Kamit Savay

Страна : США

Я работаю в компании “Hopelink”, пишу уже , лет и опубликовал 3 книги

Country : USA

I working for company “Hopelink” and started writing 6 years ago, published 3 books

Отрывок из малой прозы “Fence”


There are no fences between suburban houses in America. The affluent ménages do that. Houses welcome you directly without fences, but some Americans drive cars into the garages and enter their houses. The backyards are separated by dwarf flowering shrubs of Nightglow, Roses, Flare, Bella Bellissima and North Pole, Purple Smoke Bushes, Dogwood with Elegance. There are sometimes small fences around houses. Cameras are detected in every house. No need for fences. Americans like their privacy. “My home is my castle.“, they say. It is a cultural thing. If you dare to breach one’s privacy even if you are warned of that, you may have severe consequences. You will be eaten alive by the American acts of privacy….. oh God. 

There is a very interesting story behind the fence. Reference to living people or real events is purely coincidental. 

We had a friend Jessica, who bought a house in Sammamish. It was a small hill town. From the hilltop there were splendid views over the surrounding forest; you could also see the lake. We visited her once. Jessica was not married and her sister-friend lived with her.

It was teatime on the terrace. We saw a wonderful garden; water was falling one meter and it proved once again to be one of Earth’s most alluring natural wonders. There was a chair to sit on. The perfect waterfall vista relaxed all, the fresh splash of water and pure majesty of nature were worth spending an entire day, period, life there. Water was running near the neighbor’s garden and there was a small path through the edge of it. 

Teatime was amusing. 
Jessica asked Linda: 
“Let’s have some sweet-stuff. Will you have some honey?” Linda was bursting with laughter. It confused us. Why should she laugh on honey? 
Jessica probably knew the secret of her guffaw. 
She was giggling too:

– “Lets taste some. Haha. But I am kinda nervous.” 
I thought it was rotting honey. 
“Lets have some, really good honey doesn’t go bad.” I offered my expertise.
“Better throw it to garbage tomorrow. I am afraid it is kinda spoiled.”, Jessica said being a bit tense.
“You scare all. Your honey is scary. You do get rid of it.” suggested Linda. 
I was shocked. I didn’t have a clue what was happening.
“It is a long story.” explained Jessica 
“Is that as old as the hills?”, I asked impatiently. 
“Oh no, it is not that old.. Let me tell the story.” exclaimed Jessica showing a jar of 3.17 lbs honey.
“Let me taste some.” I suggested.
“Oh no, please do not.” insisted Jessica being alarmed. She continued to tell her story.

When we bought this house, we met our neighbor, Melissa, who was much older than us. She had a daughter who lived with her who remains at the house. 

Once Mellissa paid a housewarming visit to us. During our talk she assumed that we were lucky to buy this house.
“We were friendly with the ex-door neighbors (past neighbors). I would love to sit next to your water-fall. You are also warmly welcome to our home.”, Melissa declared. 
However, we never went to see them and they never invited us. 

I always noticed how Melissa was walking between the two backyards, and she was entering our property and stopping near the waterfall to gaze at it. Then she returned to her house. I was irritated by her invasion of my privacy. I did not like her walking into my garden or her gazing at the waterfall. 

I was going to ask if she could leave my place, but I avoided being impudent. I was the new resident. Sometimes when a ray of sunshine shone through blue sky I had  a strong desire to sit next to the waterfall. But Melissa was resting her lower body on the chair next to the waterfall, while staring off into space.. … She would disappear at seeing me. 
The waterfall site became my awfully cherished and treasured place to be. I also could read a book while spending hours and hours there. That time Melissa did not dare to come to my 
paradise on earth.
For me she seemed to have some deep mystery. Melissa seemed to be strange, cryptic and unearthly mystical for me. Her silence signified some latent sadness; she was subdued by some undisclosed loneliness. However, she could warmly greet us, she gave the impression of being a soft and kind woman. 

We were busy at work from morning till night. I guessed that Melissa stayed at home; I judged that she had some health issues. Someone should be careful with her. I thought she might have a mental ailment. 

On one of my drives commuting to work, I saw houses surrounded by high fences. Suddenly, Mellissa came to mind right away. What if I separate my house by a fence? Was that a good idea?

Mellissa will no longer invade my place. If the fence was to be ordered, the oral approval of all the neighbors was a must. I supposed that Melissa would not accept it. Alas!
I told her one day while meeting her at the gateway. She was dreadfully silent, ignoring the topic. I was assuming that she did not like the idea. Her visits to my territory decreased a certain percentage.

One day Mellissa sent a freshly baked pie to us. Her daughter brought it. She was in her mid-twenties and she was as quiet as her mum. She was a full figured, buxom girl. This girl had something slow in her manner of walking. After eating Melissa’s pie we got sick the very next day. We thought that the bacteria of the pie caused some kind of food born illness. 

“Mellissa cursed you. She called the devil for diarrhea.”, Linda was laughing.

Later, I started my fence installation campaign. The two next-door neighbors signed an agreement immediately. I was shy to bother Mellissa for a long while. She resumed her visits to the waterfall; her stay lasted for a long time. I informed her about my fence issue and she approved it without any protest, which shocked me. I thought she would never agree.

Her daughter brought a jar of honey that evening. Linda warned me about the possible danger caused by the honey: “Let’s not eat it. Pie bacteria was not that bad, but this time bacteria, virus and parasites of this honey may kill us!”

The fence company employees started the installation the next week. I witnessed how Mellissa was watching at the fence. She was 64.1 inches tall woman, with blond hair; her face was fading and her worn clothes made her look disheveled. She stood while crossing her arms, she seemed to be thinking about something significant. I felt that she was experiencing some kind of worry, unease, or nervousness about the imminent event of fence construction. Her daughter was not seen. The fence workmen finished installation that day. No ‘know how’ technology was needed for this job. 

The backyard was isolated now. Mellissa’s house showed its roof only. When I would see Mellissa she was silent; the other neighbors thanked me for the new infrastructure. Linda had an awful, intense pleasure of happiness; she could not hide her euphoria of not seeing Mellissa anymore. However, I was not happy. My heart filled with remorse and guilt. I felt sorry for Mellissa. There was some contradiction between my heart and my action. Some second implicit feeling agreed with Linda. Mellissa will not disturb us again. Home is a shelter from invasion – all sorts of invasions. An American man’s home is his castle. 
Linda threw away Mellissa’s jar of honey. That was the end of the ‘Mellissa’ issue. We forgot her gradually, sometimes we talked about her. One day I met her daughter a month or two after the fence was complete.

I asked about Mellissa:
“Is your mother okay? Long time no see.”
“She passed away.” said her daughter.
“Oh, I am sorry for your loss. Rest in peace.” I was embarrassed.
“Was she sick? Too bad. Too sad.”
“No, she was not. She took to her bed last time I visited her. Ambulance was kinda late. The doctors diagnosed some poisoning, that caused lethality. Medicals claim that it needs to be studied as a clinical case.” 
The daughter’s information was shocking. 
Did she make suicide? I stopped being curious. I said good bye to her.
Linda was shocked too. 
She said: – May be the fence became the reason of her death? She loved the waterfall sounds. 
-Maybe, maybe not, my hypothesis was.

Days passed and turned into years. Once I met Mellissa’s daughter. She started the dialogue with me abruptly:
“Do you know that my mom committed suicide after your fence installation. I do not blame you in her death. I just still remember that she adored the waterfall. You knew that, right? She was sick. Her mental disorder was increasing over time. She hated hospitals and never followed doctors’ advice. She and my father met and spent triumph of love near your waterfall. The waterfall witnessed their true love. My dad died accidentally out of some ailment when I was still a child. Rumors were that he died near the water fall. I did not want to embarrass you. I am sorry.”

I wanted to have some relief. 

I stood at the waterfall imagining the life of Mellissa………

Waterfall, love and Mellissa.

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