Just a few minutes past midnight on a cold night of December 13th, Joel was born into the Felling family. For ages, they had been trying for a son; who, after all, will take charge of the family business with James III nearing his weary end. The family celebrated, the entire town rejoiced, for the Felling family finally had a boy. To take the name forward, in whose aura the family’s glory would be shone.
Joel grew up fast. In his initial years, he had a slender frame, delicate eyes and gentle touch for everything that came his way. He would ride his bike all around the house gardens, play with balloons every Sunday and play with paints till his arms were coated in shades only he knew he touched. Most little ones would groan at the thought of going to school. Joel was special. He was eager every morning to reach the grounds. Play some football, learn some literature and work on his handwriting skills – after all, Father James always said a signature is nothing if not perfected!
As he grew, so did his social life. He would attend classes after school. Swimming lessons, sparring lessons, horse-riding and some gourmet experiences too. All these, in an effort to make him the perfect man. The man that any woman would want, would do anything for. The man that would take the Felling name to heights.
Joel slowly realised that there is an unshakeable responsibility over him. The responsibility to be the man of the family at some point. The Felling family was a ruthless one. Men for Women and Women for Men. There was no other way. Any other way, was a sin to be punished only by banishment; from the family, from the wealth, from the legacy.
For his fourteenth birthday, Joel asked to be able to hold a party in his home. There was joy, merrymaking, trays of food being handed out, drinks pouring like rivers and melodies to grace the evening. Keenan was there too. Joel’s best-friend, his confidant. Keenan and Joel grew up studying in the same school. They would attend the same classes after school, and spend a lot of time bonding over Shakespeare and Van Gogh.
It wasn’t until the wee hours of the night that Mother Felling ran up the stairs to look for Joel after everyone left; worried that her son had drunk himself into a coma. Flinging the doors open was a mistake, the sight was unbearable for her. Two boys, warm together, cozy by the fireplace, in their own little heaven. She was furious, as the boys wrapped themselves up in blankets from all over the place; warning her son of being banished if anyone else had found out.
A strict lesson was due.
Joel was made to attend private lessons for every activity, home-schooled for the balance of his teenhood. Made ready for college by a few professors, but the best of them. Hiding in his closet all the while, pretending to have been ‘cured’ of the ‘disease’ he had inflicted upon himself.
Nights were the hardest. He would have to wallow in himself, no one to comfort him. The thought of losing out on one slice of heaven he had found, to unburden himself of all the responsibilities that were pushed upon him. Praying to god on a daily basis, begging; for freedom, for peace, for love, for acceptance.
Years passed on, and Joel was now ready for college. University, where he would be taught about business, about economics, about entrepreneurship and leadership. It was December 14th, a day after his birthday. Parties until now had been somber, since his fourteenth. Family celebrations, close-knit, no outsiders allowed.
He wore his hat, carried his bag, and was driven to the port for his chugging train that would take him from little Bristol right into the heart of London, ready for a life of freedom. While on his way, he thought ‘Now is my time, clearly money cannot do everything. I will find love, I will find peace, I will find acceptance now.’
Written By Anisha Masand
Part 2 of the story on 16th Oct ’20.
Week 41, October ’20
