Chapter Two
Blood and Stone
A few weeks later I was hurt in the hockey match at Cornell
university. My face was badly cut and the officials gave me
the penalty for starting the fight. Five minutes! I sat quietly in
the penalty box while the team manager cleaned the blood off
my face. I was ashamed to look out onto the ice. But the shouts
of the crowd told me everything. Cornell scored a goal. The
score was 3-3 now. 'Damn', I thought. We're going to lose this
match, because of me.
Across the ice, among the crowd, I saw him. My father,
Mr. Carlisle Cullen himself. Old Stonyface.
He was looking straight at me.
'If the meeting finishes in time, I'll come to Cornell and
watch you play,' he had told me on the phone.
And there he was, Mr. Carlisle Cullen. What was he
thinking about? Who could say? Why was he here? Family
pride, perhaps. 'Look at me. I am a very busy, important man,
but I have come all the way to Cornell, just to watch my son
play in a hockey match.'
We lost, six goals to three. After the match the doctor put
twelve stitches in my face.
When I got to the changing-room, it was empty. They
don't want to talk to me, I thought. I lost that match.
I felt very ashamed as I walked out into the winter night.
'Come and have dinner, son,' said a voice.
It was Mr. Carlisle Sebastian Cullen, himself.
At dinner we had one of our non-conversations. We spoke
to each other, but didn't actually say anything.
These nonconversations always started with 'How have you been,
son?' and ended with 'Is there anything I can do for you?'
'How have you been, son?' my father began.
'Fine, sir.'
'Does your face hurt?'
'No, sir.' (It hurt terribly.)
Next, Old Stonyface talked about Playing the Game. 'All
right, son, you lost the match.' (How clever of you to notice,
Father.) 'But after all, in sport, the important thing is the
playing, not the winning.' spoke Mr. Carlisle Cullen
Wonderful, I thought. Father was chosen for the Olympic
Games. And now he says winning is not important!
I just looked down at my plate and said 'Yes, sir' at the
right times.
Our non-conversation continued. After Playing the Game,
he discussed My Plans.
'Tell me, Edward, has the Law School accepted you yet?' asked Carlisle
'Not yet, sir.' I said.
'Would you like me to phone them?' asked Mr. Carlisle Cullen
'No!' I said at once. 'I want to get a letter like other people,
sir. Please.' I said
'Yes, of course. Fine. After all, they're sure to accept you.'' spoke Carlisle.
Why? I thought. Because I'm clever and successful?
Or because I'm the son of Carlisle Sebastian Cullen?
The meal was as uninteresting as the conversation.
At last my father spoke again.
'There's always the Peace Corps, Edward,' he said suddenly.
'I think the Peace Corps is a fine thing, don't you?'
'Oh, yes, sir,' I said politely. I knew nothing about the
Peace Corps.
'What do your friends at Harvard think about the Peace
Corps?' he asked. 'Do they feel that the Peace Corps is
important in our world today?'
'Yes, sir,' I said politely, just to please him.
After dinner I walked with him to his car.
'Is there anything I can do for you, son?' he asked.
'No, thank you, sir. Good night, sir.'
Our non-conversation was finished: he drove away. Yes,
of course there are planes, but Mr. Carlisle Cullen chose
to drive. My father likes to drive - fast. And at that time of
night, in an Aston Martin DBS, you can go very fast indeed.
I called Bella on my cell. That was the only good part
of the evening. I told her about the fight. She enjoyed that.
Her musical friends never got into fights.
'I hope you hit the man who hit you,' Bella said.
'Oh, yes.' I bragged to her.
Bella said,'Good! I'm sorry I couldn't be there to watch you.
Perhaps you'll hit somebody in the Yale match?' Bella asked
I smiled. Bella really made me feel better.
Back at Harvard the next day I dropped by at her dorm.
Bella was talking to someone on the phone in the hall.
'Yes. Of course! Oh yes, Charlie. I love you too. Love and
kisses. Goodbye, Charlie.'
Who was she talking to? I had only been away forty-eight
hours, and she had found a new boyfriend!
Bella did not seem ashamed. She kissed me lightly on the
unhurt side of my face.
'Hey - you look terrible!' she said.
'Twelve stitches, Bella.'
'Does the other man look worse than you?' she asked.
'Much worse. I always make the other man look worse.' I bragged.
We walked to my MG sports car.
'Who's Charlie?' I asked as carelessly as I could.
'My father,' answered Bella.
I could not believe that! 'You call your father Charlie?'
'That's his name. What do you call your father?' Bella said.
'Sir,' I replied.
'He must be really proud of you. You're a big hockey star
- and you're always successful in your exams.' Bella stated.
'You don't know anything, Bella. He was good at exams
and sport, too. He was in the Olympic Games.' I said.
'My God! Did he win?' asked Bella.
'No.' I answered her.
(Actually, Old Stonyface was sixth, which makes me
feel a little better.)
Bella was silent for a moment.
'Why do you hate him so much?' Bella asked at last.
'I'm Edward Anthony Cullen,' I answered. 'All Cullens
have to be successful. And that means I have to be good at
everything, all the time. I hate it.'
'Oh, I'm sure you do,' laughed Bella. 'You hate doing
well in your exams. You hate being a hockey star . . .'
'But he expects it!' I said. 'If I'm successful, he isn't
excited, or surprised. He was a big success, and he expects
me to be the same.' I said
I told Bella about our meal and our non-conversation after
the Cornell match, but she didn't understand at all.
'You say your father is a busy man,' Bella said. 'But he
found time to go all the way to Cornell to watch you play.
How can you say these terrible things about him, when he
drove all that way, just to watch your hockey match?
He loves you, Edward - can't you understand?'
'Forget it, Bella,' I said. She was silent for a moment.
'I'm pleased you have problems with your father,' Bella said
at last. 'That means you aren't perfect.'
'Oh - you mean you are perfect?' I asked her.
'Of course not, Fratboy. That's why I go out with you!'
Bella loved to have the last word.