enough of the world to see in the property around him. Roman would feel better about his situation after hearing his father talk specifically to him, but it still didn’t fill the void his father’s consistent absences andrigid ways left in his heart.Although Roman-named by his father after the Empire Bradford truly admired growing up-showed agreat deal of intelligence and natural leadership qualities, he was more emotional than his father. Romanhad been in search of true love and friendship the likes of which Bradford didn’t make time for and hismother Clara never really gave much credence to.Roman leaned his head up against his right arm, which sat upon its elbow against the desk his father hadmade specifically for him by top quality designers as a birthday present when he was merely five years of age. He looked down on that dark oak desk as the celebration of his father’s birth forty years from thecurrent day reminded him of what his father told him when he was presented with that piece of furniture asopposed to the pony he wanted: “Remember son that work is of the utmost priority”. Honestly, Roman feltthat having what he always asked politely for was more important then than getting a new desk, but it wasmade to serve as a symbol for what should have mattered most to him.Outside from where he was sitting, Roman saw birds soar downward and land together on the grass of the portion of his yard he could see from his side bedroom window in front of him. They were brightorange and black, which his tutor told him were orioles back when Roman was granted a day outside thehouse during one of his daily lessons. He thought of how nice it would have been to get a closer look atthose orioles, but felt the stuffy, tightness of his bow tie and realized that notion was out of the question.He had to keep himself spiffy for the big gala spectacle going on that evening for his father and had tomake certain he looked perfect for the cameras, the lights, the network entertainment reporters, and the paparazzi.Roman never understood why everyone made such a big deal about him since he was merely a childtaking over a family business. Granted, it was the biggest business in the United States, making up a large portion of the economy as well as the job rates in Northern New York, but it was still just steel and oilsupply and manufacturing to Roman; nothing more.Contemplating on how many aspects of natural life reminded him of
work
, Roman sighed sadly as hetried to lose himself in a daydream that didn’t lead him right back to that desk in that tuxedo on that coolApril 5th evening. With the warning of only a tiny tap on the bedroom door, Roman’s mother Clara bargedright in proclaiming that it was about time he was ready to leave. “Oh honey, don’t slouch like that in your chair; you’re going to mangle your beautiful new tux,” she said to Roman, who replied with another sigh.“Forgive me, mother. I had gotten dressed and washed up and everything so early, I had nothing better to do to kill time,” Roman moped as he stood up and turned in her direction.“Oh sweetie, you look fantastic. You are without a doubt the most beautiful ten year old boy in theentire country,” Clara complimented him before coming over and fiddling with his hair. “Let’s just do alittle something with your bangs, dear. You shouldn’t have them all over your big, blue eyes.”Of course, whenever Clara said such things to Roman, it was more her commenting on her own goodlooks rather than his alone. Sure, Roman was a lovely young man, but his eyes were always said to beidentical to her round, deep, ocean blue eyes that still had the beauty they held when she and her husbandfirst met twenty years before.Clara was a well built woman: Maintaining her trim, hourglass figure from years of engaging in upper class type games like polo and tennis. Although she wasn’t brought up in an excruciatingly wealthyhousehold, Clara was well immersed in the ways of the rich and snobbish.Clara was part of the Syosset DuBoises, all bound to the shoe repair shop their grandfather started whenhe arrived from France back in 1912. Although they made their humble fortune, being married to aSteadwell was a giant leap to a plateau most people could never dream of existing in.When Clara was finished grooming Roman’s jet black hair, she again inspected him closely to assure hewas representing the family business as well as he could. “Oh Roman, you got your jacket all wrinkled,”Clara complained, though her assessment was an overreaction since she was able to straighten out whatever was bothering her with mere swipes of her hand.“I’m sorry, ma. I didn’t think that was going to happen,” Roman apologized truthfully, though he was barely in the mood to sound as sincere as he had been.“That’s quite alright, my little darling. You know how mommy gets when you’re presenting yourself out in the public; especially during a night as big as this one is for your father,” Clara reminded indirectlyof the birthday party she and her son were preparing for that evening.
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