EVERMORE | DEAD POETS SOCIETY

FOURTEEN!

JOHN KEATING SAT AT HIS DESK, as he admired his beautiful wife yet he missed so dearly. He was writing a letter to her, telling her all about the amazing students that he had encountered and how deeply they had touched him. He was interrupted by a knock at the door. "It's open." He called out.

Neil Perry entered the room, and shut it behind him. He seemed nervous, upset and on edge. "Neil, what's up?" Mr. Keating asked.

"Can I speak to you for a minute?" Neil asked quietly. Keating didn't mind. He loved Neil. He thought Neil was a brillant, bright student.

"Certainly. Sit down." He told Neil, motioning to the chair. Keating didn't realize the stacks upon stacks of books he had laying on there until Neil moved them. "I'm sorry. Here." Neil said, handing him his books.

"Excuse me. Get you some tea?" He asked Neil. He nodded.

"Tea. Sure." Keating got up to pour the both of them a glass of tea. Normally, he was never one to drink any sort of caffeine but right now, she didn't mind. "Like some milk or sugar in that?"

"No, thanks." Neil told him, and looked around Keating's room. "Gosh, they don't give you much room around here."

"No, it's part of the monastic oath. They don't want worldly things distracting me from my teaching." Keating tells him, handing Neil his cup. Neil glances over to the lady on the desk, which he suspects is his wife.

"She's pretty." Neil says, motioning to the photo.

"She's also in London. Makes it a little difficult." Keating said, sitting down.

"How can you stand it?"

"Stand what?" He asked.

"You can go anywhere. You can do anything. How can you stand being here?" Neil asked. Why would Keating want to be here, out of all the places in the world?

"'Cause I love teaching. I don't wanna be anywhere else." Keating told the young boy. Keating still noticed the strange look he had on this face. It wasn't a good one either. "What's up?"

"I just talked to my father. He's making me quit the play at Henley Hall. He also wants me to stay away from Rebetta.... He says she's a distraction." He told Mr. Keating.

"Acting's everything to me. Rebetta means everything to me. I, But he doesn't know. He... I can see his point about acting. We're not a rich family like Charlie's, and we.. But he's planning the rest of my life for me, and I, H-He's never asked me what I want."

"Have you ever told your father what you just told me? About your passion for acting. Or your love for Rebetta? Have you ever shown him that?" Keating asked him. Neil shook his head.

"I can't." He told Keating.

"Why can't you?"

"I can't talk to him this way." Neil said. If Neil talked back to him, his worst fear would happen. He didn't want that to happen.

"Then you're acting for him, too. You're playing the part of the dutiful son. I know this sounds impossible, but you have to talk to him. You have to show him who you are, what your heart is." Keating said.

"I know what he'll say. He'll tell me that acting's a whim, and I should forget it. He'll also say that I'm too young to know what love is.That's how they're counting on me. He'll just tell me to put it out of my mind, "for my own good."" Neil said. "I love acting, and I love Rebetta. I just can't talk back to him... I just can't."

"You are not an indentured servant. If it's not a whim for you, you prove it to him by your conviction and your passion. You show him that. And if he still doesn't believe you, well, by then you'll be out of school and you can do anything you want, you can be with whoever you want.." Keating told him. A small tear fell down his cheek.