“I have this project I have to do, where I have to interview one of the family members.”
“Oh, you should ask Aunt Bridgette. I’m sure she’d have a lot to say,” answered Frank, face still in the paper.
“Yeah, the teacher said I had to write a report on you.” Finally, putting his paper down revealing his arm sling and bruised face.
“Me?! Why the hell would they do that to you?!” Blake shrugged behind the camera.
“And it’s gotta be on film?” Frank asked, eyeing the camera suspiciously, conscious of his injuries.
“I think it would be fun.”
“Oh, um, okay. What do you want to know?”
“What is the most important lesson you have ever learned?” Frank took in the question, and smiled slightly.
“Don’t be afraid to be yourself. The people who love you, will love you regardless. And the people who don’t? Well, they can kiss my you-know-what.” Blake started to laugh behind the camera.
“In all seriousness? The biggest lesson I have ever learned is that this life is too short not to cherish every minute. You stand up for what you believe in, you protect those who cannot stand up for themselves, and you love life. You only get one, kid, and I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’ve had a pretty good one so far.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything else?
“No. I think that will about do it.”
As the screen went black, Blake said nothing more, confident that his presentation did all the talking for him. Frank followed behind him, face still red from laughing.
“All right. Only one left to go. Nice job, everyone. We’ll pick up in a minute.”
Mrs. Mitchell picked up her grade book and marked down the grades of her students thus far. Cole had received an A for his heartfelt tribute to his departed mother. Tommy and Shane both received an A-for their entertaining presentations, and she just marked Blake down for an A+ for innovation and creativity.
“Tristan, if you’re ready…”
Tristan calmly rose from her seat, quietly making her way down the center aisle with a stack of index cards and a single VHS tape.
“Good morning, everyone. My name is Tristan Morrow, and I will be discussing the life and achievements of my mother, Catherine Morrow.” The auditorium went completely quiet. Everybody knew the names. The adults recognized Catherine’s name from a highly publicized criminal case, and everyone recognized Tristan’s name thanks to Joe Piedmonte’s brilliant sign placement.
She had no props, no flashy poster boards, and she definitely didn’t have any jokes to tell. She stood at the project screen, dressed in a muted heather gray sweater, and black slacks. Her long curls pinned away in a sleek chignon. She looked like Catherine on the stage. Even Jack did a double take.
“Two weeks ago, I knew nothing at all about my mother, other than the fact that she wasn’t around. Due to a series of events that I would rather not discuss, I learned the truth about my mother. I learned that the rumors that flew around town about her were utterly false. Forget what you know. This is the Catherine you should be remembering.”
Mrs. Mitchell pushed play on the VCR as home videos began flashing across the screen. Birthdays, celebrations, Christmases, smiling faces; Catherine surrounded by children, Catherine dancing with Jack on the porch in the summertime. A happy life.