The next few weeks settled into a pattern and easily blurred together. Emma would get up in the mornings and go to school after which she would show up at City hall and clean. Once the building had been put right Emma then spent her afternoons in the Mayor's outer office. She answered the phone and put files away and read through boring paper work to make sure it was being sent to the right place. After work the Mayor always drove her home in silence. On the weekends Emma would spend her entire days at City hall. Even Sundays when the only other person who showed up was the Mayor, who would disappear into her office leaving Emma to sit bored out of her mind in the outer office.

The weeks passed so blurrily that when Emma woke up on her eighteenth birthday she had completely forgotten about its significance until she went downstairs only to have her mother throw confetti in her face and shout.

"Happy eighteenth birthday!"

On the table was a very large box wrapped in white and silver paper with a large manila envelope on top with a bow stuck to it. Mary Margret pulled Emma into a quick heartfelt hug before she tossed pink confetti in the air. Emma stared at her mother shocked as the confetti settled around her and in her hair.

"I know we have had a tough couple years but these last few weeks have been better. You haven't skipped a single class, you have been working diligently at City hall, and you have even stopped sneaking out at night. I just want you to know how proud I am and that your efforts at being more responsible haven't gone unnoticed."

Mary Margret ushered Emma over to the table and gestured madly at the presents on the table.

Curious about the box Emma moved the envelope and tore at the wrapping paper. Underneath was an unassuming wooden case. Emma ran her hands over the varnished surface before moving her hands towards the clasps. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Emma undid the clasps and holding her breath she opened the case.

There inside resting on soft emerald velvet was an acoustic guitar. Not just any guitar but a custom made guitar. Emma knew from the moment she saw the case that it was Marco's, the old wood-worker's, craftsmanship. That alone made the present priceless but what truly took Emma's breath away and brought tears to her eyes was the inscription on the body of the guitar. It was only one word but that single word made the guitar her singularly most prized procession she would ever own.

The word carved into the guitar was: Swan. Swan was her father's nickname for Emma. Seeing the old nickname made her think back to the first time her father had referred to her after the majestic bird.


Emma glared at the book of sheet music in front of her. It was a beginner's guide for the guitar, which she had been learning for the last few months. For her 10th birthday Emma's father, David, had presented her with an old beat up guitar that he had found at a garage sale. At first Emma had wrinkled her nose at the present but her father just laughed. "The guitar isn't the present Emma, the guitar lessons I plan on giving you are." He had told her.

Emma hadn't been very impressed at first but soon after the first lesson Emma found herself drawn to the lessons. Now a few months later Emma's ability with the guitar surpassed her fathers. Emma had taken to music with certain zeal. When she played she was always filled with a sense of freedom and she spent hours playing when she could.

Right now however Emma was glaring in frustration at the sheet music in front of her before picking up a loose sheet on the bed next to her. Emma was working on her own song but it was driving her insane she just couldn't get the notes to flow right, and it was absolutely maddening. She had taken to studying her practice sheet music trying to find what it was she was missing.

A knock sounded at her door pulling her attention away from the music.

"Come in, Dad!" Emma called. She knew it was her father because her mother never knocked, no matter how many times she asked her to.

"Hey, Em how's it going?"

Emma groaned in response and fell back onto her bed.

"Not well, huh?"

David moved further into the room and sat on the bed next to his daughter.

"What's wrong?"

"I just can't get it right!" Emma growled in frustration.

"Hmm…Would you mind playing it for me?"

Emma reluctantly stood up and grabbed her guitar that was standing against the wall. She didn't bother sitting back on the bed or even looking at the sheet music. Emma knew the notes by heart after spending so much time staring at them. Soon a slow and slightly mournful song was plucked out of the guitar strings. When Emma got to the pace where the notes just ended on the sheet, instead of stopping she kept playing. Now that the music was surrounding her she found it was easier to work out what it was she wanted.

After Emma finished she set the guitar back down and looked hesitantly at her father who was staring at her in wonder.

"That was amazing."

"It's a little rough I need to work on it more…"

"No, not at all it is absolutely perfect. You are going to be the next Beethoven or Mozart."

"Dad, now you're really exaggerating."

"Am not. You were majestic as was your song…You were a Swan."

"A swan?"

"Yup, a swan. When you play, you have more grace than I have ever seen you exhibit, it's shocking really but you my darling daughter are my little Swan."

"You're a weirdo."

David just laughed at her with an adoring smile on his face.


After that he continuously referred to her as his little Swan to tease her at first then he began using it when bragging about her skills to his friends and coworkers. It didn't take long for the nickname to grow on Emma but after her father's accident Emma refused to let anyone call her Swan. The one time her mother tried after the accident Emma had exploded at her and surprisingly Mary Margret never tried using the nickname again.

Seeing her old nickname on the guitar meant more to Emma than she could ever possibly convey. Wordlessly she wrapped her mother in a hug, the first one in years. Mary Margret was startled but soon she lovingly returned the embrace.

Emma wasn't use to the touchy-feely stuff and released her mother quickly. She turned her attention to the instrument and studied it more carefully. It was absolutely perfect and Emma was suffering from conflicting emotions. She wanted nothing more than to pick it up and play it however she felt that touching it and getting her fingerprints all over it was blasphemes.

"It's perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Mary Margret laughed in delight at the obvious awe her daughter showered on the guitar.

"Are you going to open your other present?"

"I don't need anything else, this is perfect."

"You've said that. Come on Emma open the other one."

Emma picked up the envelope from where she placed it and tore it open with none of the reverence she had with the guitar. Inside was a packet of papers, the first page was a letter addressed to Emma. The first line read: Congratulations, Emma Nolan on your acceptance to Plymouth State University.

Emma didn't read the rest of it. Even if she wanted to Emma didn't think she could. Everything had turned red and the only thing she knew for a fact was that she was angry.

In a deadly calm voice Emma addressed her mother. All her early happiness forgotten.

"I never applied to Plymouth State. I haven't applied to any college, so why did they send me an acceptance letter?"

"I sent an application in for you. The last few years have been rough on you Emma but I didn't want you to miss out on early acceptance. I sent a couple more applications in but I haven't heard back from any other school yet. Later in the year we can sit down and apply to a few more if you don't get into a school you like. I put you down as undecided since you know you've been accepted to at least one school you can spend your senior year figuring out what you want to major in instead of where you plan to go."

The smile on Mary Margret's face told Emma that her mother didn't realize just how wrong her actions were. Emma opened her mouth; she didn't know what she was going to say. Hell, she didn't know if she was going to yell or not, but before a single syllable left her mouth she closed it with a snap.

'What was the point,' Emma thought. 'What was the point of saying anything if the person you were speaking to didn't listen?'

Emma let the papers fall from her hands and silently she turned and walked towards the door of the apartment.

"Emma! Emma where are you going?"

Emma ignored the shouts behind her and just kept walking. She didn't know where she was going but she did know she could, she wouldn't, spend another minute in that house. Tears stung Emma's eyes but she refused to let them fall. 'Not yet.' She told herself. She refused to cry anywhere where her mother could still possibly see.

As Emma walked her anger weakened and instead she felt stupid for those five minutes after she had unwrapped the guitar and felt as though maybe, just maybe she could fix the relationship between herself and her mother. In those five minutes she had allowed herself to feel cared about and loved by her mother. She knew her mother did in fact actually love her but her mother was just so right about everything.

Mary Margret always knew what was best and refused to listen to other options. Emma knew that her mother just wanted Emma to be happy and have her best chance when it came to life. What her mother didn't understand was that Emma didn't want her best chance. All she wanted was a chance to make her own decisions. To be able to choose her own path and deal with the consequence when she came to them.

Emma had a plan for her life, she knew it wasn't what her mother wanted or thought was best but it was what Emma wanted for her life. The thing that really cut Emma deep was the fact that Mary Margret had never once asked Emma what she wanted for her life. Her mother just always thought that Emma would be fine with the future that she had picked out for her, but she wasn't.

Emma didn't realize where she was until her feet stopped moving. She was on the porch of the Mayor's manor. Emma didn't know why her feet had brought her here instead of to Ruby's like they usually did and in that moment she didn't care. Raising her arm she knocked softly on the front door at first but after the first knock she began pounding on the door. Every blow she landed on the door was filled with desperation; she just wanted to get out. She wanted a way out of her mother's smothering embrace.

When the door opened her hands fell limply to her sides and she stared into the eyes of a livid Mayor.

The anger in the Mayor's eyes quickly disappeared soon to be replaced with confusion.

"Emma? "