Cancer

by Paul Kavanagh

 

It was as though Civilization was collapsing around them. This is how it must have been in Athens or Rome. There had been no sweeping apocalypse, the barbarians didn't suddenly appear at the door and slaughter the whole family. Each neighbor found out at various times in the day. Workmen appeared and worked topless in the scorching sun. Their brown torsos gleamed against the green of the grass. It took them an astonishing three days to dig a big whole and fill it with a modern swimming pool. At the sight of undulating waters the neighbors were perturbed, some were aghast, none were impassive.

Come to think of it, the collapse is more like cancer. It starts with an incongruous blot. But the blot propagates and infests the rest of the body, the marrow, the bones, the tissue, and the muscles. Even this collapse is slow.

Doctor Glass had informed no neighbor of his plan of having a swimming pool installed. All were taken aback. Crystal Lake was a verdant idyllic subdivision, the best in the town, the houses had to be built with brick, they all had to be a specific size. The grass had to be watered and mowed daily. To keep the grass green was a battle that raged on and on. The southern sun was unrelenting. My phone was perpetually ringing. Nobody went against the covenant. The covenant was everything.

Everybody went to church; we were in the Bible belt, well that's what my wife said. Some went twice a week. My wife and I also went to church, but we went to the Catholic Church. I also owned a dog. After work or reading I would sit upon the front porch and drink a beer while the crickets chirped. Now and again I would wave as one of the neighbors drove past. My wife was making the money. She was a lawyer; it was because of her that we suddenly found ourselves in a small town on the periphery of Charlotte. She commuted daily. We couldn't afford to live in the city.

What do you think of the pool? asked Mr. Smith.

I wish I could get in it now, it is hot, I answered.

Mr. Smith huffed and walked off into the darkness. I did not give the right answer. From Vico to this.

Mr. Smith was the one that always reminded you that your grass was dying. He was always the one to indicate that it was time to mow. He saw everything. I once facetiously called him omnipresent. Nobody laughed. He had just had a tumor removed.

On weekends the Glass family swam and had fun. They grilled chicken, steak and sweet corn. The Glass family was from the North. They had two little girls, they giggled a lot and were vivacious. They paid little attention to the phone that perpetually rang. They swam and lay by the pool and soaked up the sun.

Your grass is dying at the side of your house, said Mr. Smith.

I thanked him and finished my beer. From Spengler to this. I went inside and put the dog on its chain. Mr. Smith was still outside. It was as though he had been waiting for me. The dog barked until it recognized Mr. Smith. Affability was not Mr. Smith's strong point.

The Glass family needs to cover up, said Mr. Smith.

I was walking down the steps. I had to basically drag the dog.

You can't swim in your clothes, I said.

Nowhere in the covenant does it say you can have a pool, he said.

I don't know, I've never read the covenant, I said.

I hope you are going to scoop up the turds, he said.

I wasn't planning on it, I said.

Around us were woods, wild lands, but plots were being sold off quickly and new houses were appearing overnight. There was an invasion of doctors and lawyers from the North. The likes of Mr. Smith were being driven out. The grass was dying around them, trees were being cut down and swimming pools were suddenly appearing.

I was the first here, blurted out Mr. Smith incongruously.

His anger was palpable. I made sure to walk in the opposite direction.

The phone rang. It was Mr. Smith. He informed me that the Glass family had poured concrete over half of their lawn. I put the phone down and walked out onto my front porch. I drank a beer and saluted the encroachment of grey. I did not realize how much I abhorred the grass, the smell, the green, the onerous task of mowing.

Can you believe it? expectorated Mr. Smith.

I'm thinking about doing the same, I said.

I could not hear his vitriol. Mr. Smith fled in fright it seemed to me. I laughed and watched the night devour him.

Another swimming pool appeared. I didn't know the family's name. They lived in a cul de sac that was shaded by trees. To install the swimming pool a lot of trees had to be removed.

It's like cancer, screamed Mr. Smith.

He knew all about cancer. Crimson flooded his brown skin. The skin was pulled taut over his cheekbones and nose. His thin lips trembled and his eyes were murky.

These people haven't got time to mow lawns, plus it's too hot, soon it will be all concrete and good riddance to the grass, I said.

I had drank one too many. It was a full moon and the humidity was mitigating sleep. I could not even walk the dog. The crickets chirped obstreperously and somebody was doing laps in the Glass' swimming pool.

Do you know how they cure cancer? asked Mr. Smith.

They cut it out, I said.

That's correct, said Mr. Smith.

The problem I have with drinking too much beer is that I always wake up in the middle of the night with a pounding head and a desiccated mouth. I looked over my sleeping wife and saw that it was only eleven fifteen. I surreptitiously climbed out of the bed. I went to the fridge got myself another beer and filled a glass with ice. I went outside. I did not want to wake up my wife. It was a beautiful night, a myriad of stars coruscated and the moon was full.

I got a third beer. I did not bother with ice. It was still humid but I wanted to keep the noise down. I sat on the steps and watched the water softly undulate in the electric light. To the sound of crickets chirping I sauntered over to the Glass' fence. I climbed ineptly over the fence and dived into the pool. The water awoke me from my lethargy. The heat, the dullness of alcohol dissipated. At first I floated and allowed the cool undulations to ripple over me. Looking up into the night sky I had no thoughts of the Glass family. Next I began to swim as though I was indefatigable. I found myself incongruously effervescent and chilled; I was no longer worrying about grass, money, the dog, the encroachment of grey concrete and Mr. Smith with his damn telephone.

You're a cancer!

I never felt the first bullet penetrate me. I never even heard the gun shot. I swam to the side and looked up. There standing above me was Mr. Smith. I looked at the object in his hand with perplexity. The second shot went through my cheek. The bullet dislodged a number of teeth and exited through the other cheek. Through the water I saw Mr. Smith aim the gun at me a third time, but this time he did not pull the trigger. A look of astonishment appeared upon his face.

Eventually all Civilizations crumble, it is inevitable. In time they are buried and trampled upon by the living. Some are forgotten in time. Civilizations vanish but people still water and mow their lawns. You wake up one morning and instinctively carry on as though nothing has happened. The bullets passed through me. I carried on; I watered and mowed my lawn. The swimming pool was drained but Doctor Glass refilled it and the family carried on. Mr. Smith never saw his day in court. Cancer got him. It was quick. They picked him up and took him straight to the hospital. They didn't even bother with handcuffs. It was prostate cancer. His family paid one visit and sold off his house and land. The family that bought the property pulled down the house and built a bigger home. Next to the house they installed a swimming pool.

© 2006 Paul Kavanagh