The population of Under the Bridge has grown by a dozen or so. Joe has long since drifted away from the bar to the intersections, thoroughfares and crisscrosses of steel and stone above him when “Hey, Joe!” occurs. He looks. Jodie is beside him.

She waits for him to wake up and says, “Harry says you’ve been considering something philosophically important,” she pauses and then puts her hands in the air and makes quote marks “about squares.” Jodie then presents her college eyes.

“I told Harry it wasn’t about squares; it’s about Victorian manners.”

“Yeah, I used to read satirical novels from the seventeenth—” she checks her herself—“or eight—whatever. They’re dead manners; that’s for sure.”

“Some of us are aware of ‘manners’ that are far older and would be far more useful these days. They never have to be dead.”

“Fine. I’m just mad that Carlin says you won’t be coming to my party this weekend.”

“Jodie…”

“Fine. I don’t care. But my friend does.”

“…”

“My friend who was with us when we saw you on York St.”

“Wait a minute…you were in the fish costume?” The beer starts talking for him. “What the hell were you guys doing? You freaked me out.”

“We felt like have a little fun. It was… you know…” she flaps her arms, “an art thing.” Joe starts to speak again but Jodie cuts in, “Look, Beatrice said she knew you—recognized you.”

Removed from all revelry, “Beatrice?”

“Yeah, she said you guys went to school together, or… no—grew up near each other.”

“Beatrice.”

“Yeah.”

“…”

“Joe?”

“I… I didn’t recognize her…”

“Well, Joe, we did kind of look like fish.”

“No, not that!”

Jodie stands aback at Joe’s flash of something clearly more deep than she understood. She waits, but Joe has put his forehead into his hand. The green writing, the feelings, the subconscious kicking like a braying animal on some subway platform as some woman walked by him again and again.

“Anyway, she wanted to see you. Jeez.” She punches Joe in the shoulder.

Joe feels solved. The equation balanced. He get up off his stool. “Tell Carlin I’ll be there.” He thinks for a moment. “I guess it’s your party, so, I’ll be there.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you have some deal with her?”

“Jodie…” he looks to his half-empty beer, the union plates behind the bar and then around to the door that doesn’t fit it’s doorjamb. “I couldn’t explain it in a million years, but yeah. I’ll be there.”

With some shock, “Really?”

Joe looks at his hands, upturned in front of him, examines his palms, like he was on some sort of drug, or coming down. “Son of a bitch.” He looks up at Jodie. “Things might actually make a bit more sense now.” She looks perplexed but before she can ask anything he says, “See you there, Jodie,” turns and walks out the door.

Read the whole thread: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Beatrice Hill, Jodie Copeland, Joe Takanara