Seeing Red Read Free

you long enough!” he growls, tossing his bag into the backseat. As we’re driving away, he tries to roll up the window, but nothing happens.
    â€œWhat the hell?”
    â€œThat’s weird. It was there a minute ago.”
    â€œYou broke my window? How?” He looks down at my forearm. “And who the fuck is Jody ?”
    Doc complains throughout the entire drive back into the city, alternating between cursing at me and muttering to himself. He tells me stories about his exploits in Vancouver and then interrupts his own anecdotes just to swear at me some more, calling me a retard and a piece of shit and a fuck-face for breaking his window. Gusts of air hit him directly in the eyes as we speed down the highway and he awkwardly tries to block the wind with his hands, but to no avail.
    â€œLook, I’m sorry. I’ll pay for it,” I tell him, and he shakes his head. “Hey, believe me, I’m pissed off too. They stole my iPod. Now how am I supposed to listen to Whitesnake?”
    â€œJust . . . just get me home. You bring the booze tonight and we’ll call it even. But I’m warning you, I’m gonna be drinking a lot . Like shit-faced, puking, pissing-all-over-myself drunk. You in?”
    â€œWouldn’t miss it for the world.”
    â€œGood. I told Craig and Scott to show up around eight.”
    No surprise there. The four of us drink together every weekend without fail. Today is Friday, so we’ll go to Dockett’s apartment and stock his fridge full of alcohol and then laugh and play cards until we’re sufficiently inebriated. Then we’ll frequent the bars, the seedy clubs, and awkwardly talk to women. Sometimes some of us get lucky. Most of the time we don’t. But that’s the game and we play it every goddamn weekend.
    â€œSounds good,” I say, fiddling with the knobs on the radio. “I have a few errands to run, but I’ll come by after.”
    â€œWhat kinda errands?”
    â€œOh, you know. The usual.”

THREE
    Later that day, I find myself sitting alone in a doctor’s office at the walk-in clinic waiting for him or her to enter the room. The walls are pure white and covered in the usual motif: diagrams of the circulatory system, anti-smoking ads with black lungs and rotten teeth, cartoon germs professing the dangers of not washing your hands. I leisurely scan the room to see if there’s anything worth stealing. Not that I would—it’s just a game to pass the time. Aside from a jar full of cotton swabs and some rubbing alcohol, it looks like slim pickings. Maybe there’s something in the desk drawer? Probably not. These walk-in clinics are usually pretty cheap.
    A few minutes pass before a grey-haired man wearing a long white coat suddenly comes in through the door. He sits at a small chair at a small desk and gives me the requisite small talk before asking, “So, Mr. Reid, what can I do for you today?” I’m not sure where to begin. How do you describe it? It would take hours to fully explain my condition.
    â€œLately, I’ve been getting these blackouts,” I tell him. “Memory lapses.”
    â€œUh huh. And when do these lapses occur?” he asks me with his head held down, leisurely writing into an open folder.
    â€œWell, it’s like last night. I drank no more than I usually do, and yet I can’t remember a single thing. After a certain point it all cuts out.”
    â€œUh huh. And how much do you typically drink in one night?”
    â€œIt depends. I know I had some gin. . . .”
    â€œAnything else?”
    â€œMaybe a little scotch, too.”
    â€œAnd then you blacked out?”
    â€œNo, that was before I left the apartment.”
    â€œOkay, so where did you go?”
    â€œI drove to this bar somewhere on Queen Street and drank there for a few hours. Then I met this girl and she invited me to a rooftop party. I found the receipt in my back pocket,