The Tumours Made Me Interesting (18 page)

“Bullshit!”

“It’s true! I have no idea why you wanted to suck my tit and I have no fucking idea why I let you. I kinda wasn’t planning on telling you.”

Jerry and I stared at each other for some time. Awkward silence smothered us both. I let my mind drift away from Jerry, not wanting to linger any longer on his revelation. Without distraction, my body started kicking up a violent stink about the absence of nicotine. My body tensed and my tumours howled at invisible moons.

“I’m going to see my mother,” I yelled over the howling. “But first, can you drop me off at home? I need some cigarettes.”

My home had changed a lot in 12 hours. The burst pipe had now filled the apartment with a foot of water. Everyone was wading through it, refusing to acknowledge it as a hindrance. I shuffled my way through the lounge room, trying my best to avoid the numerous objects that floated past.

“I need cigarettes,” I said.

Within seconds, the Stotson’s, Arthur, Belinda and her mother were holding cigarettes within centimeters of my lips. I snatched them all and crammed them into my mouth. They each held their lighters up to ignite the godly sticks. It was like sucking on an exhaust pipe and the blast of smoke knocked me backward into the water. It was beautiful. Each cell in my body stretched in relaxation. The tumours fed like starving dogs, leeching every nutrient they could. My limp body slowly drifted in the water, knocking into things like a pinball. The ceiling rotated above me.

“Fiona’s going to be so pleased you're back,” said Rhonda. “She’s so excited.”

“Why’s that?”

“Don’t be a big silly! A tumour left your body, love. This is big news. It wasn’t very polite to leave like that without telling anyone, but I think the results were worth it.”

I flailed about in the water, trying to find my footing. I didn’t really feel like seeing Fiona at the moment. I desperately wanted to go and see my mother and having Fiona anywhere near me, was not wise.

“When is she coming over?” I asked.

“I just gave her a call,” said Vince. “She’ll probably be here in 15 minutes.”

I swore to myself and waded toward my bedroom. The burst pipe continued to spew water into the apartment, filling it bit by bit. It wouldn’t be long until it reached the ceiling. It wouldn’t be long until all my possessions were destroyed. The others weren’t terribly interested in leaving, almost like they were prepared to drown for no good reason. Belinda’s tuxedoed quail swam by, kicking its feet and billowing steam in little whistles. I motioned to pet it, but it snapped at my hand so I let it be.

All of my clothes were soaking wet. It almost wasn’t worth changing, but I wanted to look nice for mum. She used to knit me jumpers before she got sick. Each jumper bore the same basic design of a ninja turtle. They were poorly made, but I couldn’t part with them. The coarse wool she used always made my arms and neck break out in a painful rash. They were torture devices more than clothing, but I loved them. I imagined my mother’s able hands working the needles. These were important relics of my mother’s flirtation with health. I slid one of these jumpers over my head and felt the wool scratch at my skin.

I waded toward the front door.

“Where are you going in that dreadful jumper?” asked Arthur.

“It doesn’t matter where I’m going,” I replied. “I’ll be back soon. Just tell Fiona I had to pick something up from work.”

Arthur stood before me, pan flute in hand, gearing up to give me a performance.

“Look, my lad… don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t believe you. Where are you really going?”

The others joined Arthur and crowded around me, refusing my exit. Even Belinda seemed intent on stopping me.

“What are you guys doing? Let me out.”

“Fiona wouldn’t like that at all,” said Belinda’s mother.

“I don’t care what Fiona would like. I have a right to see my own fucking mother.”

I swore to myself again, absolutely livid that I let my true intentions slip so easily.

Vince approached me with a length of rope dangling in his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Bruce,” he said. “I think you know full well that we can’t let you do that. It goes completely against the rules.”

They all restrained me as Vince slipped the rope behind my back. I fought against it, but my physical deterioration was such that the fight was fruitless. Regret danced about their faces as they manoeuvred me into a chair. Arthur contained my arms while Rhonda worked on my legs. Vince wrapped the rope around and around until it squeezed me like a hug from grandma. Belinda climbed on my lap and placed a lit cigarette between my lips, which I sucked upon gratefully. The coils of smoke stung my eyes as it rotated toward the ceiling.

“I don’t understand how you could do this to me,” I said. “We’re like family.”

The cigarette fell from my mouth and rolled down my chest before landing with a fizz in the water.

“It’s quite simple,” said a calm, familiar female voice.

Fiona was standing over me with that slight grin I’d come to know and dread. The others left my side and stood behind her like she was the leader of something I didn’t understand.

“The tumours have reached an evolutionary stage I didn’t dare hope for, Bruce,” she said. “By leaving your body they have shown a propensity for autonomy. The tumours aren’t yours, Bruce. You merely incubated them. You’re little more than an environment.”

“What does this have to do with my mother?”

She remained silent for some time. The sound of splashing water infused the silence with anxiety and foreboding.

“Your mother loves you too much, Bruce and you love her. Her positive influence over you wasn’t good for the tumours. She wants you to be well. Every thought is of your wellbeing. She can’t understand how important your ability to grow the illness is because she’s blinded by love. You’re a weak man. You’d fall victim to this, just as you fell victim to me.”

The part of me that wanted to escape was being beaten into submission by the part of me that wanted to hide. My vision had devolved into blinking pastel blurs. I tried closing my eyes, but they were like broken blinds and just kept springing back open. The tumours were barking and screaming, trying to get my attention.

“Your friends here are good people, Bruce. They care for you in a way that allows your gift to flourish. Your body is an amazing vessel. They seem to understand that better than you.”

“I don’t want to die,” I said meekly.

Fiona took several quick steps toward me and slapped me hard across the face. I felt teeth dislodge and tumble down my throat.

“You’re ego is incredible!” she screamed. “This is so far beyond you now! Disease will exist irrespective of your desire to thwart it. Nobody ever thinks of the illness. Nobody ever considers its hunger to survive. Up until now, our illnesses have had to live in symbiosis with a host – hopelessly reliant. You have helped break that necessity. The illness you have grown longs to live independently. Think of how many lives could be saved if the illness no longer needed a host.”

I tongued the blood on my gums as Fiona’s words stabbed at me. Her true colours were infinite shades of black. The tumours made
me
interesting, I didn’t make
them
interesting. But without me, the tumours would be nothing. I was their owner, not Fiona.

“You can’t have them,” I said.

Fiona’s laughter flew from her mouth like bats, squeaking and smothering me in condescension.

“That’s where you’re quite wrong, Bruce. The tumours have started to leave your body. It won’t be long until they’ve all externalised. You’re not going anywhere until I have them. You’re not strong enough to leave, and even if you were, you’re too much of a coward.”

I wanted to refute her words, but they were true. I was a coward. I’d never been anything else. It would be easier for me to stay here until the tumours had left me, which is why it was probably going to be the outcome.

The water had passed my waist now and my legs had shriveled into prunes. I tried to kick against my bonds, but the pain this caused was too much. I studied my arms. All the fat had deteriorated and all that remained was skin-wrapped bone.

“What if I die before the tumours leave?” I asked with vague defiance.

“I’m certainly not above slicing you open,” came her swift reply.

“No, no no!” cried Rhonda. “We never discussed cutting him open. We musn’t do that.”

“We’ll do what we have to do, honey,” replied Vince, comforting his wife with a hug. “This is more important than all of us.”

Rhonda’s height was such that the water was already licking at her chin. Her discomfort was palpable, but she remained silent about the inconvenience.

“Come on,” said Arthur. “Let’s all go to another room and have a nice cup of Earl. Let’s give poor Bruce some time to himself.”

Everyone, including Fiona, followed Arthur’s suggestion and I was left alone. I could hear them squabbling amongst themselves, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. The residual echo of Fiona’s words bounced around my head, obscuring my ability to think. I toyed with the idea of an escape plan, but my innate powers of self-deprecation made this an impossible prospect. I thought about my mother and the hopelessness she must be feeling. It didn’t matter how amazing the care Fiona was providing for her was… it wasn’t the same as the loving care only a son can provide. I’d abandoned her.

Nausea wrenched me awake some hours later. I sat in darkness, the ropes chewing into me without mercy. Diluted artificial light spilled into my apartment through the curtains, illuminating the water just enough for it to look like tar. It was sloshing against my nipples and rising steadily. I tried bucking against the ropes once more, but the pain was even more intense than before. I slumped my head forward in defeat. A vomitous string of drool oozed from my mouth, refusing to break free despite trying to sever it with my teeth. I had become so intimately familiar with my bodily excretions. It was like a barometer, letting me know how I was. I had stopped being disgusted by it a long time ago. The first time I saw blood in the toilet bowl, the fear of human waste that society instills in us disappeared. So much of life is shit, piss and vomit. The waste itself is no way near as disgusting as our urge to run away from it.

I felt something with substantial mass bump into me. The darkness made it hard to decipher and I had to train my gaze for some time before any detail came into focus. It was a body, floating facedown in the water. The tumours kicked and my throat tightened.
Who was it?
The body was small. Logically it had to be Belinda or Rhonda. The thought was repulsive. Even with their allegiance to Fiona, I couldn’t stand the thought of harm coming to either of them. My stomach churned like a washing machine, displacing my interior fortitude. Something big in my throat was rising, cutting off my oxygen supply. I hacked, trying to bring it up, but it was too large. It was moving on its own. I’d have to wait and hopefully not pass out in the process. The body kept knocking against me with morbid rhythm. The object rising in my throat had caused my neck to expand. Despite the darkness, all I could see was white light. The veins in my forehead were jutting out so far I could see them in my periphery. When I was sure consciousness was about to leave me, I painfully coughed up the object. I heard it splash and flail in the water somewhere in front of me. Oxygen spilled into my lungs, causing more pain than relief.

The object I’d coughed swam toward me. I knew it was a tumour and kept expecting Fiona to lie in wait. The tumour mounted me and slowly climbed my torso. I could feel it on my shoulder like a pirate’s parrot. It pressed itself against my ear.

“Thank you,” it whispered. “You’ve been so good to us.”

“Help me,” I found myself saying.

“Of course,” it said.

It rolled into the water above my lap and swam for the rope. It splashed around like a piranha, chewing and tearing. I remained still, hoping that I wasn’t experiencing a dream. The rope around my wrists broke free. I clenched my fist to stimulate the flow of blood and watched the helpful tumour swim down toward my feet until it was lost in darkness. As the last of the rope fell away, I wanted to cry in relief, but I knew I was in danger of waking Fiona. The tumour swam back to the surface and I scooped it up. I held it before my face and studied it.