had told him to move on because maybe he was the one holding himself prisoner, and perhaps I was doing the very same thing to myself. I looked down at my coffee cup while I sipped it, wondering when memories of my mother were ever going to stop haunting me, and if I was ever going to be able to take my own advice. One thing was for sure, I knew now firsthand, how frustrating it was for Dad, when he told me he was stuck in those few months after Mom had died, as if she was mocking him from the afterlife somehow, laughing that he was pathetic because he seemed lost without her, even though her being alive never did him much good either.

"Armand? Are you all right? Your face kind of fell a bit there."

"Sorry. I just had some depressing thoughts resurface. It's nothing."

"Okay, I'm sorry if I offended you."

"No, it's nothing you did, I promise."

Remy smiled at me, and continued eating. I was glad I had made a new friend, but I was secretly hoping that in time, I would learn to open up to him and stop hearing my mother's persistent voice in my head telling me I wasn't worth anything. I must be worth something for Remy to even want to be my friend... he wouldn't have given his time to someone he thought was just a stupid schmuck, right? Even though my brain was telling me it was true based on the evidence that was right in front of me, it was my heart that was hardened, and I knew that it would be much more difficult to convince.