"Джон Чивер. The swimmer (Пловец, англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

one-two of a nutter kick. It was not a serviceable stroke for long distances
but the domestication of swimming had saddled the sport with some customs
and in his part of the world a crawl was customary. To be embraced and
sustained by the light green water was less a pleasure, it seemed, than the
resumption of a natural condition, and he would have liked to swim without
trunks, but this was not possible, considering his project. He hoisted
himself up on the far curb-he never used the ladder-and started across the
lawn. When Lucinda asked where he was going he said he was going to swim'
home.
The only maps and charts he had to go by were remembered or imaginary but
these were clear enough. First there were the Grahams, the Hammers, the
Lears, the Howlands, and the Crosscups. He would cross Ditmar Street to the
Bunkers and come, after a short portage, to the Levys, the Welchers, and the
public pool in Lan- caster.* Then there were the Hallorans, the Sachses, the
Biswangers, Shirley Adams, the Gil- martins, and the Clydes. The day was
lovely, and that he lived in a world so generously supplied with water
seemed like a clemency, a beneficence. His heart was high and he ran across
the grass. Making his way home by an uncommon route gave him the feeling
that he was a pilgrim, an explorer, a man with a destiny, and he knew that
he would find friends all along the way; friends would line the banks of the
Lucinda River.
He went through a hedge that separated the Westerhazys' land from the
Grahams', walked under some flowering apple trees, passed the shed that
housed their pump and filter, and came out at the Grahams' pool. "Why,
Neddy," Mrs. Graham said, "what a marvelous surprise. I've been trying to
get you on the phone all morning. Here, let me get you a drink." He saw
then, like any explorer, that the hospitable customs and traditions of the
natives would have to be handled with diplomacy if he was ever going to
reach his destination. He did not want to mystify or seem rude to the
Grahams nor did he have the time to linger there. He swam the length of
their pool and joined them in the sun and was rescued, a few minutes later,
by the arrival of two carloads of friends from Connecticut.* During the up-
roarious reunions he was able to slip away. He went down by the front of the
Grahams' house, stepped over a thorny hedge, and crossed a vacant lot to the
Hammers'. Mrs. Hammer, looking up from her roses, saw him swim by although
she wasn't quite sure who it was. The Lears heard him splashing past the
open windows of their living room. The Howlands and the Crosscups were away.
After leaving the Rowlands' he crossed Ditmar Street and started for the
Bunkers', where he could hear, even at that distance, the noise of a party.
The water refracted the sound of voices and laughter and seemed to suspend
it in midair. The Bunkers' pool was on a rise and he climbed some stairs to
a terrace where twenty-five or thirty men and women were drinking. The only
person in the water was Rusty Towers, who floated there on a rubber raft. Oh
how bonny and lush were the banks of the Lucinda River! Prosperous men and
women gathered by the sapphire-colored waters while caterer's men in white
coats passed them cold gin. Overhead a red de Haviland trainer* was circling
around and around and around in the sky with something like the glee of a
child in a swing. Ned felt a passing affec- tion for the scene, a tenderness
for the gathering, as if it was something he might touch. In the distance he
heard thunder. As soon as Enid Bunker saw him she began to scream: "Oh look