Armand Seven, Part Two: Let it Go

"Grandpa Max!"

"Dad!"

Dad and I got off the couch and had a group hug with Grandpa Max, who looked great, as always. He was fifty-eight, and although his hair was now mostly gray, he didn't have a lot of wrinkles or health problems.

"Where's Mom?"

"Oh, she's downstairs with your fiancee, Patrick. Congratulations on the engagement, by the way. Ephemera's a sweet girl, I'm happy for you two. How are you doing, Armand? You look good."

"I'm fine, Grandpa Max. I've been having a great time back at home."

"School going all right?"

"Yes, I got on the Dean's List."

"Aah, that's amazing! I'm glad to see that your dad passed on the good old Hunt family intelligence to you."

"How are you, Grandpa Max?"

"Pretty good. I just got done filming a movie where I'm a mob boss. It's really exciting. I can't wait till it's released. How about you, Patrick? Besides being engaged, how is everything?"

"Going well. I have an opportunity to perform in Las Vegas next month, so I'm coming up with some new illusions for that."

"I am really glad to see you happy again and doing what you want, Patrick. I was worried about you when you were working at the accounting office, I knew that wasn't good for you."

As I was standing watching Dad and Grandpa Max talk to each other, I could see where Dad got his concern from. Grandpa Max was showing the same worry that Dad had shown me when I wasn't happy. At this point in my life, I was still way too young to even think of having a kid of my own, but if I did have one someday, I hoped I could be as understanding as Grandpa Max was to Dad, and Dad was to me. I felt a lot of warm feelings in my heart seeing the two of them interact with each other, and I could see how much their relationship mirrored mine and Dad's. Grandpa Max was often busy with work, as was Dad, but for them, it wasn't frequent get-togethers that kept them close, it was the mutual trust, respect, and love they had for each other. That was true for Dad and I as well, with me being away at college, I did call Dad and email him sometimes, but we didn't talk every day like some people did. However, we were still as close as ever. It was something I hadn't noticed with Mom and Dad. The first time I saw them have a fight, it was because Dad had stayed over at Emmanuel's house, and Mom was mad he wasn't there in person with her. From what I saw of how a good relationship was supposed to work, I felt like Mom didn't trust Dad, or respect the fact that he had a friend to hang out with.

Even though I felt much better about myself, there was one thing that was still on my mind, which was had I loved Mom? I knew what I had said at the hospital four years ago, but was that just me venting my frustrations, or did I actually truly hate Mom for all the things she had done to me? I knew no one would blame me if I said I didn't, or that I didn't know, because I came from a family where people were accepting of each other, and I guessed I didn't really need to answer that question right now, especially since no one had asked me. Why was I even thinking about that anyway? Who really cared? Why did I care so much about that stuff? I sighed a little at myself quietly, while trying not to make Grandpa Max or Dad feel like they were the source of me sighing, and tapped my fingers on my arm, trying to calm myself down.

Suddenly, I remembered the painting I had made earlier in the week that I wanted to give as an engagement present to Ephemera and Dad, wondering how I could unveil it. I thought it might be fun to do it after dinner and give a little speech or presentation about it. It was just a little piece of my style that I wanted to give to them. Dad and Grandpa Max were chatting away with each other, so I excused myself. They nodded and smiled at me, saying they'd see me down at dinner, and I made my way to my room to get the painting ready. I had been storing it on an empty nail hook on my wall until Thanksgiving, and I pondered what I should do. Did I really want to just lay it against the counter or something? It couldn't do any harm, it's not like anyone would knock it down, but I didn't want the canvas to get dirty either. I finally decided that I would just bring my easel downstairs and set the painting on it with a blanket over it.

Now that I had figured that out, I wanted to dress up a little bit, so I put on a different shirt before heading downstairs. As I arrived in the kitchen, I was greeted by Grandma Soleil.

"Armand! Hi, sweetie! How are you?"

"Hi Grandma Soleil, I'm good. You?"

"Doing well. Do you want some help with that?"

Grandma Soleil held onto the painting while I set up the easel. When I was done, she placed the painting on it.

"Is this an art presentation?"

"Sort of. I want to share it with everyone after dinner."

"Hey, you two, the table's set, I think dinner can start now."

Ephemera came over and grabbed our attention, and I was glad I had covered up the painting so I could still keep it a surprise even though it was down here. Grandpa Max and Dad came downstairs, and we all took our places around the dining room table. As Ephemera started passing some bowls around so we could each take a helping, I realized this was probably the first Thanksgiving dinner I was experiencing with a true family feel.

Past times, the only good Thanksgivings I remembered were when Grandpa and Grandma stopped by because Mom would try to behave herself to look good for them. Dad would cook a meal and we'd all eat together out on the back patio with an extra table to make room for the extra people in the house. When Dad worked at the accounting office, Mom tried to get something fancy planned, and we'd all eat dinner with tension so thick it needed to be cut in order to see the person at the other end of the kitchen bar. Mom would complain that Dad was sad and the dinner would be unpleasant, to say the least. Then when I started hitting adolescence, we quit having Thanksgiving all together because Mom and Dad were fighting nonstop. I supposed it was for the best because it wasn't like we had a whole lot to be thankful for other than being alive.

"I have an idea. It's something we've never done before, but I think this year is a particularly good year for it. Let's go around the table and share some stuff that happened that we are thankful for. I'll go first. I'm thankful for my upcoming gig in Las Vegas next month."

"I'm thankful for Armand, and my new-found friendship with him. I'm happy that he and I are getting to know each other better."

"I'm thankful for my health. I am still blessed with the ability to do my job without any major aches and pains. I really love it and I cannot imagine doing anything else."

"I'm thankful that Patrick is happy again. Your father and I were worried for you when you were going through your depression. I'm very glad you pulled through and rediscovered yourself."

Everyone had gone and said what they were thankful for, and it was now my turn. I was a little nervous, since like Dad had said, we had never done anything like this before as a family. I thought he was right though, this year was the best time for it because I felt like I did have things to share.

"I'm thankful for Ephemera. She has shown me what it's like to have a mother, and even though she isn't my biological mother, she has definitely been there for me, teaching me deep truths in the short time I have gotten to know her."

After our group sharing, we all continued catching up with what was going on in each others' lives, and also talked about random topics. When I saw that dinner was winding down, I decided it would be a good time for me to unveil my gift to Dad and Ephemera. I made an announcement to the table, and everyone stopped talking, eagerly awaiting what I was going to do. I got up, and retrieved the painting from under the blanket, displaying it to everyone as I did.

"I painted this on Tuesday morning. It's not really of anything, but it symbolizes what I have been feeling ever since I came home to visit. My mind and emotions have been all over the place, because as all of you know, this house didn't hold very many pleasant memories for me, up until now. These yellow streaks I painted are rays of positive energy that mimic the new memories I've made in these few short days. I used to think this house was full of sadness and despair, but now I view it as full of love and acceptance. Ephemera, I am truly sorry for how I acted when I heard about you and Dad's engagement. I hope you know what I said was not how I actually felt at all."

"I know, sweetie. Your father told me about the conversation you had after you stormed out. Apology accepted, of course, no doubt about that."

"Thanks, Ephemera. Dad, I'm sorry too."

"Water under the bridge, son."

"Last but not least, this painting is my engagement present to you guys. I'm really grateful that you will be my stepmom, Ephemera. You make my dad happy, and you make me happy too."