PURSUIT
CHAPTER 1 (b)
Scott McCain<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>Sunday…McCain Mansion…8:00am…1 December<o:p></o:p>
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McCain residence was not any play on words. It was gargantuan and glamorous. I wouldn’t like to give you any measurements, but I can help you imagine it. It was a white mansion with skillfully designed diaphanous windows. The mansion’s outlook was something like the 19th centaury’s castles. It looked like that the mansion’s architecture was that of a Spanish taste. The garden outside was as enormous as the mansion itself. Most of the trees and plants were planted by Mrs. McCain. After all, this was what she was best at. Maybe that was the reason why that nearly in every season the garden was filled with range of flowers.
Inside the mansion sat Mrs. McCain on a comfortable branded divan near the fireplace. Her eyes were glued on the television in front of her. It was so evident that there wasn’t even a bit that she wanted to let pass.
Young Scott came and sat next to his mother. It was a few years ago when Scott learned crawling and walking.
“Hello sweetheart.” Said Mrs. McCain with her eyes still glued on the TV.
Scott looked at the screen. He saw an unsightly wind storm on the screen which tore off the house from the ground. He quivered and looked at his mother again. “Mom, you know what?”
“What?”
“Today is my birthday,” he said cheerfully, “I am eight now.”
“Oh happy birthday!” she said as she hugged him.
“Thanks,” Scott tried to smile. Just like any other birthday, this one was also going to be the one with no friends, no surprise, and maybe no cake like other six birthdays. Scott knew what exactly her mother would ask next. “I was wondering to get a personal desktop, a play station portable and an Xbox 360.” He asked for things which a child can’t expect in one turn, especially when he is only eight years old.
When a child asks for such things at such a minor age usually parents say that, “Son wait for a while, this is not your age to get a personal desktop. May you should be satisfied with one play station.” Or other parents would take that as a shaggy dog story, but neither of the conditions was to be applied here.
“Oh, desktop is old stuff Scott. You should go and get a laptop for yourself,” Mrs. McCain tried to give an enhanced advice.
Hannah was a mother of three children in authenticity. Since she was slipshod and never realized her status as a mother the early two children of hers breathed their last breaths. Her first son passed away in a car accident while playing soccer with his friends at the age of nine. The second child, Sheila, suffered from anorexia nervosa and eventually departed this life. None of these events changed Hannah Harrison’s standard of living, she was still remained unchanged. She was a career devotee who loved lots of money and designed clothes. There was no concern about the children in her.
When Scott’s mother permitted him to have his personal laptop he was in high spirits. “I can?!” he asked unbelievingly.
“Of course Scott, you can,” said Mrs. McCain, “It’s your life.”
“Thank you, Mom”
It’s your life doesn’t mean that you make it horrible on the piles of lifeless luxury.
“When daddy will be back from office you can ask him for the gifts, okay?” said Mrs. McCain. “I’ll ask Jul to bring you a cake on this birthday, but remember that you mustn’t eat a lot of it.”
“Okay,” he took the book from the side table and started skimming it.
Mrs. McCain was too much of a health conscious. She wouldn’t want anyone getting large in her family at all. Especially her son.
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Sunday…McCain Mansion… 8:00pm… 1 December. <o:p></o:p>
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As the first doorbell rang the servant opened the door and Mr. McCain came in.
“Welcome, Sir,” said the servant as he took off Mr. McCain’s coat.
“Thank you” he said while loosening his tie.
“Darling, welcome back!” said Mrs. McCain as she hugged her dearest husband.
“Hi Daddy,” Scott said hugging both of his parents.
“Oh! Hello my sweetheart,” Mr. McCain kissed his son’s forehead.
“It’s my birthday,” Scott said in a very joyful voice.
“Oh! That’s great,” responded Mr. McCain, “Your Mommy told me about this on the phone. And, by the way, the cake is on its way. It will be here soon.”
This was not something that Scott was presuming. He wanted his father to ask how old he was now.
“I’m eight now,” He said in a low voice.
“Good, you’re growing up!” his father appreciated.
In a few moments the cake arrived and they all sat down on the table. This was the second time that there was a cake on Scott’s birthday.
“Be careful when you blow the candles,” The mother advised, “You might burn your hair.”
“Sure,” Scott didn’t bother about what his mother said. He was happy that she cared about something. “I was wondering that I could ask Russell to join us.”
“Dear, he may be busy or even sleeping,” his father refused on the dot.
Russell was Scott’s best friend. They were in the same school and even in the same class. Unlike Scott’s model like figure he was chubby and vivacious. He had an ebullient personality.
Russell himself liked hanging out with Scott. Russell belonged to Richardson family. Mr. Raymond Richardson, Russell’s father, was Mr. McCain’s good acquaintance too. They met each other on a business trip where from they became best friends. Both of the families were really good in terms.
Scott sliced the cake and offered it to his parents with his tiny hands.
“So what do you want on your birthday?” asked his father while having the cake.
“A laptop, play station portable, and an Xbox 360,” Scott responded in one go.
“Well then, you shall get these gifts,” said Mr. McCain. “It isn’t late yet; we can go out and get them.”
“Sweet!” Scott said all filled with joy.
After a while when their little party was over Scott went with his father to collect the gifts he wished for.
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