The Curse of Curing Cancer Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

“Have you seen Mr Pervis lately?”
Now there was an unusual sentence, you didn’t hear that very often. They had noticed that, over the past week, Jackson Pervis had ceased to exist which was impressive because it should they had noticed that he existed in the first place. Furthermore, this very strongly hinted that this person might even care about him, a little bit at least. But who was this person? Why did she care? And why was she talking to a heavily pregnant Anna Watson.
“Mr Pervis?” questioned Anna, “who?”
“Mr Pervis! Jackson Pervis who works for the postal service. You hand him his letters every day.”
“Oh, I thought he was called Brian. Yeah he got fired a week ago.”
“He got fired?! Why?”
“I don’t know, just heard he got fired really, oh no, I don’t need a receipt.”
“Ok, have a nice day Mrs Watson, lovely chatting!” said Tessa as she waved her out of the shop.
This was not good, Tessa could feel that for certain. It was Thursday and it was approaching 8pm. Mr Pervis always came in at 5:30pm, without fail, on a Thursday to buy the same seven meals for £12.50 and now it was 8pm and no Mr Pervis. Up until 6pm she had put it down to a busy day. At 7pm she had started to worry about him and now it was 8pm she couldn’t rid her head of the question: “Where on earth was Mr Pervis.” This is what you get after you establish a routine year after year, even if that routine was designed to avoid the vast majority of people. One person had noticed him.
Tessa Bailey had an idea, she thought this was a very good idea indeed.

Jackson Pervis realised that, as he had no food, he really ought to kill himself before he got hungry. He’d slept half the day away and when he’d awoken he’d considered getting dressed but had decided he didn’t mind dying in his pyjamas, it was no great ceremony. He had decided it was only decent to shower though, he was feeling a little grotty. He allowed himself far more than his normal ration of shampoo, he’d splashed it on rather frivolously actually; waste not want not. He’d then set about deciding on the method of his demise. He really didn’t want to cause a seen or make a mess to that put jumping from a height or stepping in front of a train out of the mix. He’d heard it was impractical, bordering on impossible, to drown yourself or cut your own throat, besides they both sounded like they may take an awful long time. He didn’t have a gun to shoot himself, he didn’t have lighter fuel to burn himself, he didn’t even have a knife sharp enough to slit his wrists. He thought briefly about whether to alert the police so they could come round and sort everything out before he started to stink out the place but he’d concluded that they really were rather busy.
Eventually, he had settled on tying a few of his ties together securely and then tying one end onto a banister and the other end into a noose. He then went about setting the scene. He was hanging himself in the dining room but he wanted the eye to drawn to the cure of cancer so he’d placed that on a table in between himself and the hallway door. He’d drawn a sign in no less than capital letter and an exceedingly loud red was the message: ‘THIS IS THE CURE FOR CANCER, HONEST’. As an afterthought, he decided it would be good manners to write a note to inform the discover of his body of all the important details. He took his chair back from underneath the noose and placed it by the table one last time. He fetched himself a piece of a paper and a biro and set to work on his note:


Dear Sir/Madam

First of all, may I take this opportunity to sincerely apologise for the smell and any discomfort you may feel on discovery of my decaying body. If I may be so bold, I would appreciate a moment of your time. On the table is the cure for cancer. It cures all cancers, it’s very complicated but very certainly the cure for cancer. I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure how I made it myself but I suspect a professional scientist could quite easily isolate all of the different components. I therefore implore that you can get this to the relevant authorities at once. I thank you in advance for your services, I have left £20 to cover any travel expenses you may incur.

Yours Faithfully,
Jackson Pervis

That seemed perfectly sufficient, Jackson looked at small slip of paper he’d used to tie up all the loose ends of his life with. He counted the words it had taken: 126 words. Well at least it wouldn’t take too much time to read. He filled up the remaining space with his red sharpie, writing ‘READ ME’ and then following that with ‘PLEASE’ and shoved the paper into his pocket.. Then, he moved the chair back, mounted it, wobbled a little and then began the business of positioning his head inside the noose and adjusting it. He allowed himself one last think:

Jackson: I suppose this is the only way is it?
Mr Pervis: I can’t think of anything else I’m afraid. We can’t live with destroying something that could save millions of people, we can’t live with the attention that curing cancer would afford us and it turned out that doing nothing did nothing.
JP: Yeah, sorry about that. I suppose death it is.
Jackson: We had a good run didn’t we? We delivered people’s post, that was helpful, we impacted the world in a constructive, positive way.
Mr Pervis: Yeah, I suppose. But now we are leaving that world, people are still going to get their post, it just won’t be you delivering it.
Jackson: Ah, yes, that’s true. But I don’t think we made a negative impact, surely?
Mr Pervis: No I think that’s fair to say. He didn’t cause any permanent harm to anyone. We may have used up the earth’s resources but a lot less than most people had.
JP: So, in truth, we really haven’t altered the world, or anyone in it, in any significant way at all with our existence.
Jackson: Fair.
Mr Pervis: I suppose, it really hasn’t been worth it all has it.
JP: Well, our death will be quite significant, positively significant! I mean it enables the discovery of cancer doesn’t it.
Jackson: Oh that’s true, well I suppose there is no other way.
Mr Pervis: Well said, I suppose, had better get to it.
Jacky P: There is one other option!
Jackson: Hello?
Mr Pervis: Sorry?
JP: What’s that?
Jacky P: Well we could answer the door.
Jackson Pervis had been so occupied with his final thoughts that he had completely tuned out the doorbell. He was brought to with such a start he very almost slipped and hung himself. But he didn’t. He didn’t slip, he didn’t hang himself, he didn’t die and, consequently, he went to answer the door. He closed the hall door to conceal the kitchen and hurried down the hall. As he went he realised that this was the first time he’d heard his own doorbell, no one had ever rung it before. He didn’t care for it.
He opened the door to Tessa Bailey, armed as always with an ear to ear smile and, in her hands, a bag.
“Hello Mr Pervis, I do hope I’m not intruding.”
“I…er…no. You aren’t at all.” Stammered Jackson, adding, “Would you like to come in.” just to be polite.
“Oh yes, I’d love to. How kind of you Mr Pervis. You have a lovely house.”
So she was one of those people was she?! One of those people who mistook polite convention as genuine invitation. Jackson found that very unnerving.
“Can I offer you a cup of tea, please come into the lounge, take a seat?”
“Mr Pervis, you must be a mind reader. I don’t suppose you have sugar and milk do you?”
There she went again! Demanding things that she had been offered.
“Er…no I’m afraid. I just have green teas actually.”
“Oh lovely, do you have peppermint?”
“I do.”
“That would be amazing, thank you so much Mr Pervis. While you are going into the kitchen I’ve brought you you’re meal deals. You weren’t at the shop at your usual time. It’s alright, it’s on me.”
For a moment, Jackson was absolutely gobsmacked. He felt his mouth hanging wide open and knew that he had to make words come out of it as soon as he possibly could. He had to thank her, she really had been quite, genuinely kind. And then he would also add that it really was unnecessary but finish by telling her she was quite…well…genuinely kind.
“Oh.” Was what he in fact said, before leaving for the kitchen with the bag.
He walked into the kitchen and channelled his vision to focus solely on the kitchen work surface, not the noose, not the chair, not the cure for cancer. He unpacked his meal deals; one tin of soup, two chicken kormas, two spaghetti carbonara and tw…oh, only one shepherd’s pie. But the bag wasn’t empty, what was it? Goodness gracious, it was that lovely chicken dish, and the tart and the Chardonnay! He couldn’t quite believe it. Killing himself would certainly have to wait until he’d eaten that. Also tea, he had to make her a peppermint tea, the best peppermint tea he could make. He cleaned the kettle out, waited for a full boil and then timed the teabag dunk to perfection. He was allowed it to cool for a moment and then picked it up and turned to take it to Tessa but she was already stood there in the doorway. Her eyes moved from the noose, to the cure, to a piece of paper in her hands, to him. His free hand darted to his pocket. Damn! It was empty, it must have fallen out in the lounge. Tessa was still looking at him. Her whole body was shaking, her eyes were watering and he noticed her smile, that trademark smile, had completely vanished.

Jackson and Tessa, five minutes later, were sat in the living room, away from the disturbing scene in the kitchen. The time was ten past five which was not a time Jackson had expected to see. It was beautiful, The small hand barely off the mark of five, the large hand hot on its heels, already at two, with twenty minutes it would have overtaken. The sun was just starting to duck below the top of his window, blinding Jackson in its brilliance. The sun felt far warmer that it ever had before. He let it wash across him, stimulating each cell it touched. The sun gave life and he felt more alive than he had all his life, ten minutes late for his death.
Jackson noticed Tessa, she was holding her tea close to her chest, staring at him. She had been quieter for longer than he had ever known her to be, which must mean something was wrong. Ah, yes, Jackson spotted the tear meandering down her cheek and another quivering in her left eye, clinging on with the last of its strength before it too feel down her cheek. That confirmed it, something was bothering her. Was anything bothering Jackson? Now that was a tricky one to answer. Fifteen minutes before this Jackson had had a noose around his neck. How had he felt then? Well, he wasn’t quite sure he’d felt anything, not for quite some time. Not like he could feel now, not how he could feel the sun on his face right now. He also felt pleased. Pleased to not be dead? A little bit. Pleased to be feeling? Well, he supposed, for now. When he hadn’t felt he’d been safe, not happy obviously but safe at least. If you never strive to feel good you improve your odds of never feeling bad. Being numb wasn’t good but it wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good but it wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good but it wasn’t bad but it definitely was not good, just as much as it wasn’t bad. Death is similar, it isn’t good, it isn’t bad, it isn’t anything. Maybe living life numb is death, maybe not, no one has ever got a publishing deal from beyond the grave. Was he pleased that he had under gone a resurrection after a suicide attempt? Well, it was obvious that he was, but what had changed? His thoughts were drawn back to Tessa who was now out of his chair and walking to towards him. She came right up to him, without saying a word and seemed to collapse upon him. Her head lay underneath his chin, her arms wrapped around him and clung for a while. Long enough for a small part of Jackson’s mind to finally grasp the idea that, for the first time since his dad died, someone cared about him. That was why he felt pleased. He let his hands press gently against her back, now it was a hug, the first hug he’d had in a long time. He heard his voice broken with an amount of emotion he wasn’t able to deal with whisper “Thank you.”
And with that it was done, Tessa gently released he grip and rose to her feet. She glanced at her tea for a moment and then suggested that, while tea was very useful in a vast number of situations, this specific situation needed wine like Hitler needed more hugs as a child.

Tessa walked into the kitchen and leant on the work surface, staring into space for a long time. She reached for the wine without taking her eyes off…well, space. She could feel the noose on behind her, dangling in the mid-air refusing to go away. She wanted nothing more than to tear it down but that wasn’t her decision. She could decide not to look at it though, so she didn’t. He only had mugs so she poured to mugs of wine on autopilot. She took a deep breath, and then, with immense difficulty, tore her gaze away from her bit of space and walked back to the lounge. Mr Pervis had been crying since the moment she had walked in on the noose but he seemed to have transitioned from weeping to a silent, still sob. It still broke her heart to see though. She lightly placed the mug in his hands and returned to her seat. She took a long gulp of wine, it wasn’t anywhere near strong enough to take any sort of edge off the pain she felt for this man but it was enough to clear her mind a little from the haze of fear. Fear of the ‘what if’. What if she’d never come to Mr Pervis’ house to drop of his meals. What if she’d not made it in time. What if he was sat there now, waiting for her to leave so he could finish the job. She decided she wasn’t going to leave the house until she was sure she wouldn’t return to a corpse.
She watched him tentatively edge the wine to his mouth. He sniffed the wine for reasons only known to himself and then dipped his tongue in it before grimacing. He retreated for a moment before regrouping himself and began, once again, to advance on the wine. The face stopped millimetres short of the mug, only willing to go so far. The lips had to venture on alone, extending to the rim of the mug, creating a small tunnel to his mouth. He began to sip, his lip grip was so tight that this made quite a noise. This made Tessa giggle which was a nice break from agonising over ‘what ifs’. He spluttered as he laughed to but it wasn’t happy, it was embarrassed and apologetic.
“Please don’t think I’m laughing at you Mr Pervis.”
“That’s quite alright my dear. It is one’s first time consuming alcohol.”
“Do you like it?”
“I…I’m not awfully sure. The do enjoy the taste, the smell is a little oaky but I must ask, is it supposed to burn? It’s makes my mouth feel a little perculiar.”
“Best not to move on to stronger things for a while, Mr Pervis.”
He laughed a little and then fell silently. It so was excruciating watching him desperately grasping for something to say that she refused to bear it. It was time for her to stop thinking about ‘what ifs’ and start talking about ‘what nows’. Tessa had developed her own strategies for situations like this. She’d learnt after much trial and error that it was a mistake to try and solve their problems for them. Far more effective to facilitate them, she reckoned. First thing was first, she had to facilitate to get to the route of this problem that had escalated so far.
“Mr Pervis, I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what thoughts are festering in your mind that convinced you to try and end your life. What could possibly be that bad? Why were you trying to hang yourself? How could you do it? How does someone get to that stage?”
Mr Pervis paused and pondered for a long time before he began to tackle the many questions put to him. When he did reply, it was hesitant, the toll of his heavy, ongoing thought process evident in his frequent pauses. But Tessa was patient and very happy to wait.
“I…my dear girl…it is hard to convey what I feel because I have not been aware of how I feel for a long time…It is not an easy explanation why either, as it is a position entirely exclusive to me…It is not…pleasant for me to explain how little my life means to me. For a week I’ve lived with an unmanageable weight on my shoulders. Every waking second it’s weighing me down, making me less and less and I didn’t start out as very much.”
“Well then drop the weight.”
“I can’t.”
“Then can we at least share it?”
Mr Pervis considered this proposal for a second; if he’d considered any longer he wouldn’t have obliged.
“I’ve discovered the cure for cancer.”

Sentences like the one directly preceding this are like doorways. Upon hearing them you enter into a new world without any hope of returning to your old one. The sentences couldn’t be unheard, it was said, soon she would joined him in the world were cancer could be cured and he woud no longer be alone. All she had to do was process that sentence. Take in each sound, add then up into words, place those words in order, disseminate the meaning and understand the consequences and power of this meaning. Humans do this with most sentences their come across but Tessa took extra care over this one:




Analysis
I’ve – A pronoun with a contracted version of the auxiliary verb: ‘have’. The pronoun, in this context, refers to Mr Pervis; the subject of the sentence. The auxiliary carries no purpose but to place the whole sentence in the past tense.
Discovered – The main verb of the sentence, meaning to reveal or uncover something that was hidden.
The Cure For – the definite article followed by the object of the sentence. It is a noun that means the solution to a problem, commonly used in the context of medicine. The third word is a preposition, specifying what the cure cures.
Cancer – A disease that kills about 7,600,000 a year. A disease treatable but not curable.

Meaning
Mr Pervis, through no fault or desire of his own, had saved 7,600,000 people a year. If that figure had stayed consistent for the next decade that would mean, in ten years, Mr Pervis would have saved the same amount of people who are alive on this planet right now.

Consequences
Endless

Tessa then entered into a world where cancer meant diddle-squat, thankfully in this world she still had her wine. She took another gulp of wine, in this new world; wine still tasted the same.
“How on earth did you manage that.”
“You believe me?”
“Are you lying?”
“No.”
“Then yes, how did you manage it?”
“By complete and utter accident.”
Tessa wasn’t sure which truth was more ridiculous. Millions of human beings had been saved by Mr Pervis or that they’d been saved by a complete and utter accident. Still, as easy as it was to be distracted by the curing of cancer, she was trying to understand why a man tried to commit suicide.
“This is amazing Mr Pervis, how on earth did it lead you to try and hang yourself. You’ve cured cancer, you’ll save millions of people. You’re a hero!”
“What have I done?” snapped Mr Pervis.
“Cured cancer.”
“I didn’t, it was an accident.”
“It was your accident.”
“But WHY!?” he exploded, “I’ve only ever wanted to be left alone. To be allowed to get on with my life and I wasn’t even allowed to get on with my death. I don’t want to be known, seen, heard by the people because they don’t care about me.”
“But you’d…you’d be a hero.”
“Why, what changed about me? I wasn’t a hero when I was a postman and I’m not a hero now. They’d pretend I was a hero for a while but they wouldn’t adore me, they’d adore the cure. The cure was an accident, it was nothing to do with me.”
“I cared about you before any of this happened.”
That seemed to shatter Mr Pervis’ sudden whirlwind of fury. He stared at her for a moment and then threw back the question she had been throwing at him; “Why?”
“Because take the time to talk to me.” There was a long silence while Tessa let it sink in and then she continued, “You are always polite, and I know you don’t want to talk sometimes but you always do.” Mr Pervis was beginning to shake, “I see you Mr Pervis, you worked for the postal service meaning you give people their letters and instead of people’s thanks you get barked at by dogs. You are a sweet, sweet man who has let himself become isolated. You feel hated by the world but you still served it. You’re my friend Mr Pervis, so I will not let you do what you have tried to do, I will not let you go.”
Mr Pervis’ mouth moved up and down several times without the success of any particular words so he gave up trying to reply and allowed himself a little time to be moved. Then he spoke:
“Will you make me a deal?”
Tessa nodded.
“I will keep on living if you tell people that you discovered the cure.”
Tessa laughed, “Oh Mr Pervis, I would…”
“Please do, because I’d rather like to keep on living.”
“I’m afraid my ex-biology teacher would quickly put an end to that lie.”
“I need you to, I can’t do it, I can’t.”
“Mr Pervis, please. Neither of us need to take responsibility for the cure for cancer. I think we are both nuts not to but I don’t think we are wrong not to want to either. All we have to do is send it anonymously to the people who can make a difference with it.”

It dawned upon Jackson that he had gone through a week of agonising over his morale responsibility to the human race culminating in his decision to end his own life and this incredible simply idea had never once crossed his mind.

Tessa made a mental note that strategies aren’t always the way forward, sometimes you just have to tell someone what to do.

These are the thoughts that we will leave Jackson and Tessa on for this day. This day, this funny day that looked like it could have been the day a man sacrificed himself to save 7,600,000 people. It in fact was the day that a girl, on a whim, came and saved a man and, by doing so, saved 7,600,001 people. That is a huge difference but the maths doesn’t show that, that’s the problem with maths. What people forget is that 7,600,000 isn’t one number, it is 7,600,000 number ones. Each number one is equal to another so adding one more number one that is just as equal makes the huge difference that is 7,600,001. Gosh, that’s hard to understand isn’t it, maybe you should take a break, start chapter four after a nap or something.