Uncontrollably Fond

Chapter 42

Time really gets faster when you are enjoying things. I was still on my hangover from the happiness I felt during the camp. Especially our last night at camp and last bonfire, we shared stories and left our faces with plastered smiles.

The spiritual talk that Mr. Dawson arranged earlier made a huge impact in my mind, heart and soul. I'm glad to have that camp. It was more than I ever imagined. It seemed like slowly time heals me inside out.

Maybe that's what all I needed to get myself together. Don't get me wrong because my friends have been talking to me about it from time to time. But there's a big difference from hearing and listening. Maybe I got used on hearing it that I don't really listen to them anymore. And it's good to hear it from other people, it makes me listen to them. It seemed new.

—

I arrived home surprised and tears fell down when I saw a painting signed by my mom about 3ft. x 4ft. size. It was a half finished painting of a mother and child impasto-styled, encased in a glass frame. There was small written letters on the part left blanked, paint your chosen style here and finish this for me, love.

"Your mom left this in my possession before she got terribly sick." Dad settled it down the floor, facing me.

"Mom." I said but came out more like a whisper. I studied the painting in front of me with wonder and fascination.

I couldn't believed that she left me with something so beautiful and mesmerizing piece of her. I could still vividly remember her standing behind the easel. It was a cold late November afternoon. The weather changed in a very unpredictable way. It was around half an hour after two but the skies turned gray and small raindrops fadedly fell on the roof but the way Mom moved gracefully inside the art room as I watched her from the doorway contradicted the grouchy weather outside. The techniques she used to brush colours of green, blue, yellow and orange on an empty canvas made the whole room brighter and light.

"Belated happy birthday, darling." Dad leaned the painting on the maple coffee table in the living room and hugged me.

"Thanks dad, best gift ever." I hugged him back.

"Yeah. Although it's late because of your camp." He shrugged. "How was it anyway?"

"It was good, actually. There was this talk about life in college and how different it would be from high school. I got some few pointers." I told him, "And they had this small surprise on our birthdays. We got cakes, both me and Dylan." I added, the last part was almost a whisper.

"Oh. Regarding about th—"

"Where's Alec and Aunt Lucy?" I asked quickly and chirpily, trying to change the topic that's going to lead to interrogations about my relationship with and I quote "
'Robert's son'.

"Well, they're visiting Lucia again. She's getting better."

"Oh. That's a good thing." I said and meant it. I've only seen her mom twice when I was younger but I remember that she's a good old lady.

"Yeah. It's good. A relief actually." Dad held my hand. "Anyway, about you and—" He got back to the topic I was trying to avoid.

I don't know why but I just don't feel like talking about it with Dad. The last time we spoke about boys was when I was crying my heart out about the failed relationship I had with Parker. And to tell you, it is really awkward.