A week, that was all it took for my mother and my aunts to revive the Presentation. They breathed life into the arena like it was nothing and suddenly the rundown, unused arena had become a stadium of greatness.
They erected colorful banners, ordered the fanciest chairs and benches and tapestries. Crumbling pillars were built back up, statues of great Werewolves were carved out of stone and large braziers were brought in to light up the event.
It was all done quickly but beautifully, and through all this, my mother stared me down.
“You’re doing this for your brother. I get that. I respect that.” She says, deducing what had happened between us easily. “You’re trying to cover up his failed wedding with an event that everyone has been missing after your father shut it down, and you’re wi
