Authorship of Meat Exerpt: Chapter 3

If I had put something into Claire last week that shouldn’t have been there, then on that same day I had taken something out of myself which I most certainly need. I open my eyes and I feel like I’ve left something somewhere. It might be a centre, something on which to lean, a sense of place or a little happiness - something close to love maybe. I’m not sure exactly what it is because it’s always been inside me, out of view, and when it left I wasn’t watching for it. Even if I had seen it, I don’t think I would have been able to notice it. All I know is that it’s gone now that I’ve woken up.

Plus I’ve been drinking pretty hard since last week when I left Claire to twitch away down the street, when I first wrote The Rohippies down and cut one loose. That was Friday and (I check my watch)… now it’s Friday again. I know that some things have transpired between then and now but all I can say for sure is that it’s Now again but some time later. And I’m certain that something which was once in me no longer is.

Truth be told, I feel a little bit like a Rohippie.

I get out of bed wearing only my boxers and a shiver moves down my spine into my hips. I move towards the desk.

When I sit down to write, my eyes still squinty with sleep, all I can focus on is how strangely absent of thought I am. I’m an animal, some sort of dog maybe, just looking around and breathing. I sit and stare at the screen of the computer for a bit, wondering what Mike would be doing right now. I figure he’s just sitting at his computer, staring at the keys, wondering what the first word he’d write today would be if –

Johnny comes into my room and is dressed, wild-eyed.

“Yo guys let’s start drinking!”

“Oh hell man, I can’t drink. My body hurts. I feel like a beast.”

“It’s homecoming, Fitz. This isn’t negotiable. Wake Iggy up.”

I hadn’t even noticed – Iggy is asleep on the couch wearing last night’s clothes. As soon as I see her curled up and full of dreams, covered in the slanty yellows of October morning, I realize that nothing’s missing from me at all. I had just forgotten that it was on the other side of the room, sleeping in the sun.

“I totally forgot she’d slept over. Sorry, I’m really out of it.”

“No worries. Get sorted out and wake her up.”

“I’m on it.”

Johnny leaves and I get up from my desk, knowing that I’m not going to be writing shit all for the next little while.

“Ig,” I say. “Iggy – it’s Fitzy. Wake up.”

“Uhhh…screw off…” She groans and stretches.

“Come on Ig. It’s Homecoming Friday. We need to get up and drink.”

“No more drinking.”

“Yes, yes, let’s go. We have to. It’s our last one.”

“Fine damn you.” She sits up and rubs her eyes, looks around. “Is there any coffee?”

“No, but we have 40’s.”

“Christ.”

“I know. I’m hurting too. I didn’t even remember that you’d slept over.”

She rubs her face. Her hair is a glorious mess; the sun picks up the purples painted in it. “I had weird dreams about you last night.”

“Oh yeah? What happened?”

“I don’t remember a hell of a lot of it. We were on an abandoned street and you were saying something like ‘Dig the million human footsteps that used to drum up and down this strip of concrete. Who ran from here and who ran to it? There’s joy and sadness here.’”

“Weird. What street was it?”

“Not sure. But it looked like it had been bombed.”

“Trippy.”

“And then you turned into a praying mantis and bit my head off.”

“Christ.”

“Strange times.” After she rubs her face again, she smiles, looks me up and down. “Don’t go getting all dressed up for me Fitzpatrick.”

“I just woke up. I forgot you’d slept over.”

“You’ve said that already. Deal with it and put some pants on.”

I throw on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt; both are cool with the October air which snuck in through the window while we slept.