To my Dearest Friend

Headache

a few days later

I wake up with the worst headache I've ever had. I've never organised a party this quickly, it took us two days to get everything ready. I must say I regret not writing cyril in four days, two for organisation and two for the actual party. I remember a lot if you look how much I had to drink. I want to put on my rob when I realise I'm still wearing my white tie from yesterday. I look at the bed honestly expecting Cyril to lay there, I know he isn't here. I grab the paper one or the maids put on my dresser. I Smile. 'The young Montague throws the party of the century.' I read it. Most of the things they said about me are positive although they seem to be envious of the money I can afford to spent on something so unimportant. I look at my widow and light my cigarette. What a hypocrite I am. I could have used my money to help people. Wat do I use it for? to impersonate Cyril's most prominent trait. He has always been ostentatious, I never was. I chuckle. Perhaps I am but I'm too arrogant to admit it. Not much later one of our maids alerts me that my carriage is ready. As we're driving I realise they took the wrong turn, they're not bringing me to the London residence. I sigh, my father wants to see me.

I open the door of my father's study. Every time I walk into this room I feel like a little boy again. Scared of being hurt, scared of not being good enough. 'What is this?' he ask. putting down the paper. 'I suppose it's a paper father.' He turns around. The stormy clouds I can see through the massive windows behind him reflect his mood. 'you know what I mean Yves.' 'I was looking for bachelors my dear father. I thought you would be pleased?' I say with a smirk. He begins to walk towards me, I can already see the familiar anger he unleashed so many times. I feel my chin lift itself, when he becomes angry, I become arrogant. It's my way of trying not to feel as if I did something wrong. He begins to talk again 'you and your stupid little college friend thought it was a good idea to invite anybody who means anything? You realise half of those people are not respectable, we don't fraternise with the Boheme! we are chic, we are not well to do alcoholics who never worked for a cent' 'That's exactely what we are Father!' I yell 'I've never seen you handle a machine, you never worked in our factories. You never get your hands dirty. You don't even tie your shoes my yourself. You're no different than a rich child with too many much knowledge. As I am! But I don't pretend to be any different! And you are supposed to lead this country. You are nothing more than a fool with too much power.' I feel my back hit the dresser cabinet. 'You will not disrespect me in this way.'  'Try me dear father.' 'I raised you to listen Yves Aubrey Benedict Montague. not to cause trouble. You shall not be a disgrace to my family' 'As if you aren't already.' He lifts his hand, I smile and lean closer although my back is still against the cabinet 'Yes, you heard me right, you are a coward and a disgrace. Only a coward would lay a hand upon a child, only a coward would see his son as competition, only a disgrace would have the twisted idea his son is there to replace him. You should never have gotten children, or heirs, you don't deserve them.' I feel a sharp pain as his fist hits my cheekbone. I taste the familiar metal of blood, a droplet falls unto my good shirt. I look up and at that moment I realise I should've looked down.