THE GENE POOL TAKES A VICTIM

THE GENE POOL TAKES A VICTIM

Mendel's Law of Heredity speaks of the genetic battle for dominance as it is fought among all species. Dominant and recessive genes roll the dice in a game of future survival. X & Y chromosomes await the results of a game of chance in which dominant genes overpower recessive ones at a rate of two to one. This Darwinian contest determines if a species is destined for dominance or extinction. When two people choose to marry there is a social Darwinism at work as well as the biological. Class structure is challenged and will evolve to accommodate the new social and genetic mix. The prospect of this type of evolution can be frightening and lonely.

THE PLUNGE

Love had been all consuming. Now, my moment had arrived to embrace the fringe benefits that were to enrich and deplete the rest of our lives. The engagement party was a formal affair at the Heather Hills Country Club, complete with white-gloved waiters and tuxedo-clad orchestra to regale us on the surrounding lawns of the Olympic sized pool. It was time for my initiation into the mysterious society of the afternoon martini and finger sandwich.

On this Sunday, assorted relations swarmed the poolside with Champagne glass in one hand and canapé dish balanced in the other. The revelers practiced a ritual, refined through the ages down to thirty seconds of small-talk served to relations or friends and circling counter-clockwise. By the time the Long Island sky faded to a deepening orange, all kin and acquaintances had been encountered and charmed.

The constant chatter and movement was a social chain reaction of increasing intensity directly proportional to the quantity of alcohol ingested. Family and friends whirred by with escalating frequency in a frenzied minuet of interchangeable names and faces of the forgotten or never met.

Feeling a little lost and overwhelmed, I looked for Michelle, my wife to be, who’d already been engulfed by the impenetrable mass. She was not to be found, I was unable to connect with a familiar face.

Seeking diversion, I noticed a forty foot diving tower at the opposite end of the pool. It seemed like a compelling escape from the suffocating circumstances that I lacked the sophistication or desire to contend with.

Eyes gazing toward the heavens, I gape in awe at the silhouetted structure. My left foot hesitantly gropes for the bottom rung of the ladder. On shaky legs, I climb unsteadily to new heights and look back at the party below. No one had noticed my disappearance or ascension.

Teetering on the diving platform, I cling to the side-rails in a vertiginous swoon. Without a second thought, I leap to a split-second descent of endless duration. Limbs askew, my arms flap wildly in a vain effort to steady the weightless limbo.

I tumble helplessly suspended in a contorted mazurka, descending with the anxious certainty of an impending impact. Muscles cringe, convulsed by the shock of water slapping my skin, stinging like a thousand needles and then numbed by submersion in the icy cool liquid that deepens my last breath. Slithering through the water effortlessly, I am invigorated and soothed by its chill. Fear is overcome by an overwhelming sensation of calm and safety. Wriggling to the tiled bottom of the pool, I rest below, feeling no urgency to surface or concern for what was beyond the rim. There, I float in contentment, peering through the bluish liquid pressing me down, the sunlight more a memory and this murky box my safe haven.

Lying on my back, I observe the sun as a distant red ball, the sounds of life deadened by the weight of the water. Human voices are transformed into clicks, echoes and eerie ghost-like howls, the music assuming the distorted, surreal tone of an ancient gramophone.

Slumberous visions of unending tranquility are beginning to weight my eyes and I sink further into a state of repose. Primal recollections, of similar sensations had before memory, hypnotically beckon to a deeper place of faint whispers drifting into even greater darkness.

Suddenly, circular shadows appear at the perimeter above. Startled by the unmistakable sounds of panic, I am instantly overcome by a gagging sensation that wrenches me from the trance and propels me toward the surface in quest for what my body now craves.

Bobbing in the air, with lungs paralyzed from temporary disuse, eyes tearing uncontrollably, I thrash my way to the nearest side. There, Michelle is waiting, hands outstretched, tears streaming down a worried red face. I struggle out with leaden legs and lay on the poolside panting.

"You had us all scared to death! What were you thinking? Don't you ever worry me like that again! What would I do if something happened to you?"

I am too breathless to answer. She takes silence as love and remorse. Searching my face, she finds all the right answers, to all the wrong questions. "Let's get you into some dry clothes. I think Daddy has a white dinner jacket in his locker! I always liked the way he looked in it."

“But I . . . “

“Don’t be silly . . .

. . . now you’ll look just like Daddy.”