The List
Looking out into the ocean, Jordan Clay sat in trance, as the busy restaurant moved about behind him. He had been to Baltimore before, mostly business trips as his attire would suggest; however a few times, when he was young, he had come for pleasure. He continued to stare, not really thinking of anything, just allowing his food to settle as the rest of the world raced through their lives. Boats moved in the harbour, children ran across the streets below, and traffic was starting to gather, all on their way home he imagined.
It was almost five o’clock in the afternoon, he had just finished another drawn out day of presentations and corporate meetings, and all he wanted to do now was unwind. He looked down at the novel he had with him, reserving it mostly for the habitual flights, he cracked open the volume to dispatch a little time. Already there had been two murders, an unnecessary shower scene, and a chapter he knows he had read in another book. It didn’t take long for him to remember why he had put this book down in the first place, and returned to looking through his surroundings. At the table to his left, there sat a man typing furiously on a lap top, his loud typing eventually forming beats within the background noise. At the table in front of him, sat another single man, this one much younger than himself, probably in his early twenties, wearing blue jeans and wrinkled button down shirt. The young man was writing into a leather bound book, stopping occasionally to rest the pen in his mouth and look out at the water. Removing the pen from his mouth, the younger man closed his book, put his belongings away, and got up from the table. As he was walking away, Jordan noticed a picture slip from the bindings of the book, and fall to the floor. Seeing as how the young man hadn’t noticed, Jordan thought he would return the picture to him, got up from his table, retrieved the article, and followed suit. It took more than he thought to over take the younger man, he almost had to run in order to keep up with the huge paces.
When Jordan caught up with the other man, it didn’t take any words to explain what was happening. Jordan just held up the picture, and made a tiny gesture towards the book clasped in the younger one’s hand. Giving a slight nod, the young man took back his picture. Reopening the book, he flipped through its pages, stopping where it had been earlier placed, and lingered to look at the picture. Realising what the man was looking at, Jordan looked at the subject of the picture for the first time. The pictured was of a particularly beautiful woman, looking over her shoulder back at the camera. She had bright red hair, dark green eyes, and appeared to be taller than your average woman.
Detecting that he had stared a little longer than he should, the best Jordan could muster was a choked, “Pretty girl.”
The young man smiled, looking back down at his picture and said, “Isn’t she? This picture isn’t that great, I kind of wish I had taken more.”
Trying to be polite, Jordan continued by asking, “May I ask how old she is?”
“Twenty-four.” The young man replied.
“Is she a model?”
“No.” said the young man, “She is a waitress, and hates the whole idea of modeling. Her best friends would vouch for that!”
“I take it you two just met?”
“Right, almost a month ago.”
Chuckling slightly Jordan said, “Well, you had the sense enough to spend every available second with her I assume.”
“No actually, I couldn’t. I have a list to finish, and couldn’t stay there with her.”
Shocked by the young man’s statement, Jordan couldn’t help but ask, “What list?”
Almost like a reflex the young man again opened his book, stopping inside the front cover where a pocket had been sewn beneath the name Michael Samuelle. Thrusting two fingers into the pocket, he reemerged with a small folded piece of paper and handed it to his older counterpart. Jordan unfolded the list carefully, and read the lines to himself:
1) Win Dean’s Award at Oxford
2) Graduate top of my class
3) Finish novel within a year of graduation
4) Write three best selling novels before I turn thirty
5) Buy a new BMW
6) Become a professor at Yale
7) Backpack across the United States
8) Learn to fly a helicopter
9) Be nominated for a Noble Prize
He read through it quietly, folding it back when he was finished.
“What do you think?” asked Michael eagerly.
Unwilling to answer, Jordan asked a question of his own. “The lines through the numbers mean what I assume?”
“Yes, two down and seven to go. I got the Dean’s Award three years ago, graduated last spring, and am in the middle of numbers three and seven.” Michael said proudly, wondering what to attribute the older man’s sudden lack of emotion.
“How old were you when you made this list?” Ask Jordan.
“Nineteen.” Michael replied, following with, “You have to set these goals early.”
Giving a sympathetic nod, Jordan then asked, “What about the girl? What is her name?”
Surprised by the sudden change in topic, Michael stumbled out the word, “Jorja.”
Feeling slightly braver now, Jordan asked, “What made you decide to leave her?”
Michael had regained enough of his composure to answer, “I have to complete my list.”
Jordan considered the younger man’s words, then reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a tiny leather wallet. Inside there were pictures, credit cards, and a small, fragile looking piece of paper. Jordan unfolded the old piece of paper, stopping to read through the list himself. Once finished he handed the paper to Michael.
The young man’s eyes widened as he started down this new list. Unconsciously he began to read some of them out loud: “Graduate with honours from Princeton... Own a Bentley... Be knighted by the Queen... Walk the Great Wall of China... Become a multimillionaire by 35... Own a Picasso.” He looked back at Jordan with his mouth hanging open.
“I planned it out when I was 16.” Jordan said.
“And are the dates when you completed each?” Michael asked.
Jordan smiled.
“You still haven’t done the last one.”
“I know,” Jordan sighed, “That is why I wanted you to read my list. You see, I got to caught up with the others, I let my life take control, and it no longer seemed to matter.”
Michael just starred at the older man, when finally Jordon spoke again, “I was wondering if you could do it for me?”
Michael began to speak, but conceded to nodding.
Jordon began looking through his wallet, and pulled out a small white card. “This is my business card, once you complete the last one, I would greatly appreciate knowing about it.”
Michael nodded again, and the two men went their separate ways.
Nearly six months have passed since the two men met on the street. Jordon was sitting at home, reclining in a large wingback chair going through his mail. Amongst the regular collection of soliciting letters, there was one with the address written in pen. He decided to open this one first. The envelope contained a familiar looking piece of paper, which he opened with great care. Jordon took a deep breath, and then began to read. He quickly swept down the column of dates written in his hand writing, finally resting on the bottom date, he read aloud, “March 17th, 2003.” He looked at the task, the one he had not been able to complete himself, the task that was now crossed out, the task that read, “Marry for love.”