Chapter Two - The Cullen Heir

“Doctors are men who prescribe medicines of which they know little, to cure diseases of which they know less, in human beings of whom they know nothing.” ~Voltaire

Chapter Two: The Cullen Heir

“I have to go home, man. Esme has some big bon voyage dinner planned for me. Like I’m the first person to go to college… Christ I feel so smothered by her sometimes.” I really didn’t want to go home to some huge send-off dinner. What I’d rather do is spend some time hanging out with my friends. It didn’t matter that they were going to college with me, or that we were all rooming together. What mattered was that this was where I wanted to be, not spending time with Esme hovering and Carlisle glowering.

“So skip out. What’s the worst that can happen? So you’ll get another ‘lecture’ from Carlisle, but so what. Live your life.” Emmett was always so free-wheeling. He didn’t have a fucking care in the world. Sometimes it irritated the hell out of me.

“Yeah, right. That’s the last thing I want to deal with before we leave tomorrow. Brilliant plan, asshole.” Even though it did seem like a much better plan than leaving.

“Awww, come on Eddie. Look at it this way, you take the lecture now and you won’t have to talk to him for months. It’s not like he can drive to school every day just to piss you off.” He really was an annoying dick. I sometimes wondered why in the hell he was my friend.

“First of all, my name is Edward, not Eddie. Remember it, dick. Secondly, you aren’t the one that’s going to have to face Carlisle’s wrath. He’s already pretty pissed off that I don’t want to be a doctor and save the world. ‘I had always planned for my son to follow in my footsteps. You’re entire life has been planned on you becoming a doctor and joining me at the hospital.’ Doesn’t matter to him that being a doctor isn’t what I want to do.” This wasn’t a new argument. It was one we’d been having frequently over the past year and a half.

“Haven’t you ever found it ironic that as a doctor, Carlisle has never noticed the emptiness you feel when he pressures you about medical school? Shouldn’t he be familiar with the signs of depression, angst, and disconnection you feel at home?” Leave it to Jasper to get down to the bottom of it in analytical terms.

“You would think,” I sneered. “He’ll probably corner me again anyway, just to make sure I understand the importance of honoring the family tradition and blah, blah, blah. After all, I am the heir to the Cullen legacy.” The McCarty’s and the Whitlock’s were also well known Chicago families, and Emmett and Jasper faced the same parental expectations that I did. The only difference was that Emmett wanted to go into the family business. Jasper was like-wise with becoming a psychiatrist. They didn’t have the same pressures at home or the fear of making their parents ashamed.

“Well, since you’re more than likely to have that discussion at least one more time before you leave tomorrow, no matter what the circumstances, why not stick around.” That decided it for me. Carlisle could kiss my ass. I was hanging out with my friends, tossing back a few beers, and watching the damn game. Dinner could wait.

I slowly made my way back to our home in the Gold Coast area of Near North Side, Chicago. I felt better, slightly. Shooting the shit with the guys was always a good way to chase away the fog. The tension at home was nearly unbearable these days. Esme tried her hardest to smooth things over by hovering. She had packed my belongings, arranged for shipping of everything she deemed necessary, prepared my carry-on and luggage for the plane trip, and was now trying to calm me with a home-cooked meal. Sometimes I felt bad for avoiding her or ignoring her. Not nearly as much lately as I had many months ago. She knew I didn’t want to be a doctor, she knew my passion was music. But that never stopped her from allowing Carlisle to pressure me and corner me constantly. It never stopped her from sitting by idly while I was berated and bullied by the man that was supposed to be my father. It made it clear to me that I was not very high on her list. Honoring her husband and making him happy seemed much more important to her. No, Esme didn’t deserve my graciousness or forgiveness.

As for Carlisle, I didn’t care about him anymore either. Societal standing was all he had cared about, ever. Esme was a beautiful arm-piece for him and he expected me to be an obedient and loyal son. Something I had absolutely no interest in being. Instead of being an individual, I was expected to quietly follow in my father’s footsteps as he had followed his father, and so on down the Cullen line. In the medical field, the Cullen name was spoken with reverence, and that gave Carlisle much pleasure. He enjoyed being somewhat of a celebrity, in his own right. His name was known worldwide, and he had planned for his only son and heir to be right there with him. Fuck that.

“I see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.” I had hoped on sneaking in the house and avoiding a big scene, but it seems Carlisle had other plans.

“Did I miss an appointment, Father?” I spat the word out like an obscenity, hoping he would catch the derision and hatred in those two syllables.

“Your mother planned a family meal for us this evening. One that I am positive you were aware of. Not to mention, one that I cleared my busy schedule for, at her request.” I guess I should have felt privileged, or honored. Instead I laughed.

“I guess that told me. Forgive me, I didn’t feel like putting on the pretenses of a loving and caring family, even if it was for only one night.”

“You should learn to respect your elders, son. It would do you good in medical school. The Cullen name alone will not overshadow your poor manners.”

“My poor manners? What have you ever cared about my manners, much less my life?”

“I care very much about your life, Edward. There is nothing I want more than for you to succeed and graduate at the top of your class.”

“So I can follow your dream.”

“I refuse to have this argument with you again. The subject is closed.”

“So you figure you can just say that, and my future will be set in stone. You seem to have forgotten free will.” Free will was a phrase tossed around in my house regularly. Just as familial obligations, tradition, and succession were. It was really very tiresome.

“I figure that as the person paying for your tuition I have a great deal of say-so in your education. Try that one on for size.” With that he sailed out of the room.

Money was held like an axe over my head. I didn’t come into my inheritance until my 21^st birthday, which unfortunately wasn’t for a couple more years. I had only turned 19 this June, right after graduation. Sometimes I wondered if the inheritances were set up that way intentionally. How else could a parent force your hand more effectively than limiting your options until nearly half of your education was already complete? By then, the University of Chicago Medical Center would already be preparing for the addition of another Cullen. Carlisle had already decided that I would get my medical degree from Dartmouth and then complete my residency with him in Chicago.

I stalked up to my room, hoping to just escape into sleep. Only fourteen more hours until my flight. I ticked the seconds off in my mind, willing them to hurry. I barely contained my growl of frustration when I found Esme once again going through my room, trying to make sure everything was set.

“Esme? Is there something I can help you with? If not, I’d really just like to get some sleep before tomorrow.” I sincerely hoped she’d go. My patience with my parents was running thin at the moment.

“Oh Edward.” She came running at me and threw her arms around my neck. “I was so worried when you didn’t show up for dinner.” She was checking over me, like you would a small child, for any bumps or bruises. “I tried calling your cell phone, but I couldn’t get in touch with you. I’m so happy you’re alright.” I had purposely shut my phone off because I didn’t want to talk to them. I didn’t want to be bothered. I just wanted to live my life, damnit!

“As you can see, I’m fine. Now if you’re done, I’d really like to get some rest.” I knew I was terse, but I didn’t feel like dealing with her motherly theatrics at the moment.

“Of course, baby. Are you hungry? I can heat something up for you and bring a plate before you go to sleep.” She was still hovering. In my mind, I knew she was already suffering from “empty nest syndrome” but I couldn’t dredge up enough energy to care. Instead, I rolled my eyes at her.

“No. I ate already. I just want you to go so I can sleep.” I figured maybe if I gave short, curt answers she’d leave sooner. She looked slightly taken aback at my tone, and hurt flashed in her eyes briefly before it was gone again.

“Okay, dear. If that’s what you want. Please remember to be dressed and ready for church in the morning.” She walked over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I’d like to go to church with my baby one last time. Good night, dear.”

I didn’t want to go to church. I didn’t want to act like we were the happy family attending Sunday Mass at Old St. Pat’s, but I knew I wouldn’t get out of it after skipping dinner tonight. So I’d go to church with my parents, pretend once more to be the typical American family, fulfill that last obligation and then be on my way to school. It was expected to be seen at Mass on Sundays, after all. That’s what respectable Irish-American families did, and Carlisle would have no less than being seen as respectable and moral. Any less would be seen as a blemish on the family name and honor. Cullens were Irish-American Catholic doctors and that was final. I shook my head at the absurdity of it all.

Knowing there was no way I was going to be able to sleep just yet, I made my way down to the music room. This was the only other room in the house that felt like mine. Sure, I made good use of the library, but that was my father’s domain. When Carlisle wanted to relax, he would pour himself a glass of port, sit back, and read a book. If I wanted to avoid him, I had to find somewhere else to occupy my time. As a child, I had taken to the piano like a prodigy, so my place was wherever my piano was. The only thing I wasn’t looking forward to about going away to college was leaving behind my Steinway. I had grown amazingly attached to it, which was ironic considering how much I had hated lessons initially. But it was the only acceptable instrument for a Cullen male to play, so I was enrolled at the tender age of three. Now, I played for pleasure. I even wrote music, but that went undetected, or unnoticed, by either of my parents.

I sat down and ran my fingers over the keys. Yes, I would miss my piano. Slowly I began to play, letting the music wash over me, calming the savage beast inside that roared in agonized fury. This was what I wanted to be doing, where I belonged. Music was what I had dreamed of my entire life. I started slowly, with Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. It was dreary and somewhat dark, perfectly matching my mood. That flowed directly into Love Story, which was both tragic and moving. Those compositions were two of my favorites by Beethoven. From there I moved on to Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture, reveling in the drama the music created. Chopin’s Nocturne for Violin and Piano flowed out of my soul and through my fingers, caressing my skin like a lover’s touch. Here, in this room, with my piano was the only place I felt at peace. Not whole, there was something else I was missing in my life, but at least here I felt content. Lastly, I played Clair de Lune. Debussy was my favorite composer, by far. Each piece had the ability to tap into such a wide variety of emotions. Sadness, grief, joy, hope, and so many more were all at my mercy when I played.

After what must have been hours, I was finally calm. Calm enough at least to rest before the curtains went up tomorrow. I would go to church, please my parents, and get on my flight. But even the idea of being miles away from my parents didn’t seem to ease my spirit. For even at Dartmouth I would be under Carlisle’s thumb. I would have to leave behind my love, my music, and I would be forced to endure. My dreams were shattered and my heart was grieving, but I would survive. That was, after all, what was expected of me. What was projected for me. What was anticipated of me. I couldn’t escape it, the one thing that was going to make my life a living hell. Dartmouth was going to be my very own stylish and prestigious prison. Sentencing began once I stepped foot on campus. It seemed unfair that my only crime was being the Cullen heir.