Bruce tried to sound upbeat when greeting his father but Thomas' stony
glare made him tense. Instead of greeting the son he hadn't seen in
months, Thomas angrily pushed a letter into the boy's chest.
"Dean Walters sent this to me today." He began, sounding dangerously calm though annunciating his words very carefully. "He wanted to express his sincere gratitude for the donation I sent him this semester even despite the fact that my son dropped out of school two months ago."
Bruce could only stand there, his head lowered in guilt as he waited for the lecture he knew had to follow such a revelation. He innerly pleaded with himself to keep quiet and let 'hurricane dad' run his course.
"I am an easy man." Thomas said in a dangerous tone. His eyes were fixed into a harsh glare on his son.
Bruce, who was never one to listen to his own reason, flopped into the nearest chair with a labored sigh. "God Dad! Not the 'I'm an easy man' speech. I swear you've been using that one on me since I was ten."
"And maybe someday you'll choose to listen!" Thomas shot back. His face was turning red with anger and these days it seemed a common side effect of talking to his son. "Were you ever going to tell me?!"
"Yes." Bruce shrugged. "It didn't seem like something to blurt out over the phone."
"So you have spent the past couple months hangin' in California; hiding out from your poor mother and I. Smart Bruce, very responsible." Thomas spouted sarcastically then seemed to have a disturbing thought, evident by the creases in his forehead. "Oh my God.ARE YOU ON DRUGS?!"
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Great." He sighed to no one in particular. Bruce had sat through enough lectures to know that Thomas had to slip in the drug issue somewhere. The aging doctor had the paranoia of thinking that all people under the age of 30 did drugs. It was annoying.
"Are you!" Thomas demanded and answer, his eyes filled with fear.
"No dad! For the last time I don't do drugs! Why do you have to ask me every time I see you?!" Bruce yelled.
"Well maybe because your decisions are so asinine I can only hope there a result of something other than pure stupidity!"
Bruce's eyes shot up. "Stupidity? Because I choose not to go to medical school?"
"The first time you have ever taken a direction in your life and you throw it away." Thomas shook his head in amazement. "Yes I call that stupidity." Bruce knew he wouldn't win on this one. Thomas had been preparing for Bruce to be a doctor since he was a baby. He rubbed his head, trying to massage away a massive headache forming.
"Are we done?" He asked wearily.
"Not even close." Thomas glared. "You should be glad I didn't involve your mother in this."
"Then there will be two of us to think you're being unreasonable." Bruce muttered.
Thomas did not look amused. "You are grounded young man! You will spend the next three months working mornings at the clinic and afternoons making up the classes you skipped out on. Perhaps Stamford wasn't the right medical school to send you to." He went on. "Maybe I'll have to look into some place closer."
Bruce's mouth dropped in disbelief. "You can't ground me. I'm 22-years- old! And you certainly can't force me to take classes."
Thomas shrugged with a shrewd look. "I control your trust fund as well as your monthly allowance so I sure as hell have a say in what you do with that money."
"I see." Bruce answered quietly before he got up and marched out of the office.
"Where are you going?" Thomas bellowed.
"Out." Bruce answered, slamming the front door behind him.
"Dean Walters sent this to me today." He began, sounding dangerously calm though annunciating his words very carefully. "He wanted to express his sincere gratitude for the donation I sent him this semester even despite the fact that my son dropped out of school two months ago."
Bruce could only stand there, his head lowered in guilt as he waited for the lecture he knew had to follow such a revelation. He innerly pleaded with himself to keep quiet and let 'hurricane dad' run his course.
"I am an easy man." Thomas said in a dangerous tone. His eyes were fixed into a harsh glare on his son.
Bruce, who was never one to listen to his own reason, flopped into the nearest chair with a labored sigh. "God Dad! Not the 'I'm an easy man' speech. I swear you've been using that one on me since I was ten."
"And maybe someday you'll choose to listen!" Thomas shot back. His face was turning red with anger and these days it seemed a common side effect of talking to his son. "Were you ever going to tell me?!"
"Yes." Bruce shrugged. "It didn't seem like something to blurt out over the phone."
"So you have spent the past couple months hangin' in California; hiding out from your poor mother and I. Smart Bruce, very responsible." Thomas spouted sarcastically then seemed to have a disturbing thought, evident by the creases in his forehead. "Oh my God.ARE YOU ON DRUGS?!"
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Great." He sighed to no one in particular. Bruce had sat through enough lectures to know that Thomas had to slip in the drug issue somewhere. The aging doctor had the paranoia of thinking that all people under the age of 30 did drugs. It was annoying.
"Are you!" Thomas demanded and answer, his eyes filled with fear.
"No dad! For the last time I don't do drugs! Why do you have to ask me every time I see you?!" Bruce yelled.
"Well maybe because your decisions are so asinine I can only hope there a result of something other than pure stupidity!"
Bruce's eyes shot up. "Stupidity? Because I choose not to go to medical school?"
"The first time you have ever taken a direction in your life and you throw it away." Thomas shook his head in amazement. "Yes I call that stupidity." Bruce knew he wouldn't win on this one. Thomas had been preparing for Bruce to be a doctor since he was a baby. He rubbed his head, trying to massage away a massive headache forming.
"Are we done?" He asked wearily.
"Not even close." Thomas glared. "You should be glad I didn't involve your mother in this."
"Then there will be two of us to think you're being unreasonable." Bruce muttered.
Thomas did not look amused. "You are grounded young man! You will spend the next three months working mornings at the clinic and afternoons making up the classes you skipped out on. Perhaps Stamford wasn't the right medical school to send you to." He went on. "Maybe I'll have to look into some place closer."
Bruce's mouth dropped in disbelief. "You can't ground me. I'm 22-years- old! And you certainly can't force me to take classes."
Thomas shrugged with a shrewd look. "I control your trust fund as well as your monthly allowance so I sure as hell have a say in what you do with that money."
"I see." Bruce answered quietly before he got up and marched out of the office.
"Where are you going?" Thomas bellowed.
"Out." Bruce answered, slamming the front door behind him.