A Moment like this
Nhan Ngo
[33]
December 31th, 2009
It’s eight in the evening and it’s already pitch dark outside as if it was well late into the night, the city glowing iridescently in flutters of white, yellow and orange beneath the crescent moon and interspersed stars. I am sitting at my dining table, taking the last sip out of the congee I’ve made earlier in the day, alone. After not receiving my paternity test results and Abigail’s untimely and unexpected visit, I wasn’t in the mood to concoct anything elaborate or time-consuming for just one person. Amadeo’s been out the entire day and still hasn’t arrived home yet; his whereabouts, as usual, unknown. I really ought to consider getting him a cell phone, but now with the possibility of having my scholarship revoked, I am reluctant to spend any more money.
I haven’t really done much today. After Abigail leaving, I opted to go for a walk around the city to calm myself down and clear my mind. She was so close to breaking down all the walls I’ve tried to build after graduation that it left me shaken. I remember first developing feelings for her during the eleventh grade and having them reciprocated; however, neither decided to pursue the first move until a year later for no reason other than not being willing to risk a previously established friendship. After conceding, as with any relationships, things blossomed during the first few months, levelling off afterwards, and from there begins a repetitive cycle of peaks and troughs until eventually the final plummet became so deep that any efforts to remedy proved impractical and illogical.
I still remember that day quite vividly, the day I caught Abigail cheating on me with my best friend of ten years at the time, Jason. The image of the two arm in arm, Abby’s head in Jason’s shoulder; the bartering of smitten looks and the exchange of words, it was both enlightening, heartbreaking, but most of all, sickening. I had never fallen so hard for someone before and when you do, it’s hard to find the strength to get back up. They say you never ever forget your first love, earlier today proved exactly just that.
As I got up to bring my empty bowl to the sink, a couple of knocks rapped at my door. Amadeo must have forgotten his eyes again; I’ve mentioned to him more or less a few times that there was always a spare one under a mat, but I supposed it didn’t stick. The knocking in a set of three continued a second time before I opened the door to find a rather astutely short elderly woman standing in front of me. She had short white hair which was carefully curled, her baby blue earrings matching that of her thick knitted sweater with abstract white patterns etched horizontally beneath her bosom. Her velvet black skirt extended all the way down to her ankle and her leather boots covered any remnant of skin remaining on her legs.
“Good evening young one,” she spoke in a scratchy and shaky voice, smiling so that the wrinkles on her pale white face multiplied into ripples. “Would you by any chance be Brendan Huong?”
“Yes, that would be me. Forgive my informalities, but I don’t believe we’ve ever met before?”
Her blue eyes pierced through me, understanding. “I live down the hallway way on the other end of the condo. We must not have been lucky enough to cross paths yet. Anyway, I have something that belongs to you.”
I furrowed my eyebrows together as she handed me a brown clasp envelope. There was nothing on the front except for my name and address.
“The mailman must have put it in my mailbox by accident,” she explained. “It actually came by this morning, but I didn’t arrive home until a while ago.”
Just then it dawned on me what was in my hands and they began to tremble slightly. The elderly women appeared not to have noticed and slightly bowed her head. “My apologies for the delay,” she continued.
“No it’s okay, mam. Neither of us wouldn’t have known otherwise. Thank you for being so prompt. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s my pleasure. Well, you have yourself a great New Year’s Eve, Brendan,” she smiled, her teeth a sparkling shade of white. I couldn’t help to think they must be veneers, but there weren’t any upfront evidence.
“Thank you, erm...”
“You can call me Martha.”
“Thank you Martha. You have a great New Year’s Eve as well.”
I brought the envelope into my bedroom quickly as if it was a hot piece of coal burning and searing through my hands. I could have opened it right away in the living room considering no one was home, but there was something about being amidst the four walls of my bedroom that instilled a soothing assurance of complete privacy. I sat myself down at my work desk, staring intently at the enveloped laid out before me, my breathing intensified and my palms now a tinge clammy as I unwrapped the string slowly and carefully, treating my results in the same fashion a scientist would handle a rare, delicate sample.
Slipping out the sheet of white paper, a change of pace immediately kicked in once the logo of the genetic clinic appeared. I bypassed all the unnecessary information, darting my eyes and focus to the main content, the bedrock of how everything will unfold. As I read the words carefully, the breath escaping my lips comes to a halt. I place the paper back on my desk and ran both hands through my short black slowly downwards, the heat of the palm of my hands magnifying that already on my face. I bit my lip, telling myself that everything will be okay, convincing myself that I will be able to handle it because I always had, but neither was working; the words I had just read were embossed in my mind, bright, permanent:
The alleged father THOMAS J. HUONG can be excluded as the biological father of BRENDAN T. HUONG. Based on the genetic testing results, the probability of paternity is 0.01% when compared to an untested random man of the North American population.
I didn’t bother reading the rest. I didn’t need to. Had I paid more careful attention, I would have seen the conclusive results much sooner directly underneath the company logo in larger print and bolded across the paper: Results prove that Thomas Huong is not the real father of his son, Brendan.
I leaned back against my chair, my head rested on an angle as I looked first to the ceiling illuminated by a florescent light bulb and then to the glass edge of my work desk. From the corner of my eye, a white corner protruded from my stacks of University textbooks and I reached out to see what it was, certain that it wasn’t there before. It was the envelope that Thomas had given me three days ago and I had forgotten to open it.
Having nothing more to lose, I tear open the envelope and found a photo inside. It was the very same one Katherine took out of my luggages; the one of me, an infant wrapped in a baby yellow towel, buried inside Thomas’ arms whose eyes were filled with joy and love, beaming. I toss the photo beside the paternity test result, deeming the image superficial and erroneous, but before I could even contemplate and fully immerse myself in the ramifications of this revelation, another set of knocks came from the living room. Instinctively, I rushed to place both my paternity test and photo into the drawer and rushed out to open the door, adjusting my countenance as if nothing had happened during the few walking strides.
My eyes widened as the figure emerged behind the door. It was Emmanuel. He was wearing the same bomber jacket from before with a different coloured shirt underneath as well as a different pair of jeans.
“I really don’t—“
“My dad is back from his business trip. He resigned, saying he wanted to spend more time at home with me.”
I forced a smile. “I’m happy for you. Listen I—“
“He also told me everything that happened the day he met with you, every single detail.” Emmanuel’s eyes were filled with disappointment and relief.
I let out a sigh and widened the door for Emmanuel to walk in, knowing well that this conversation will be anything, but short. Rather than spend most of the time standing by the living room like last time, the two of us walked over to the sofa and sat down. A moment of silence passed between us, my thoughts wandering off to the reality of Thomas not being my father; not caring that Emmanuel was sitting right across from me.
“Why did you do it, Brendan?”
I am back at square one, without a dad...my thoughts began. Who was he then? Who was my mom with other than my dad? Had he a clue of my existence? What do I do now? If my own parents, my own flesh and blood can lie to me like this, what did that make of the world?
“Brendan?”
“Huh?”
“I asked you why you did it.”
“Why I did what?”
Emmanuel shoots me a look as if I’d gone mental. “Lie to me,” he explained as if it was obvious, and it was except I wasn’t able to grasp it. “You didn’t take the money. You also knew my dad tested you yet you adamantly decided to carry on with his request and you—” Emmanuel paused and I turned to look at him.
“You brought back my parents for me,” he continued and his face went soft. “I don’t know how you were able to do that, but you did.”
“Good to know,” I said. I didn’t smile or anything. I just looked at Emmanuel, eyes distant, not really seeing him across from me before darting my eyes away to the ground, my surroundings changing from tangible to surreal. I felt displaced from my body, watching everything occurring from above.
A look of concern crossed Emmanuel’s face. “Brendan, is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“No it’s not. You’ve barely said a full sentence since I’ve been here.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?”
“It’s not what I want to say, it’s what you want yourself to say, whatever it is you’re keeping inside.”
“I have nothing to say and I am not keeping anything inside.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
Emmanuel’s tone of voice annoyed me. “Alright, you what to know what I want myself to say? I want to say that I don’t want you in my life anymore. There, I said it, now would you do me the favour and grant this request?”
Emmanuel shakes his head. “That’s not true.”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t in good condition to carry on a lengthy argument. My patience was running thin rather quickly.
“You need to quit pushing people away, Brendan. I know what you’re doing and you really need to stop being so guarded.”
“You know nothing about me,” I retorted.
“By the same token you don’t have to know everything to surmise how someone is like either.”
“I never said you had to know everything.”
“Well then how can you accuse me of knowing nothing when I’ve known you for almost half a year now? Give me a break, Brendan. I know nothing about you? Who are you trying to kid? It doesn’t take decades or centuries to know something about someone. Heck, there are couples out there who marry after the first few months of meeting each other. If you’re waiting for that long, you might as well just decide on a solitary life.”
“I did decide on that, until you showed up.”
“You could have easily stopped me before. You could have told me you didn’t want me around.”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing now?”
Emmanuel takes in a breath, his patience slipping away also. “Why wait until now? Why didn’t you do it when we first met? If you argue for politeness’ sake, why not when we met again during September?”
I remained silent, not having a well articulated rebuttal to counter Emmanuel and he took this chance to pounce on me. “You know what you’re problem is, Brendan? You’re a coward. You don’t face up to your problems. You run away from them and you’re afraid to admit that to yourself, in effect, become afraid for once in your life to accept help from someone else and letting them in. You’re your own worst enemy and frankly, that’s why you’re currently without a dad. I should know because I was once like that too.”
The reiteration of Abigail’s accusation along with his ignorance of my predicament with Thomas did the trick and slapped me back to my senses temporarily. Emmanuel didn’t know how wrong he was; it’s exactly the fact that I didn’t let Thomas in that is serving to be the only means keeping me together right now. Had I had let him; I probably would last as long as I have. I then let out a burst of laughter, surprising Emmanuel and even myself. It was full of sarcasm, free of worry for what I was about to say next.
“You’re absolutely right,” I began. “I am. I am a coward. I’m weak, but whatever I am, you were not once like the way I was. You were used for money, I was used for the only gifts and talents I had—priceless, invaluable gifts; gifts which created labels that I lived my entire life under, labels that defined me and consumed me.
“Because I was smart, I wasn’t permitted to make any mistakes. Because my dad left me, I became dependent and needy for company, so much that I couldn’t say no to anyone because I foolishly thought that it would make them like me and accept me so that for once in my life I would feel belonged, only to realize that when I really needed someone, no one was ever really there. My gifts are my curse and it is the very thing that is destroying me at this very moment.”
“Then why do you keep going? Why don’t you close your walls fully instead of halfway because if you really wanted me to be alone, Brendan, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. Amadeo—the homeless guy whom we’ve seen many times right now wouldn’t be living with you either.”
My eyes widened.
“I’m no idiot, Brendan. You honestly think a haircut and wardrobe makeover can detract away from his natural features? Even a kid could tell Amadeo was the homeless man who usually sits across the Tim Hortons.”
“So then why didn’t you just break my cover from the start?”
“I wanted to see how far you were going to take this. I hate to break it to you, Brendan, but not everyone is out there to get you. You’re stereotyping and generalizing without even knowing it yet you had the audacity to tell Amadeo to not judge a book by its cover? Why don’t you take your own advice and for once stop, just for a moment to live your life and respect yourself first before doing that for others because you’re only making yourself your own one hell of a hypocrite here. Based on what you just said to me right now, I could easily say you know nothing about me at all, but I don’t because I’m not afraid to accept that you do indeed know many things about me, more than anyone for that matter."
I went mute again. I just wanted to be alone. I just wanted time to myself, to think, to sort things out, to reorganize, recoil and to recover. The more Emmanuel spoke, the less got through to my head and the more it began to ache. It was just too much for me to handle all at once and I resented how when what was on my plate decides to topple over, they do so wholly rather than one at a time. Seeming to sense this, Emmanuel gets up and walks across, taking a seat beside me. He placed a gentle hand on my arm and I could feel its warmth on my skin, warm enough for me to look up and pull away.
“No you’re right, Emmanuel. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know anything about...anything actually or anyone. I just need time to think,” I pleaded, close to breaking. “I just need some time to be alone. I’m sorry, alright? I can’t deal with this right now.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Emmanuel, please. I just—”
“No,” Emmanuel replied and remained seated.
“Fine, then I’ll go” I promptly got up, but Emmanuel reached out to pull me back.
“Alright fine, I’ll leave,” he conceded. “But this is not over yet, not by a long shot, Brendan; not until we resolve this once and for all, alright?”
I nodded curtly without looking at Emmanuel. He then walks past me and makes his way to the door. Before leaving he turns around. “And you might want to open the present I gave you for Christmas,” he said before closing the door.
I turn to look at my white Christmas tree adorned with variations of silver and blue ornaments. Emmanuel’s present was still sitting at the bottom, the ears of the gold tissue paper visible from the opening of the silver gift bag. I walked over to retrieve it, lighting up the tree while I was at it, but it wouldn’t glow and after checking the series of light, it turned out one tiny bulb was burnt, rendering the rest inactive, paralleling my own life at the moment. If one thing fell out of place, the rest too is either on hold, discarded, or falls with it. I’ve tried to balance, but my paranoid, reflective and contemplative nature prohibits it; a horrible propensity.
Rummaging through the gold tissue paper, I reach in to find a navy blue box wrapped in a matching gold ribbon, the words: To Brendan, From Em. Merry Christmas Buddy neatly etched diagonally in silver across the top right quadrant. I carefully pull off the ribbon and it relents with ease, fluidly and effortlessly. Taking off the lid off the rectangular box, a thin sheet of bubble wrap above a card was covering whatever was inside. I took a look at the card first:
Brendan,
Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year to you.
Best wishes for a fruitful, relaxing and joyous holiday season.
I cannot be more thankful and fortunate to have met a person, a friend, like you.
Hopefully there will be more chances to create more memories, just like the one imbued in this gift.
Emmanuel
I placed the card aside on the sofa and looked in to see an elegant picture frame and furrowed my eyebrows at its familiarity. As I examined it more closely, I realized I’ve seen the very same one before in Daniel’s room when Emmanuel gave me a place to stay for the night back in September. In it was a photo of the two of us taken during the outing he and I along with Evelyn had at Harbourfront a long while back. We were beaming, arms across each other’s shoulder. I don’t remember a time smiling this big in a photograph and for a brief moment I actually doubted that it was actually me in the picture. But it was, clear and vividly colourful, right in front of me, proof that it is possible to be happy, even if it’s fleeting, yet why do I feel as if it’s such a longs way away now?
Not feeling like being indoors, I opted to head out again. It was cold, but bearable and warm enough to straddle around for a long distance. The roads were dense, bombarded by cars in all four directions. A couple of horn blares could be heard as I walked down the main street and it was then followed by the sirens of fire trucks and ambulances. Chit chatter filled the sidewalk, in groups, in twos, everyone appeared to be with someone; everyone except me. Turning the corner into a smaller street I saw a little girl hand in hand with her father, the two smiling at one another, sharing a secret joke as they walked pass me without even noticing I was there. I then saw a father-mother-son trio who also mirrored the same joyous expression, cuddled together as they too walked pass me without acknowledgement. It seems the world is mocking my dismay.
I continued to walk, not paying attention to where I was going, my legs filled with a sudden adrenaline that showed no signs of stopping, fuelling at a pace similar to that of my thoughts. I was alone, that much I know in the figurative and literal sense. My identity felt compromised. I felt as if I’ve grown up living a double life, a life that was not my own, a life that belonged to someone entirely different, with an entirely different persona, different tastes, perspectives, opinions, and different ideologies. And now with the results flat out in the open and buried underneath my work desk, I was born again, unsure of my surroundings, unsure of where to go, what to do, who to trust, and how to live. I was born again, and no one was there.
A couple of male cackles snapped me out of my thoughts. Looking around at my surroundings, I didn’t know where I was. I was in the middle of some busy and loud street filled with hundreds of people at roaring bars, their music blaring and competing against one another that the therapeutic effect of music was heavily jeopardized. Many people were drinking, their faces pink, laughing loudly without a care in the world, celebrating the end of the year. Some lit sparklers and were twirling it around in circles and abstract shapes, the tips leaving a bright golden trail. Others ate while watching TV, doing a countdown to the eventual arrival of the year. I thought this was rather odd given the time of day, but taking out my phone to check the time, I was surprised to see that it was already 10:15 at night.
“Hey you,” a familiar voice called out and I turned in its direction to see the same two guys who I heard cackling before in front of a bar looking at me. The one who spoke to me had a beer in his hand while the other smoked a roll of weed and stared at me with a conniving grin.
“Come over here,” the smoker called out. He had a buzz cut, was lean built and wore clothes three times his size. I stood where I was, unmoving, panic stricken as the two guys looked at each other, nodded and began to move from their spot. Immediately on impulse, I walked away, quickly and I could feel them following not too far behind so I sped up my pace, turning into the first corner I saw and ended up in a narrow alleyway, the only light coming from the tiny lampposts—which threatened to haywire and black out at any given moment—and a couple of small house windows. Aside from me, the empty vehicles, barren trees and dirty garbage and recycling bins, the alley was vacant. I stopped, trying to assess where I was, but I heard footsteps coming from behind so I sped up again all the way to the end and onto another small street, though this time bigger than the previous. I tried to look for a street name or a path leading to another main street, but I couldn’t find any. The roads were damp from the previous snowfall, my feet making a splashing pattern with the water puddles that I stepped into. Another set of footsteps followed, this time of one person and I hastened further, perspiration forming on my skin underneath my clothes, heart doubling its normal pace. The more I walked, the closer the person appeared to get and seeing a small, blue lit intersection in front of me, the possibility of the two guys splitting to section me off dawned on me. I stopped, as did the person behind me, who then proceeded to walk slowly, his steps a rhythmic metronome. I should have stayed home.
Looking to my right, I saw a medium sized wooden stick and I reached over to grab it, holding onto it firmly. The person etches closer and I closed my eyes to regain my composure, fixing my grip, ready to take a swing. I counted to myself: one...two...three!
I turned around arms raised but the person was too quick for me and brought one hand on my hitting arm to stop me, his other arm on my shoulders to steady me. I winced at the contact and closed my eyes readying myself for a blow, a stab or even worse, a shot, but nothing happened. I waited for the voice of the second guy to approach from either end, but not a sound was heard. The two of us stood there for a moment before I brought up enough courage to open up my eyes, only to find a medium sized man in front of me, panting, scared. It took a while before I recognized him and dropped the stick from my hand.
“Amadeo!” I cried out of relief and ran into him, overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. The fear trickled through, exacerbating everything else, every hidden emotion from the arguments with Abigail and Emmanuel, the paternity test results, the hurt and disdain held towards my mom and Thomas. I was shaking.
Amadeo held me tightly. “Mio Dio what the hell were you doing wandering off into a narrow alley like that, Brendan?! Do you know what could have happened to you or where you could have ended up? Don’t ever do that again, good God, do I make myself clear?” he spoke without letting go and I nodded, my cheeks stained warm from the tears falling down my cheek and the warmth from Amadeo’s body.
When I finally recoiled, Amadeo let me go and looked at me right into the eyes. “You are telling me everything, Brendan, tonight. Not later, not tomorrow, not another time, tonight. Understood?”
Again, I nodded and conceded. Amadeo led me back out to the main street and I noticed that I hadn’t really walked too far from where I was. I just ended up on the far western side of the city and had I paid attention to where I was going, I would have known that getting back would connote a straight past east on College. There was a local Second Cup around the corner and Amadeo decided to remain there for a while. I spent the duration telling him everything that had happened which led up to the point of doing a paternity test, Abigail’s untimely arrival, my conflicting feelings for Evelyn, Emmanuel’s second passing by—everything as I had promised. Similar to a few days ago, Amadeo listened intently as if every word of mine held a secret clue leading to a solution of a puzzle or treasure and in a sense it was. It was the puzzle of my identity, the puzzle of my feelings, the puzzle of my life, a puzzle that even I myself, the owner of the most pieces is still—after eighteen years—unable to solve. By the time I had finished, it was exactly eleven. The cafe was cluttered with people, the scent of caffeine the strongest I’ve smelt.
Amadeo looks at me with a sympathetic smile. “Why are you punishing yourself like this, Brendan?”
“Because it’s all I’ve ever known. I feel as if I’m not allowed to be happy because when I do, something equally if not more horrid comes along and sends me into yet another downward spiral, deep to a point where I don’t even dare myself to hope too high anymore because it just opens the door just as wide for disappointment to crawl in.”
“I understand,” Amadeo said to my surprise instead of giving me an antagonistically optimistic perspective. “Brendan, I won’t tell you that the world is all flowers and rainbows, but by the same token it’s not all barren and stale either. Perhaps now your chain of events haven’t been the greatest, but that doesn’t and shouldn’t be your reason to subject yourself to a torturous mindset. When you hit rock bottom, the only way out is up just as the saying there is always a bright side to every situation. You just have to make sure to hold on to that direction and light because it’s never about the quantity; it’s about quality. Nevertheless I am really sorry that you have to be dealing with all of this at your tender age; you are much too young...”
“It’s okay,” I said, feeling better and lighter now that I had let things out. “I’m used to it.”
Amadeo raises an eyebrow.
“Okay maybe not when everything accumulates to the peak, but I am though if they don’t all hit me at once.”
“Brendan,” Amadeo spoke, his voice serious. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”
I grinned. “I realize that now and I cannot thank you enough. By the way, how did you find me?”
“I was on my way home from an appointment, and saw you walking down the street so I followed. I didn’t know what was happening, but when you turned the corner into the alleyway, it struck me as odd so I sped up to catch up to you to make sure everything was okay and alas, it wasn’t.”
“Until now,” I assured.
Amadeo smiled and looked at the watch I gave him for Christmas. “I think we still have some time left.”
“Time left for what?” I asked.
“You’ll see, but first could you excuse me? I have to use the restroom.”
I furrowed my eyebrows together as Amadeo left, thinking about what he wanted to do, but couldn’t come up with anything. I was more calm now, my thoughts and emotions collected once again as I looked outside to the city street and the rolling wheels of cars passing by. It felt great to be reprieved from the distress, but that didn’t mean my problems have magically disappeared; they were still there and I can see them floating above me, waiting for the next moment to strike. I just have to make sure that when it does, I’ll have some tactics of my own.
Amadeo came back and put on his winter jacket. “Ready to go?”
“Where are we headed?”
“I want to show you this place before calling it a day. I have a feeling you’ll like it a lot, but we really have to hurry.”
“Um...okay.”
The two of boarded the nearest subway and took it all the way to Broadview station. We then took a bus that led us to Riverdale Park, a rather capacious park spanning the lower Don River on the east end of the city between Cabbagetown and Broadview Ave. There was a field for soccer, baseball and Ultimate along with a swimming pool, tennis courts, and an outdoor hockey rink to the northeast. Finishing it was a running track in the center. Farther down, I could see the resemblance of a footbridge crossing the Don Valley Parkway, Bayview Avenue, railroad tracks and the river—a north-south bicycle trail running adjacent to it— connecting the two sides of the valley to each other. Upon getting out, my eyes widened at the sight. The entire skyline of Toronto was visible from here, sparkling like millions of fireflies, the CN Tower tallest of them all, glowing in exchanges of different colours from green to red to purple to blue.
“Well, what do you think?”
“It’s breathtaking,” I said, aghast. “I never knew a modernized city could be so ethereal.”
“It could when seen from the correct angles and perspective like this one, but believe it or not, the best is yet to come.”
I looked up at Amadeo, confused. His cheeks were pink from the cold and his eyes glimmered, reflecting the light from the city and the limited fluorescent light around us. It was then did I notice that quite a lot of people were here, some standing just like us with thin glow sticks wrapped around either their necks or wrists or both, others walking and a few sitting on mats on the cold ground.
“Amadeo?” a familiar voice called out and I turned to see Emmanuel, my eyebrows raised at the unexpected sight along with his.
Amadeo and I faced each other.
“It’s almost the beginning of the New Year. Make something right and begin with the easiest,” Amadeo whispered and looked at the two of us. “I have something I need to get, I’ll be a moment. Meanwhile, you two ought to finish off what you stared a few days and hours ago,” he trotted off before either of us could object.
I stood there with my hands in my pocket. Emmanuel still hadn’t changed his clothes from earlier today. Now that I was more calm and my thoughts more harmonious, I felt a bit guilty for the way I had treated him.
“Hi,” Emmanuel began the conversation.
“Hey,” I replied and decided to immediate dive into it. “Listen I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have lied to you or said the things I’ve said. I was wrong to do that.”
Emmanuel shook his head. “I’m equally as guilty. I shouldn’t have been too hard on you and should have tried to grasp the bigger picture that you were trying to establish. We both acted out of anger and impulse; it’s programmed within all of us.”
I flashed a grin. “So does that mean we’re okay?”
“When were we not?” Emmanuel smiled, his teeth a bright shade of white.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t answer that,” he warned and the two of us chuckled.
“I opened your present by the way,” I continued.
“Did you figure out where the frame was from?”
“No, but I know it’s identical to the one in your brother’s bedroom.”
“Very good observation,” Emmanuel walks over beside me and stares out into the cityscape, a smug look plastered on his face. Then it dawned n me.
“You did not...”
The smile on Emmanuel’s face widened. “I did so,” he said calmly.
“I can’t—”
“You can and you will. You’ve taught me something, Brendan. You taught me how to move on, that people go for reason, so others could come.”
“Daniel’s not entirely gone,” I corrected, feeling like a priest about to speak his homily. “God left you a guardian angel in his place.”
Emmanuel shakes his head and stuffs his hand into his pockets as well.”No, he didn’t. He’s left me you,” Emmanuel said and turned to me with a smile. I pursed my lips together, completely taken by surprised. I never knew I meant that much to anyone; it was a definite first, but before I could say anything, Amadeo arrives back with both his arms tied behind his back. I shot him a what-are-you-up-to look to which he shrugs, smiles and walks out of the way to reveal Evelyn in a biker jacket with jeans and matching dark grey boots, toque and scarf. Both Emmanuel and my mouth shaped themselves into an O.
“Way to welcome a friend,” she said to the both of us, frowning.
I turn to Amadeo, demanding an explanation. “My restroom visit at Second Cup. As for the reason, well, take a look,” Amadeo points behind me and I turned around.
Suddenly the entire park went into a unified uproar.
Five...
Four..
Three...
Two...
One!
The black sky was then set ablaze into a myriad of opalescent colours as fireworks of all different shapes and sizes shot upward and expanded into thin air—floral, heart shaped, palm tree, simple and complex flares—all exploding one after another. Above the city skyline, it looked magical. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Everyone around us was clapping and cheering; some even setting off their own. A little into the show, Evelyn walks up and links arm with me and Emmanuel, her head resting on my shoulder. Amadeo takes my other side and places an arm around me. It’s been such a long time since I’ve last seen fireworks. My mom use to take me as a kid, but as I grew up, I wanted to see it with someone else, a special friend, a significant other, someone, but never gotten the chance to. It’s a whole different feeling when you’re amongst family and when you’re amongst friends. You see the former all the time that there are days where everything you do—even the most exhilarating of things—becomes redundant. With the latter, it’s sort of like a breath of fresh air. Before I knew it, and to my insatiableness, the pyrotechnic show was over.
“Let’s take a picture,” Amadeo suggested and Evelyn takes out a camera to give to him. “Excuse me,” he called out to a random man in his mid forties and went over to ask. The man agreed and took the camera, walking a few steps close to us. Amadeo reprises his place beside me and the four of us huddled together.
“Okay smile now,” the man instructed. “One, two, three!” A flash popped up and a photo was taken. We then thanked the gentleman and took a look at the photo. It turned out really nice, the four of us linked together, beaming, just as we still were. I take a look at each person around me one by one—Emmanuel, Evelyn, Amadeo. My mom may have lied to me throughout my life, my step-mother may hate me and I may have lost a dad, but now, with the first few seconds ticking by of the New Year, I’ve found myself a new home with a recently acquired brother, someone whom I could be potentially falling for, and what could be the father figure I have sought after all my life.
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