Chapter 10: Chapter 4

“Thanks for getting me those snacks for that fraternity party last night, grandma,” I sincerely thanked my grandma as I sat at her round dining table.

“Of course dear, anything for my grandson,” she said so sweetly and set a plate of bacon and eggs before me. “How did it go?”

“Not the best, honestly.”

“Why’s that?”

“They were real partiers than what I thought they’d be. It wasn’t professional or mature like I wanted them to be.”

“They’re still teenagers at heart,” she chuckled and took a seat right across from me. “Just because you turn eighteen and the government deems you an adult doesn’t mean that you’re actually an adult. Those kids are starting to see what the real world is like, and especially get to make their own decisions without their parent’s say,” she said and winked at me. I frowned, knowing what exactly she was implying. 

“I don’t think they’re going to let me in the fraternity.”

“Why? You fit their requirements from that application you told me about!” 

“I left the party after the two leaders told me to have fun and meet everyone so they could make a decision on me. The party was like, a final impression or something for them.”

“Oh goodness Cameron,” my grandma grumbled as she ate her scrambled eggs. “You know you won’t get in trouble for associating yourself with partiers.”

“I just -”

“You’re responsible for yourself and only yourself, you can make your own decisions.”

“That wasn’t it, I just didn’t feel like I fit in with them.”

“I’m sure that’s what it was,” my grandma rolled her eyes and drank some coffee she brewed hours ago. “I swear to god I will talk to your mother about how she -”

“Don’t, grandma!” I pleaded and slammed my fork onto my plate. “Please, don’t even reach out to her, she doesn’t even know that I’m seeing you.”

“I’m so disappointed in her,” she whispered and took another bite of her breakfast.

I clenched my left hand under the table.

“Actually, I want to talk to you about something,” I attempted to change subjects with my grandma before the conversation turned into a family argument we had years ago. “My studio art final is due at the end of the semester and I need to start working on it here soon. I have to make a portfolio of six art pieces that all have the same meaning of some sort to them. Have any ideas on what I could do?”

“Well the paintings you’ve done so far look fantastic. I have that one that you’ve done of my house still hanging above my bed,” she responded with a bright smile. 

“Sadly I can’t recycle old works, it could possibly get me in trouble with plagiarism… Anyways, my professor said he wants me to create some kind of story to be told between these six pieces and you know me…”

“What do you mean?”

“Ugh,” I sighed as it spilled out of me. “My professor says my paintings currently have no meaning to them, no story that can be seen by the viewer. They’re plain, or what he wants to say is meaningless but dances around actually telling me that. In order for me to pass the class my final needs to tell a narrative of some kind that’s unique to me as a person, and for me that’s hard because I’m not really interesting or special is what it seems…”

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“Let me have a word with this teacher of yours and I’ll get him to change his mind about your artwork. I think your art is fabulous, and it does have meaning and personality!”

“No, that’s not really the issue grandma.”

“Sounds like it is. What did you just tell me? This professor is rude and needs to be put into his place. No one insults my grandson like that!”

“No, I just… I’ll do what he wants. I just need help thinking of something to do for it. If you have any ideas on what could be interesting to paint or create for this final?”

“Oh goodness,” my grandma exhaled and rubbed her temples. “I wouldn’t know what makes you stand out from others dear… The last time I was allowed to see you, you were seven years old and the shyest grandson ever. I tried to get you to do things but it was hard to get you to open up and have fun…”

I looked down at my plate as she spoke. I remembered those times and how hard it was on me. 

“I do remember though you had a movie you’d bring over every time and play on repeat while you played with your toys.”

I smiled and laughed.

“Aladdin.”

“That was the one. You always had a love for that movie, and that’s what I remembered about you.” My grandma stood up abruptly and began walking out of the kitchen. “Give me one moment.”

I listened from the kitchen as she opened her basement door and headed down those old steps that creaked under each step. Then under the floorboards I sat upon, I listened to her rummaging through her storage room. It took a couple of minutes before she came back up the stairs with a dusty box in her arms. She set the box down beside me and smiled.

“I saved this for you.” 

I stood up and opened the box, seeing a bunch of things way back from my childhood. I had an Aladdin costume on the top of the box, along with a photo album, farm animal toys, and then a box wrapped in old faded wrapping paper. My eyebrow arched as I grabbed the wrapped box.

“Your mother cut me off right at your eighth birthday party. I had gone out and looked everywhere for this gift to give you, but she pushed me away from you and I could never get this to you. I tried many times mailing it to your home and she always returned it. Somedays, I feared it would be thrown away, but it always came back… I kept it just in case I could see you again.” My grandma gently laid her hand on my arm and smiled. “Open it, please.”

I tore the wrapping paper. It was so smooth to open given how old the paper was. Underneath was a worn cardboard box. I opened the tape up and found packing peanuts inside. I reach my hand in and touch something cold and smooth. I grasp it and pull out a vintage oil lamp. I laugh lightly as I look at the lamp. 

“I went thrifting and shopping everywhere I could until I stumbled upon some Indian based shop out of town and found that wonderful lamp. It looked like the one from that movie you liked.”

“Wow, grandma…” I said in awe as I looked at the faded bronze metal. It was simple but well crafted. The weight was fairly heavy too. 

“The lady back at that shop when I had bought it had told me that someone donated it to their shop, someone from India. It’s very much true to its origins, at least I would hope so.”

“That’s really cool grandma. Thank you so much for holding onto this for me…” I set the lamp down on the table and took a deep breath. I felt overwhelmed and didn’t want to show it. 

“Anything for you Cameron. Now, let’s finish breakfast and go shopping.”

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