“What?! Huh?!” I shrieked as I woke up from a deep daydream.

“I asked you a question.” she responded sternly.

“Could you please repeat it once more?”

“Ugh, I asked you who spoke the immortal words 'The law is reason free from passion?'”

I thought really hard about this. It was a struggle to pay attention in class when you could honestly care less about what the teacher has to say. Everything the professor lectured just formed a jumbled up mess in my head. I didn't understand any of it, and I knew I was struggling. What could I possibly do? My father, who is a military officer, has always pushed me to be a lawyer because I had the opportunity to. When I suggested a career in literacy he laughed in my face. Ever since I was a young boy I would spend all my time writing poems and stories inspired all by my favorite writer François-René de Chateaubriand, dreaming of the day when they would all be published and be placed in bookshelves all over the world. But I could not disappoint my father who was risking his life in battle for the freedom of his people, so I began to think long and hard on the question Madam Thénardier asked.

“Um, well...uh-”

“Start paying more attention in class and less on those idiotic poems you write. I knew you were never smart enough to be in this class of true future lawyers.” she muttered under her breathe as if I couldn't hear her evil words,”The answer was Aristotle.”

I could hear the quiet chuckles around me, the eyes staring at me. My face I knew was as red as an apple. I took my pocket watch out and looked at the time. It seemed to be going by very slowly. When the class finally ended I ran out the door and straight to the place I go everyday, the woods. I ran faster and faster knowing my secret love, Adele Foucher, would be there.

Upon arriving, I wandered all over the dark endless woods in search of her long golden hair always braided in two perfect pigtails. Her big blue eyes resembling the bluest ocean, and her cheeks full with tiny freckles which I called angel kisses, making her grin every time. Then I saw her writing quietly, hidden, as I knew she would be.

“Oh, hi there Victor! It's nice to see you again!” cheerfully she announced.

“Hello there! I imagined you would be here!” I replied while setting my satchel down next to her.

“Oh Victor, you know I have nothing else to do with my life but write and pray for father to get better.” she stated, as her face became filled with the color of despair and she closed her eyes in anguish. Her father was ill and was getting worse day by day. One day when she left her brown journal behind in the woods I read the entire book. What it contained did not surprise me. Page after page filled with words of hopelessness and pessimism. I wanted to make her happy, and in order to do that I had to tell her how I feltl.

“Adele, in my life there have always been so many questions and answers that somehow seem wrong, but there is one thing I know for certain. And that is I love you and have since we were children playing together.” I announced.

“I love you too, Victor! But you know as well as me our love is forbidden. Your mother does not approve of me and my father, us being poor and at a low society level.”

“I do not care. We must be together, Adele. This is a chain we'll never break! No one can break, not even my mother.”




*********************************

“Mother, I would like to speak to you.” I demanded while slamming the front door behind me.

“And what is so important that made you angry enough to slam the door?!” she responded.

“I want to speak to you about Adele Foucher and our love for each other.”

“There is nothing to discuss. I already warned you about your relationship with that strange girl without a sou. You have a future ahead of you, unlike her.”

“I love her and you, or anyone else who thinks the contrary, can tell me what I can or can't do!” I yelled in complete rage. She just stood in disbelief, speechless. I had never rose my voice at her, but I did not regret it. True she was my mother, but I am old enough to make decisions on my own. She turned around and walked slowly into her bedroom. The house was so quiet you could have heard a needle drop from anywhere inside. Times like these really made me feel empty, alone, almost paralyzed. If only my father was here to give me the advice I grew up listening to. Soon he will be here with us and will see me living up to his dream of being a successful lawyer.
*********************************


The day started out normal, but something did feel strange. I went to class and prepared to possibly be humiliated once again. The professor taught the lecture and gave us an assignment to do afterwards. Then something happened next that changed would change my life.

“Message for Victor Hugo” the mail carrier opened the door and announced.
Madam Thénardier grabbed what seemed to be a letter, walked towards me, and placed it on my desk. I opened it slowly, clueless on what it could say. I read the letter. Every word, over and over again, not believing what it said. Tears began rushing down my face like waterfalls. My father was dead. My father, dead and gone. Studying it with my eyes. It could not be true. He promised to come back and be with us. There was another letter along with it. This one written by him, to me. In this letter, my father was apologizing for never listening to my dreams, and he was telling me to go after them. He said mother had sent him a few of my poems and he had read them. Most importantly he loved them and thought I had a gift and should become a writer.

“Are you done reading the interruption?” Madam Thenardier asked.

“No, I am not done with it.” I responded sternly.

“Well I suggest you finish reading it and put it away before I take it from you and dismiss you from class. Do I make myself clear?”

“Very.”

Then, without thought, I got up from my seat, and I ran towards the exit. I didn't know where I was going, but I definitely wasn't going back there ever again. I could hear her yelling after me and all the students screeching their chairs back in order to see me frantically sprinting. I wanted to go somewhere no one could judge me or tell me what I could or couldn't do, so I headed for the woods. That was when I realized I was living my father's dream, not my own. I made it to the woods and searched everywhere for Adele, assuming she would be in the woods at the time. Nothing. When I needed her comfort most, I did not have it. The last place I wanted to go was home, but mother needed me there so I began heading home.

**********************************

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. I stood there expecting to see my mother, but instead found Adele opening the door for me. We just looked at each other without saying a word. There was no need for words, I knew exactly how she felt and what she was thinking at the moment. She came closer and wrapped her arms around me, her warmth making me feel safe and loved. We headed inside
and she led me to where my mother was. Evidently Adele had come once she had found out my father had died to make sure my mother was okay.

There she was in her bedroom, sobbing on a chair. She began crying even louder when she saw me walk in.

“I am so sorry about everything. I realize you and Adele should be together and I made a mistake in thinking otherwise.” she wailed.

“I forgive you. I also forgive Father who is not here with us today. I know all you both wanted was the best for me, and I am thankful for that.” I replied with ease as I leaned in to hug her.

******************3 years later****************


“Victor, sweetheart, we are going to be late! You are the guest of honor, you cannot be late.” Adele exclaimed.

“I know, I know. I find it impossible to button up the buttons on this coat.” I replied to her remark.

“I am very proud of you, just so you now.” she spoke while buttoning my coat,”You have come so far in living your dream. Not too long ago you were in law school trying to figure out who you were, and now you are going to a celebration of your first published book made into a musical theatre!”

“I couldn't have made it without my wonderful wife”

At the end of the day my father was to thank. He gave me the chance to become whatever I wanted. I wouldn't be here without him and the letter he wrote to me, knowing he would die sooner or later. Without that single letter, my poems and novels would not be sitting on any bookshelves.