Daphne Takes A Shit
I sip my water and
look outside. It is beautiful. The sun has just peaked over the horizon and is
lighting up the lake in front of the patio in dozens of colors. The lake is
surrounded by mountains on all four sides and everything but the patio and the
area behind is still covered in dark.
Daphne whimpers
while sniffing something on the floor, leaving a trail of drool on the floor
behind her. She bumps into my hand and licks it. The plastic jar of treats in
on the table, in front of me and to the right. I put my glass down, take the
lid off and grab a couple. She pants into my hand as I feed her one.
We take the creaky
stairs on the left. They lead into the backyard. It’s as decrepit as the cabin
itself. There is a small fence that surrounds the area, perhaps 15 feet in
diameter. I could never realize how the owners planted the fence so as to make
the area a perfect circle with Daphne’s favorite place to take a shit right in
the middle.
She eyes me
reproachfully as my alarm goes off while she is squatting and I quickly shut it
off. It’s 6:30. I light up a cigarette and look away, admiring the sunrise
through the thick brushes surrounding the backyard and the patio.
Once she is done I
consider scooping things up, but put the baggie inside my pocket - let the
earth embrace it. Nobody comes here except for Daphne anyway.
We go back onto the
patio and out the door onto the beach. It’s not hot but she is wearing a thick
coat so she is already whizzing, while pulling me forward, towards the lake.
It’s shallow and perhaps a mile long and quarter a mile wide. I have waded
through it before and it never went above the waist. It was refreshing not to
be afraid of drowning. Daphne paddled by my side, as if to encourage me.
We walk eastward on
the beach towards the rising sun. On the left there are several hotels and
private residences that appeared out of the blue over the past couple of the
years. They were built right in front of the mountains, right in front of the
beach. It’s the same story on the other side of the lake. Only the east part is
unspoiled, where the lake stops a few dozen feet away from where the rocks
start, and the west part, where the cabin hides the solitary road into the area
behind itself.
We pass by McCormick
- a three story building with an angular roof painted dark red. It’s a bread
and breakfast and I hear Daphne has a boyfriend there. She stops a few hundred
feet away and sniffs the air for a bit. Then sneezes. The mountain behind the
McCormick is a tangly mess with rocks protruding every which way they desire.
McCormick’s roof is almost in a shadow.
We reach the
easternmost point and sit down on the beach which is mostly flat rocks here. I
put my feet in the water and Daphne lies down next to me. I give her another
treat and she pants gratefully.
Todd lives at
McCormick. He must be the caretaker - every time I visit he is here. On this
exact spot, his feet in the water, admiring the sun rays shooting forward,
towards our cabin, the road behind it, hugging the mountains, drowning
everything in light. I give Todd a cigarette and light up my own. We rarely
speak. In fact Daphne makes more noise than both of us combined. But this
morning things feel different.
I breathe in
heavily. The air smells fresh, crisp, electrified. Todd smirks and points
toward the mountains on our right, behind the McCormick, behind the dark red
roof.
“Watch” - he says. I
see a small rock, it’s hard to judge from the distance, but it does seem small,
break away from the top of the mountain, roll down, bounce of the side of the
mountain and land a few feet away from the lake.
“Just. Watch.” - he
inhales deeply and smirks again as a much larger rock starts rolling down,
almost comically slow, dislodging other, much larger rocks, until a whole avalanche
is rolling down, covering, destroying McCormick and the building next to it,
wiping everything in their way, smashing into the lake and causing waves speed
our way. Daphne whimpers and jumps up as the water approaches but it only
grazes us. As I light up another cigarette, the three buildings, all painted
ugly yellow, next to the ruble that was once Todd’s residence slowly go down in
a heap. It looked like an earthquake in a very slow motion - you could paint
the building something else and watch the paint dry while kicking a few beers
back before you saw them hit the ground.
Daphne wails and
then snarls as the final two on our right collapse. I look to the building on
the left and start feeling uneasy.
Todd asks me for
another cigarette and thanks with a smirk. “You. Just. Watch.”
Daphne is in a full
blown panic, stomping on the rocks, hopping up and down and howling towards the
mountains.
“You coming?” I ask
Todd. He springs on the the right side of the beach, through rocks, through
rubble, through water, and I sprint after him, a shaggy sheepdog wailing
behind, trying to catch up. We run like there is no tomorrow and on our left,
across the lake, the remainder of this lakeside community gives way.
That was the longest
mile I ever ran, but when we burst onto the patio Todd’s cigarette was barely
touched and he was breathing evenly. He poured himself a glass of water and
pointed to the road behind the cabin. He didn’t have to explain himself. I put
Daphne on the leash, grabbed some treats out of the jar and we half trotted,
half sprinted down the road. Half a mile away was a bridge that led off the
island. That was my plan, I didn’t know what Todd was thinking, nor did I
care.
Daphne was never in
a good shape but when the rest of the mountains behind us started collapsing
she let out a yell that sounded like she was surprised and sprinted past us,
dragging me after her, almost making me face plant on the road. She only
stopped by the bridge to sniff it suspiciously before gingerly walking forward.
We were almost half way through it when it gave way and the island behind us
plummeted down pulling the back portion of the bridge with it. I grabbed onto
the railing, trying to hold onto the 30 pounds of shaggy dog that was slipping
through my fingers, yelping in horror. As the bridge crossed the 45 degree mark
Todd started sliding down slowly. “Watch”, he smirked as he disappeared in the
disastrous mixture of water, steel and rock. Daphne slipped and followed him
shortly after - her hazelnut eyes, barely visible behind the gray and white
coat, filled with horror, as she desperately tried to paddle back up the
surface that was bending upwards.
One must think that
once a direction is chosen and the circumstances are set to make that direction
nigh impossible to diverge from, one must have one last attempt to correct that
sinking ship. But who is that person to question the decision that was made by
that same person, on that person’s own behalf? Can that person correct the
things that lead to that decision? Can amends be made?
My hands hurt. We
are almost at 90 degrees now. I let one hand go, fish out my pack of
cigarettes, put one cigarette in my mouth and light it up. Then my other hand
opens up.
I sip my water and
look outside. It is beautiful. The sun is still hidden behind the mountains and
everything around looks dark, silent, peaceful.
Daphne whimpers
while sniffing something on the floor, leaving a trail of drool on the floor
behind her. She bumps into my hand and licks it. I pat her head and scratch her
under the chin. Her brown tangled hair reminds me to make a mental note to
brush her later today. She has a bag of treats on the table on my left. I put
my glass down and grab a couple. She pants into my hand as I feed her
one.
We take the creaky
stairs on the right. The lead into the backyard. It’s as decrepit as the cabin
itself. It’s just a small fence that surrounds an area, perhaps 15 feet in
diameter. I could never realize how the owners planted the fence so as to make
the area a perfect circle with Daphne’s favorite place to take a shit right in
the middle.
She eyes me
reproachfully as my alarm goes off while she is squatting and I quickly shut it
off. It’s 5:30. I light up a cigarette and look away.
It’s almost time to
meet up with Matt.
