Christopher WunderLee - Moore's Mythopoeia

She wants to see him again… he’s listening to her again, his wild one eye focused on her, like a prolonged wink… she holding him in her arms… holding him as he shivers… “I know… I know…”

She folds the paperwork back up and places the folder in his briefcase, he hears the snap of each latch and the light turned off and her rising. Nothing new, she’ll contact the Wolf… meeting at warehouse… nothing new to report… He steps quickly back towards the bedroom, hears the study door open and her naked feet slap against the wood floor, a small clap as she places his briefcase back…

…she could try to find him… he might still be close…

Vincent leaves the bedroom and wanders down the hall again. She’s standing by their coats, moonlight from the window catching her nude body motionless as she considers him.

…if she could help, she would… perhaps he wants her to come find him…

“Elisa? What are you doing honey?” Vincent whispers innocently, startling her, who quickly, accidentally darts a look towards the briefcase, before looking up at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry… did I wake you?”

“No, are you okay?”

“Yes, I was… I was thinking about some designs I have to do… I’m a little worried about the deadline.”

“Come back to bed honey, its too early, or late, or whatever,” he coaxes her, looking over at his briefcase as well as he turns to walk back towards the bedroom. She doesn’t move at first, and then she follows him…

* * *

Graham Greene doesn’t know, he doesn’t know they are monitoring his movements, from the point when he left the house that morning, Haddie phoning in: “he’s left, he should be there in about a half hour”, to his entrance onto the freeway (two cars following), to his exit in the city, drive down Dromi Avenue, pulling into parking lot (now they have visual on him), hurry, hurry… and the chance encounter as he steps out of his car by a colleague, who annoyingly detains poor Graham as he recounts a recent vacation, ignoring Graham’s quick replies and four or five closure attempts, then begins to ask about his armory, that collection he’s so proud of, “an antique sword from the reign of Louis the Fourteenth, you don’t say”, all for the surprise.

Graham finally ends it with his colleague, who checks his watch and abruptly (without ceremony) takes his leave… subject a little confused, but nevertheless, able to go on his way, absently up the elevator to the sixty-third floor… he’s got a lot to do today, this week, recalling the Berkshire Frozen Dinner campaign, perfect jingle, remained in his head for days afterwards, preconditioning responses on test subjects flawless, time to pass it on and focus on the Sunnydale Beach Resort & Recreational Campus account…

The floors speed by: three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine… no one in the elevator, “well that’s strange”, he’s not that late, really should check in with Simmons on that beverage acquisition, tell Mrs. Lautter to ring the florist, still newlyweds, really, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen… damn slow, he doesn’t mind usually, strange to run into Charles Tragrooth this morning, haven’t seen him in years, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, bing, bing, “good morning, good morning” pleasant nods, two more passengers, he doesn’t recognize either, subordinates, he can tell by their tones, novelty’s worn off, used to be that he’d sign autographs and catch women looking at him, “yes, I’m Graham Greene”, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, bing, bing, she steps off, just the two of them left, “dirty elevator sex?”, “I’m a married man I’m afraid”, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four…

By the time Graham makes it to his floor, he’s the only one on the elevator, no longer pretending to read the morning paper, standing at attention at the door, bing, bing, finally, the doors open… large crowd waiting, faces smiling, clapping, it’s for him… what did he do? Must have secured another account… never had this kind of response, must be a big one… “thank you, thank you, thank you all very much,” he confusedly moves through them, hands on his back, hugs from office girls, hand-shakes, nods, a big banner: GO GRAHAM GO! He slowly inches through them, the President standing by a podium, chairs all lined up, other VPs and Directors and Fasces standing nearby, nobles allowing their inferiors the introduction, like a prince arriving at the castle, the President waves Graham towards him…

“Take your seats please, everyone take your seats,” an executive assistant barks into the microphone, “let’s sit down and will get things started.”

Graham aside to Yvonne Lizlong: “what’s going on?” only for her to smile coyly and retreat away to a chair, he walks up the center aisle towards the President, who’s still waiting for his assistant to seat everybody. GO GRAHAM GO! All the seniors are present… promotion? Big account? He’s not sure why…

“Graham Greene everybody,” enormous thunder clap of applause, he’s walking through, looking to them for answers, he smiles gently, knowingly, “Graham Greene!”

He’s shown a chair, right next to the now standing President’s, hand-shakes from all the Fasces, proud smiles, ‘good job’ kind of grasps, one hand clasped around his, the other resting politely on his upper arm with a faint squeeze and a few soft pats, ‘good job my boy’… he takes his seat and waits for the President to speak.

“Once in awhile,” the President orates to the crowd, Graham with a view of the back of his head, “a man comes along who revolutionizes a business. You can tell he’s special, a real team player. He’s the kind of man that sees the Gigantic World, who thinks from the exterior of the Big Package, and who does it with panache. We all know whom I’m speaking of… GRAHAM GREENE. Now, we’ve been given the opportunity to show Graham just how much we appreciate all of his hard work and dedication. For the first time in Hidiger, Popov, & Schlesinger’s history, we’ve capped the billion mark, due greatly to Graham. So when we were informed that we could, for the first time, nominate one of our executives onto the Board of Directors, there was only one man any of us thought of, that man was Graham GREENE. Congratulations Graham.”

Applause, loud applause… Graham begins to rise, feigns arrogant expectation of the honor, even as he’s dumbfounded, shocked, elated, so pleased, wait till Haddie hears this, ascending beyond his firm, chosen over all the others, new job, beyond promotion, he could be CEO one day, new accomplishment, grand insertion into Greene lineage, surpassing all those before him, perfect, utterly perfect, he finds himself at the podium, shaking hands with President, a few flashes from cameras, his belly churning, his hands shaking slightly, a little perspiration, he cannot believe it, repeats the words over and over to himself, expected to speak, what a surprise, humble, yet authoritative, he’s a Director now, and not just of the firm, of the board, they will never attain it, he is one amongst many, chemically ordained for leadership, this changes everything, he thanks the President, still shaking hands, what shall he say? something eloquent, but respectable, not too thankful, but pleasant, not talking down to the lowly, but not humbling himself either, he is on the Board of Directors, a representative of the government, Graham Greene, thirty-eight years old, recently married, former Senior VP, now a Director, thank you very much…

For the next few weeks, the celebration continued, nameless people calling to congratulate him, famous people inviting him to ceremonies in his honor, flowers, fruit baskets, cards, fan mail, reporters, headlines, best wishes from other Directors, interviews (of which he happens to be a master of), banquets, a whole hour special devoted to his life on one of the major networks, personal appearances, initiations, the appointment’s official proceedings, honorary degrees, fan club meetings, speeches, requests aplenty, graciously accepted or denied (depending upon their prestige), a meeting with the CEO himself, and Graham appearing so dapper in his fine suits and relaxed air — he knew celebrity and it fit him well. He smiled, made promises, detailed a plan for future posterity, was received well, not too conservative, a little progressive, but nothing revolutionary, he spoke of his father and his family, leaders everyone of them, pulled heart strings, made women weep a little, just enough, made men nod their heads in agreement, treated the honor like a great gift, half expected, but not arrogantly so, he was a smash, asked to dine with powerful people, accepted all he could, made them promises he had no idea if he could keep, held babies, kissed women on the cheek (all the while his touting, bashful younger bride [a woman with happiness behind her] in all of her pleasantness at his side, waving like a beauty pageant contestant, never speaking), reflecting all the goodness of the world…