I have always had a theory about love. Love is one of those things that will happen when it's meant to happen. You can't just roll out of bed and say; "I think I'm going to fall in love today." That doesn't happen. What I think happens is you expect nothing and you get everything. Although some people get the idea that you don't have to be in love to be married. Case in point; my father. I used to pray that some miracle would destroy the Carlson estate in its entirety. Now I just pray that by some miracle I'm set free from its expectations, especially the pressure to love.

"Rachael, could you explain that too me one more time?" I, Anthony Carlson, asked one of my friends Rachael Wellington. We had grown up together and she was trying to explain her own love theories to me.

"Okay, I think that everyone is destined to be with a certain person and when they meet them something inside them just knows it's them." Rachael replied with her usual manner of not caring how absolutely ridiculous something sounds.

I shook my head, but I didn't say anything. Rachael had come to try and get me to sneak out to town with her again. I would say she was a little bit obsessed with slumming it. I didn't mind it really, but Rachael had to go out almost every night even at the expense of others. It was almost a year ago that her insisting that one of her friends go out with her had ruined everything. Rachael had been friends with another girl, one of the many my father tried to get me engaged to, Cynthia Bennett. She had been caught sneaking out and was sent to America. For the longest time all we knew of her was that see was dead. The ship caught fire, what else were we supposed to think? Then out of the blue Rachael got a letter from her. She said that she was miserable, and hadn't made a single friend at the stupid lodging house thing she was staying at. Now, if I had the opportunity I would have written and said, "Cynthia go to your aunt's, don't be so stubborn." But that was before the ball.

"Here Anthony, this is Maria Contessa," My father said introducing me to the thirtieth girl that evening. I can't remember any of their names except Maria Contessa. She was pretty, sure, they all were pretty, but after meeting about three million girls with golden blonde curls and sparkling sapphire eyes, you get sick of it really quick. My father left me alone with Maria and she just started to giggle, excessively. I don't think I need to explain how annoying excessive giggling is. If I do, I don't want to put you through it. She just kept giggling until I told I was going to get something to drink and never came back.

"Anthony," someone hissed as I walked through one of the corridors of the Blanchard Manor.

"Who is it?" I asked the voice.

"Rachael, stupid,"

"Oh, what do you want?"

"I have a letter for you, from Cynthia." Rachael stepped out of the doorway she was hiding in and handed me a letter.

"Why would Cynthia be writing to me?" I had to admit I was shocked.

"How should I know?" Rachael asked looking at me as if I was the dimmest person on the planet. I guess I shouldn't have been so forward as to assume that she would read any of my post that was sent care of her.

I opened the letter and read it to myself, a little bit confused. Cynthia was babbling about having no one to talk to and the only thing I could think about was how stupid she had to be. I mean, honestly, she has two options stay in a poor man's boarding house or go to her rich Aunt's in Queen's. The choice seemed obvious and yet…her Aunt would probably auction her off to the highest bidder in the form of a wedding, just like my father was planning to do to me. "Can I have her address?"

"It's on the envelope you simpleton." Rachael said angrily, "But if you're thinking of turning her in I will strangle you until your almost dead and then I'll…"

"Rachael, I just want to write a letter back."

"Oh, then I guess it's okay."

"Anthony Christopher James Carlson!" my father bellowed at me when we returned home from the ball.

"What is it father?" I asked trying to sound as innocent as I possibly could. This was an almost impossible task considering I was extremely guilty of the crime that he was about to accuse me of. I was also sorely tempted to add, `you forgot, the fourth.' But I didn't think this was an appropriate time to remind him to say my full name.

"You've wasted enough time. You've got to get yourself a wife, soon."

"I haven't met the right girl." Here we go again…my father has some excessive issues. I know he does.

"You don't have to love her, or even like her for Christ's sake, just make sure she's rich."

"Father, I don't believe in that."

"I don't give a damn what you believe in, Anthony!" He screamed, the little vein in his forehead protruding as usual. I focused on the vein, so I didn't have to listen to him. "You have been given everything you could ever want. I just ask one thing of you son. Go make something of yourself. Damn it! Just do this, you're already useless to me."

I found this statement extremely irritating I wasn't useless. In fact, I was planning on making something of myself, just not the way he wanted me to. I sat down at my desk and stared at a blank sheet of paper. I had to write to Cynthia, I didn't really have anyone to talk to either.

Cynthia,

I never thought I'd hear from you again. I really do miss you. My father said some things about you that I didn't agree with the night I met you and I've felt horrible about it since. You know, I've never been extremely outgoing either, especially when it comes to girls. I was so scared of you and the fact that you didn't say anything made me so much more nervous. My father and I are having some real problems lately. He wants me to marry the first girl I see, and I want to wait to fall in love. You understand don't you? I think that if my father keeps pressing the marriage issue I'm going to come to America. I won't tell him that obviously. Keep this between us okay Cynthia. I know I can trust you.

Love,
Anthony

`There,' I thought, `That should do it.' I didn't expect it would even get so bad that I would have to actually go to America, but who knew? Maybe that would be the chance I needed.

"Anthony!" A voice screamed outside my window. It had to be late at night because there wasn't anything moving in the whole house. I looked out my window to see not only the expected Rachael Wellington standing there, but also her cousin Ophelia Blanchard.

"What is it now?" I hissed at them. I was tired and wasn't particularly excited that Rachael had drug her cousin out of the manor. I could see Ophelia any day of the week. In fact I could see practically anyone any day of the week. Mention a girl to my father and suddenly you found yourself at her front door.

"It's Cynthia!" Ophelia shouted. Since shouting was very uncharacteristic of her I assumed that something had gone horribly wrong and climbed down from the window as had done on so many other occasions.

"What's happened?"

"You best come see for yourself," Rachael said. There was a strange glint of anger in her eye, something that she didn't show very often. Sarcasm, yes, but anger…hardly ever.

I walked over to the two of them. Rachael had a letter in her hand that she turned over to me. I could feel the same anger rising up inside me as I read the horrific words printed in Cynthia's sweet angelic handwriting. When I had finished I handed the letter back to Rachael. "I'm going," was all I said, but I know they both understood perfectly well.

"I'm sorry kid. I'm not taking you all the way to New York to see some bird," the fishing boat captain said angrily.

"But you don't understand. I've to geet there. And you're already going to Brooklyn. You said so yourself."

"So what if I am. Why would I take a rich pretty boy with my crew?"

"Because, sir, I can pay you." I hated rezorting to this, but hell it usually worked. I showed him a few gold coins and I saw his eyes light up like Christmas day had finally come.

"Of course, kid, but it'll take awhile. And you'll have to work."

"Of course, I'm not as much of an ass as you think I am." He smirked at me as I climbed aboard the fishing boat. I was on my way to see her again. I didn't realize until exactly that moment how much I really did want to see her face. That heaven for fishermen you don't eat enough.