Angry

Cambridge
Though it was still rather hot outside for a late September day, Charlie didn’t mind the temperature so much as long as they sat in the shade. Visiting the park in the spring or late fall was always more appealing—even the winter was generally better than the summer—but this was the best place for him to meet Stella without anyone of consequence taking note, so he waited on their park bench for her now, his thoughts darting back between the conversation he’d recently had with his father and the letter he’d sent to Mary Margaret a few weeks ago.
The last year and a half had been a whirlwind ever since Quincy introduced him to a new sort of social life he’d never experienced before. While part of him wanted to blame Quincy for being a bad influence, Charlie knew that his friend had only been the catalyst. A young man with money, influence, a new set of wheels, and eventually, alcohol, along with a few girls with coy smiles, and it didn’t take a scientist to know that things were bound to erupt. He was thankful that things had not gotten out of hand enough to embarrass his family or get him into serious trouble. His grades hadn’t even suffered, which was also remarkable.
Charlie had spent most of the summer out with his friends, rarely seeing his parents and not abiding by any sort of a curfew. Right before the fall semester started, his father asked to speak with him and reminded Charlie that he had a duty and a reputation to withhold. It was time to start taking things seriously again. It was time Charlie remembered that he and his father were both bound to a promise from many years ago.
At first, Charlie wanted to argue and tell his father he no longer wished to uphold the obligation. But the longer John spoke, the more Charlie began to remember what it felt like to be truly close to his father. He had looked up to him so immensely as a child. When his father pulled out a butterscotch and handed it to him, Charlie realized he needed to turn things around. He had renewed his promise to his father that day. He would marry Mary Margaret Westmoreland, just as his father had promised hers. He would concentrate on his studies again and stop wasting his time out with his friends.
Now, he just needed to convince two girls that this was the best course of action.
While it would be more difficult to get a feel for Mary Margaret’s convictions, he knew that Stella would certainly speak her mind. Though Charlie hadn’t been spending his time with her exclusively, and they certainly weren’t an item, he knew she had strong feelings for him, and he had for her as well. He had realized, however, even before his father reminded him that he was already spoken for, that Stella truly wasn’t the one for him. While he loved her daring spirit, he wanted a wife who was a bit more traditional, a bit more relaxed. Stella would make a very good wife to someone one day, but it wouldn’t be him.
“Sorry I’m running behind,” Stella said, breathing heavily as she sat down on the bench about a foot’s distance from him. “I had trouble getting out of the dorm.”
This happened fairly often considering how closely the girls at Radcliffe were watched, particularly in the daytime during the week, so Charlie just shrugged. “It’s all right. Gave me a few moments to collect my thoughts.”
“I haven’t seen much of you since school has been back in session. Is everything all right?” she asked, leaning a bit toward him.
He noticed her hair looked longer, as if it had grown over the summer and he hadn’t yet noticed. She had it down—a style she’d been wearing a lot lately, one his mother would never have approved of—and it flew about her face in brunette wisps with the breeze. “I’ve been attempting to concentrate on my studies.”
“I’m sure they’ve missed you,” she giggled, alluding to the fact that he certainly hadn’t spent much time studying in the most recent semesters. “Is everything all right, Charlie? You look… anxious.”
There was really no point in being elusive, so Charlie decided to just have at it. “I had a conversation with my father a few weeks ago, and it’s been weighing on my mind quite heavily lately.”
“Is he well?” she asked, clearly concerned.
“He’s fine,” Charlie assured her, watching her relax a bit. “Stella, we’ve spent a lot of time together over the last year, year and a half, and there’s something I want to make sure you are aware of. You see… I have a prior arrangement….”
“Mary Margaret Westmoreland?” Stella asked, sitting up straight, her hands folded in her lap.
Charlie looked at her, his eyes wide. “How did you know?”
“Everyone knows, don’t they?” she asked, shrugging. “I don’t think it is a secret, is it?”
“Well, no, I suppose not,” Charlie mumbled. “But I thought you must not be aware or else….”
“Charlie, just because you’re promised to some girl who lives an ocean away that you’ve never met doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy a bit of time with you, does it?” she asked, leaning back against the bench.
“So you’ve known all along?”
“Of course.”
“Well, why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“What was I supposed to say? How’s your soon-to-be fiancée? Oh, that’s right. You wouldn’t know because you’ve never met her. It’s all a bit of fluff, isn’t it, Charlie?”
Charlie could feel the heat rising in his face. He wasn’t sure if he was simply embarrassed or if she had actually offended him, but he was bound to find out. “No, it isn’t, Stella. It’s real. She’s real. Just because I haven’t met her doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist.”
“Funny, I remember saying the same thing about Saint Nicholas when I was three,” Stella muttered.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Charlie asked, turning to face her, his inner question answered.
“Nothing, only that I don’t believe that you will marry her, that’s all.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes, that’s all. And I’m not the only one, Charlie. Surely, you must know. Everyone thinks it’s a farce. Especially since her uncle has made quite a name for himself as nothing more than a dirty old man. The business is washed up, and so is her family, Charlie. Why in God’s green earth would your father honor a promise he made to a man that’s been dead these ten years to marry you into a family that isn’t anywhere near a proper match? It just doesn’t make any sense.”
Charlie had done his best to keep his temper under control, but the longer she spoke, the angrier he felt. “Stella, my father is a man of his word—and more importantly, so am I. I’ve promised Mary Margaret Westmoreland that we will marry someday, and I intend to keep that promise.”
Stella’s eyes grew wide, as if she couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I’ve never seen you so upset before, Charlie,” she managed after a moment.
“I’m not upset—I’m angry,” he replied, pounding his fist down on the bench on the side away from her.
They sat there in silence for a few moments. Charlie took deep breaths and tried to control his temper while Stella looked about in confusion. After a while she finally said, “Well, Charlie, why is it that you’ve brought me here today? You’ve been intended to Miss Westmoreland for a very long time. What’s different now?”
His response was slow and calculated, and he did not turn to look at her as he spoke. “I don’t think we should spend any more time in each other’s company.”
She was silent again for a very long time, and he could hear her breathing heavily, as she had when she’d first sat down. “I can’t believe you’re saying that, Charlie,” she finally managed to say.
“I’m sorry…”
“No, don’t,” she cut him off, spinning to face him. He turned to look at her for a moment but then looked away again. “I don’t want you to be sorry for my sake. You will be sorry—but only because you’ve made a horrible decision, Charles.”
She only used his given name when she was particularly upset, and he hated to hurt her like this. But given the revelations of their conversation, he was quite confident he was making the right choice. If she couldn’t understand the importance of upholding his word, of honoring his father’s wishes, then she certainly wasn’t the girl for him.
“I suppose I’ll see you around then,” Stella muttered as she stood.
He stood, too, as it was the polite thing to do, absently thinking he probably would not see her around as he intended to avoid any such event she might be present at, though he did see her on campus every so often. “Goodbye, Stella,” he said as she turned to walk away.
She didn’t respond, nor did she look back as she slowly made her way toward the edge of the park and back to Radcliff. In all of the time they’d spent together, he’d seen the gamut of emotions from elation to anger. This was the first time he could ever remember seeing her so crestfallen. He truly hoped that, in a day or two, she would recover and be back to her happy-go-lucky self, and while he hated being the cause of such lamentation, he knew he had done the right thing.
Now, he only had to prove her wrong, prove everyone wrong it seemed, and actually marry Mary Margaret. Of course, it would be easier to do so if he actually had the opportunity to meet her first. He anxiously awaited her response, hopeful that she would agree to find a way to visit or at the very least consent to him traveling to Southampton on his next holiday. Seeing her face would put aside all question of whether or not she really did exist, and he had to admit that he had even begun to wonder about that himself.