Falconer+-+John+Cheever

Falconer 111
daughter of Ling Chou Lai, president of the Viaduct Wire Factory,
where the groom was employed. There was nothing more and
Farragut wanted nothing more. He laughed loudly, but not
DiMatteo, who said angrily, “He promised to wait for me. I saved
his life and he promised to wait for me. He loved me—oh, God,
how he loved me. He gave me his golden cross.” DiMatteo lifted
the cross out of the curls on his chest and showed it to Farragut.
Farragut’s knowledge of the cross was intimate—it may have
borne his tooth marks—and his memories of his lover were vivid,
but not at all sad. “He must have married her for her money,” said
DiMatteo. “She must be rich. He promised to wait for me.”
Farragut’s mowing of the lawn was planned. Roughly halfway
around the circumference of the lawn he reversed his direction so
the grass, as it fell, would not heap, dry and discolor. He had heard
or read somewhere that cut grass fertilized living grass, although
he had observed that dead grass was singularly inert. He walked
barefoot because he got better purchase with the soles of his naked
feet than he did in prison-issue boots. He had knotted the laces of
his boots and hung them around his neck so they wouldn’t be
stolen and cut into wrist-watch straps. The contrite geometry of
grass-cutting pleased him. To cut the grass one followed the
contour of the land. To study the contour of the land—to read it
as one did on skis—was to study and read the contour of the
neighborhood, the county, the state, the continent, the planet, and
to study and read the contour of the planet was to study and read
the nature of its winds as his old father had done, sailing catboats
and kites. Some oneness was involved, some contentment.
When he had finished the big lawn he pushed the mower back to
the garage. “They got a riot at The Wall,” said the Killer, stooped
above a motor and speaking over his shoulder. “It come over the
radio. They got twenty-eight hostages, but it’s that time of year.
Burn your mattress and get your head broken. It’s that time of
year.”