Imaginary Stories: Chapter Four (** Draft **)

(The following is the fourth part of a short story. If you haven't done so already, please consider reading Chapter One, Chapter Two and Chapter Three before continuing.)

Chapter Four: For The Man Who Has Everything

"Norman stood, hands locked together behind his back, and stared out through the window. Spread out before him was the fruit of all those labours, spanning nearly three decades now. His fingerprints were on the architectural plans that had spawned the National Art Gallery there, and all over the funding that had made that bank a reality, not to mention adorning the ownership papers of not one but two skimmer dealerships, there and there!

But none of that explained how the days had become months, and the months then been lost to years. He could remember with crystal clarity the scent of the perfume that Kathy had worn that first day on campus, and the strong grip returned in the handshake that confirmed his admission into McManus, Sullivan and Wright. So why was so much of what came later now a blur to him, accessible only in the cold analytical part of his brain that he might use to call up the details of a photograph?

The Man with the Midas Touch might be how the news services referred to him, but to Norman's way of thinking, his only real ability had been to speed up the passing of time. That, and to strain relationships to the breaking point... and beyond."
- "For The Man Who Has Everything", Coming Of Age Tale, Peter Osbourne (Born 1990), Published 2006

Elizabeth Lee walked briskly down the path leading from her school to the park where she typically ate her lunch. Despite her best attempts at self-control, her thoughts kept sliding back to the words that Miss Allen had said to her, less than an hour earlier. Defying the mental blockades that she'd set for them, the stinging sentiments washed over her again and again. "You and I both know that's not true, Liz. Everyone needs friends! But you're not going to make many if you keep acting like you're somehow above it all. There's more to Life than just knowing all of the answers."

"Oh yeah, like what?" Liz said outloud, in an effort to exorcise the conversation from her head.

"Like what what?" asked Peter Osborne, from where he sat, cross-legged, on the grass to her left.

Liz stopped, even though her natural inclination was to keep on walking. But you're not going to make many... whispered the voice that still rang in her ears. "Oh. Hi, Peter. I didn't see you there."

"At the speed you were going, I'm sure I'm wasn't much more than a blur, anyway. And what would that make you? A redshift, I guess? Or a blueshift? I can never keep those straight."

Liz smiled and said immediately, "Redshift away, blueshift towards", but hoped that both her expression and the voice to go with it had conveyed anything but the condescension that had initially filled her. Bad Liz, she thought to herself. So not going to make many that way!

"Uh, yeah. Hey, I see you brought your lunch," Peter said. "I've already finished mine, but would you like to share a patch of grass while you eat?"

"Um, sure. I was hoping for some company today, anyway." Liar, liar, liar!

As Liz settled in and began unpacking her food, Peter said, "I don't know about you, but it seems like these days, whenever I get a little free time, my mind always starts worrying about my COAT. Do you suppose that's typical of our age group? That it becomes kind of an obsession for us, after a while?"

Between bites, Liz replied, "I'm not sure. I set aside several hours each week for mine, and that's usually the only time I really think about it. Does that mean that I'm going about it all wrong?"

"Hah! Elizabeth Lee, doing something the wrong way? Now there's a funny thought! No, I'm sure you're fine. It's probably me that's out to lunch... so to speak!"

Liz wiped a bit of apple pulp from the corner of her mouth and asked, "What's your COAT about? If you don't mind telling me, that is! You never really say much about it during group time."

"Well." Peter took his tablet nub from his pocket, placed it on the ground between them, and with one finger traced out a rectangle stretching away from the device across the grass, approximately two feet wide by one foot long. Immediately that area filled with a flat, glowing display, representing the contents of his cell of the Hive. He casually touched the light screen several times, bringing up the document that occupied most of his free time at the moment. "As you can see," he said with a wry grin on his face, "what my COAT is about so far is... well, about five thousand words! Hardly even a sweater yet, let alone a COAT. Like that joke never gets old!"

Liz shifted around closer to Peter's position to improve her perspective on the screen's contents, aware that she was slightly uncomfortable about losing some of her own personal space in the process. She reached out one slender hand toward the glowing display and lightly tapped out her progress as she quickly skimmed through what her fellow student was sharing with her. Lost momentarily in the thrill of discovery, she moved forward and back through the material quickly.

Peter couldn't help but stare in admiration at the beauty of his companion's features, which he knew that he was only able to get away with thanks to her absorption in digesting what he'd shown her. She was far and away the most attractive of the girls in his class and yet he'd never had the opportunity to really appreciate that fact until that moment.

When Liz finally looked up again, she noticed Peter staring at her with an strange, unfamiliar expression on his face. She quickly turned away, rubbing at her teeth with a forefinger, convinced that something must be stuck there. And that's why you don't eat with other people, stupid! she thought. But by the time she looked back, the boy had turned his attention once again to the contents of his screen.

"It's not coming together for me, that's for sure," he said. "I know that we're supposed to write about something that we feel passionate about, and I've got that base covered, but..."

"What's your theme?" asked Liz. "And do you have a title yet?"

"It's supposed to be about the conflict between material success and the pursuit of true happiness. And no."

"No?"

"No title. No idea where I really want it to go. No real theme beyond what I just told you. Which is to say, I don't have much. Practically nothing, when you get right down to it. In fact, I'm probably not doing much better than Linus in that regard, with the difference being that at least he's honest about it!"

Liz sensed that she was supposed to say something supportive at this point, but couldn't decide how to do that without sounding patronizing. Instead, she asked, "Is your central character, Norman, based on anyone?" Then she added, "He certainly seems very well-defined, from what I saw in your notes. Impressively so!" See, Miss Allen? I can be supportive when I want to be!

"Well," Peter replied, looking down to avoid Liz's gaze, "let's just say that Sanjay isn't the only one of us with daddy issues!"

"Sanjay has daddy issues?" Liz repeated, genuinely surprised.

"Boy, you really don't pay any attention to what's going on around you, do you?" He saw the girl's face fall at his words, and quickly said, "Sorry, that was really rude of me! I didn't mean it that way."

Liz felt her cheeks getting warm, but fought the impulse to lash back. "Of course you meant it, Peter, and you're right. I stink at making friends! In fact, I was just having my face rubbed in that particular doggie doo not two hours ago. So don't feel bad... you're not even the first person to point it out today!"

"I'm really sorry, Liz." Peter could feel the embarrassment rolling off the girl and desperately wanted to stop it. Much more so than he would've expected, actually. "Look, you came and ate your lunch with me, and I would've bet next week's allowance that you'd never do that. So that's a good step, right?"

Liz smiled weakly and asked, "Am I really that bad? Is it truly a noteworthy achievement that I ate lunch with a classmate today?"

Peter had no idea how to respond to that question without making things worse, and so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Liz snorted. "God! It really is! I'm pathetic."

"Hey, if there's one word I'd never use to describe you, Liz, it's pathetic. You're the most impressive student in the school, no question. You're just a little... light... in the social skills, that's all."

"That's actually a nice way of putting it!" She was surprised by how much it meant to her that Peter was trying to make her feel better. Clearing her throat, she said, "So getting back to your COAT, if it's about your father, and also about happiness versus wealth, what are you hoping to say through it?"

"Say?"

"Well, you know. OK, sure, it's your COAT," and here Liz waved her free hand in a sarcastic big deal motion as she continued to gather up her lunch mess, "and you have to write it to achieve adult status and all that, but what statement are you really trying to make? It could be intended for anyone who happens to read it, as a cautionary tale, or I suppose it could be just for your father himself."

Peter looked confused. He said, "For the man who has everything? I don't expect that he'll take the time to ever read it, and even if he does, what could he possibly get out of it?"

Liz smiled, and this time it was full of joy. "I think you just answered your own question, Peter! It really is 'for the man who has everything,' and maybe you should dedicate it to him, just to make that perfectly clear! There's your statement, my friend... and your title, too, maybe! All in one nice package, with a bow on it!"

Peter stared at her, saying nothing. In fact, he didn't even want to breathe, lest he break the spell of the moment. What's more amazing, he wondered. The fact that brainy Liz Lee turns out to be a real, flesh and blood girl with a beautiful smile, or that she just got my COAT back on track over lunch? Finally, he let the breath out and said, "Elizabeth Lee, I think I may just be in love!"

Liz froze, a look of pure horror on her face. But then she saw the twinkle in Peter's eye, and relaxed. "In your dreams, Romeo," she said, but with a smile that didn't completely rule out further discussion on the topic. Not going to make many, my sweet ass, she thought to herself, as the two walked back to class.

Later that week, Liz and Peter were seated next to each other once again as they were joined by James Hancock, Sanjay Majmudar, Linus Morgan and their teacher, Laurel Allen, for the day's COAT discussion group session. If the others in the circle had noticed anything different in the dynamic between the young Chinese girl and her newfound friend recently, they at least had had the decency not to comment on it. And that's just fine by me, thought Liz as she sat listening to what Sanjay was saying.

"But I don't see what you're getting at, Linus," the Indian youth said. "There was no Richard Jeffries. He was just someone Miss Allen made up for her COAT."

Linus replied, "I know that he didn't exist. That's not what I'm saying. I'm simply asking, what if the whole concept of COATs had never come about? It doesn't matter why; maybe William Allen never thought of it; or he did, but the idea just didn't catch on, for some reason. My question is, how different would the world be today?"

Peter leaned forward slightly, a frown disturbing his even features. "What does it matter, Linus?" he said. "It did catch on! We've had COATs for a century now. Every nation in the world believes in the importance of a literate populace today, and has for generations."

"Exactly!" responded Linus, his eyes dancing from face to face. "But what if that revelation had never happened?"

"Is this just another tack for you to take for why you shouldn't have to write your own COAT?" asked Peter.

Liz quickly reached out a hand and placed it softly on Peter's shoulder, unaware of the quizzical look that move had drawn from her teacher, sitting to the other side of her. Quietly, Liz said, "Actually, I don't think that's what he's saying, Peter. Is it, Linus?"

Linus tried to meet his female classmate's eyes but couldn't, and instead ended up looking down at his shoes as he spoke. "No, that's not what I'm saying, at all. In fact, if anyone really cares, I started my COAT about a week ago. And I'm about twelve thousand words in, as a matter of fact."