Chapter 2

EPOV

"Junior, have you put in your application sent out to Harvard yet? I can get you a guaranteed acceptance, but you STILL have to send in your paperwork before we can make this happen for you." My father spoke to me, but he didn't even glance away from the newspaper he held in his hands as he sipped his morning coffee. How typical of Senior to not even make eye contact in a conversation with someone he deemed undeserving of his attentions.

I wrung my hands in my lap, staring intently at the weave of our four hundred dollar table cloth. I went over what I wanted to say in my mind one last time before the verbal diareha began.

"Um, Father? I was actually kind of hoping to discuss it with you before I sent them in. I have been thinking of auditioning at Juliard. I really love music, and it would put all those lessons paid for over the years to good use. If I don't get in, then I can always send my Harvard application in then, and..." My words dried up in my throat as my father slammed his newspaper to the table, and actually looked at me with such venemous distain that I imagined he would remove the half of my genetics by force with nothing more than a look. Seriously, if looks could kill, I would have been fossilized in the bottom most sediment layer at the base of Mount Everest.

"First of all, it was your Mother, not I, who insisted on you taking up such a ridiculous pass time as MUSIC." He spat the word out as though it were the most disgusting word he had ever come across. 'Second, your future is already mapped out for you my boy. Harvard Business for your MBA, then you and Jessica will be married and you shall take your place in Masen Industries as our youngest executive, being groomed to take over my position as Chairman of the Board and CEO when I decide to vacate the seats. THAT is your future. Not MUSIC, so just you get that utterly preposterous notion out of your musical little mind." with that, he shoved himself away from the table, stood, and walked straight into his study, slamming the door to his study as he went.

I remained seating where I was, staring at the table as if willing myself to disappear in a puff of smoke, or crumble into a pile of sand. I struggled with the tears that threatened to brim over, and almost suceeded, until I felt one lone drop crest my eyelid, and begin it's solitary decent on my cheek. I quickly brought my hand up and wiped it away before Father could come back out and see it. Which would launch another long drawn out lecture about how, "Real men don't show weakness, and weakness is all crying is. Remember, you are the last male desendant of the Masen line, a name that demands great respect and power. And you know what they say, with great power comes great responsibility." I always wanted to point out to my father at that point of his lecture that how could I take him seriously when he unwittingly starts quoting Spiderman.

"Oh Edward, darling. Don't listen to your father. He doesn't mean what he's saying. It's not you that he's angry with, it's..." My mother automatically jumped up and put her arms around me, trying to comfort me, but I shook her off. No amount of codling would erase the fact that I had no say in my life.

"No, Mother. Father is right. It's high time I start my responsibility as a man, and as a Masen." With that I rushed to my room to pick up the completed application to Harvard Business which sat neatly on my desk beside my invitation to audition at Juliard. I felt a part of me die as I picked up the heavy envelope which had housed all of my dreams not half an hour before, and surruptitiously dropped it into the trashcan seated next to my desk. Before I could loose my nerve or become more emotional, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, not daring to look back least I turn into a pillar of salt, (or salt water as it were) at the sight of my illustrious invite in the waste bin. I took the cursed application straight to my father's office, where I handed my father the application.

"You're right, Father, sir. Please forgive me for my momentary lapse in judgement," I bit my tongue to keep myself from blurting out how the moment still hadn't passed, and I wanted more than anything else to be going to Juliard not Harvard. "Consider Juliard forgotten, sir." I said, letting out a breath.

"Good. I'll hand it to my friend, Caius, when I go golfing with him tomorrow. Let's forget this whole ridiculous notion of Juliard ever happened." I nodded without looking at my father, then turned away and walked out of his office before I could gather the courage or strength to recant.

Without even a glance back, I pulled the keys to my C70 convertable out of my pocket as I strode out of the door. I hopped into the sleek silver coupe, lowered the roof, then took off down the road.

About half an hour later, I pulled up to what looked like a dead end road, backed up to a forrest trail. I knew that just a little ways into the forrest, and just off the trail, stood a magnificent meadow.

I walked into the meadow from the road, letting the tranquil atmosphere seep into the fiber of my very being. I focussed on the greens of the grass, and the plethora of wild flowers growing in every color imaginable. Blues and pinks and purples and yellows. I walked over to my favorite spot, the sizable tree seated right next to the icy stream that wound it's way through the peaceful meadow. I dipped my hands into it's crystal clear waters, and brought the water to my face, taking a deep draught before pouring the frigid water over my face and head, rubbing it into my neck. This was my safe haven, the one place where I could be myself. MY meadow