Eddie Opens the Door

It opens and Eddie is there.

Look at the picture of him… we’ve gone over that but you could do with a reminder I guess.

He recognises Travis.  “Travis”.  He laughs.

His voice is thick and heavy.  Like the man you see in that picture, its what you expect.  It is the voice of that man. He was big, not in the way that Barney was big, not bloated and open of proportion, grown beyond his frame.  The flesh packed in to Eddie as it should.

At the moment I ind of had the same feelign I had when I met Travis.  Secure, calm… in the knowledge that I was meeting someone who felt complete.  This person was rounded and the package correct.

There is talk with Travis and I am introduced. They’re old friends and there’s warmth there and no questions about what we are doing standing on a doorstep knocking on doors in the snow.  He doesn’t ask about the car or the way we smell or the look in my eyes.  The door is open and we’re in.

I’m introduced, hands are shaken.  Eddie looks into my face for a moment and I feel like he’s sizing me up and then I’m sitting down and the other two have left the room.  I can hear their voices through the wooden walls.  I look around.  I’m sat in a wooden chair, like a wooden armchair, the back hard and straight.  I’m sat on the edge of the seat, perched on the edge, knees together.  Everything is made of wood, the beautiful old weathered wood you find by the sea.  I reach into my back and take out my Camera.Eddie's shack

They’re laughing next door, and in that moment I realise how far I have come.

I know nothing Travis, nothing.  I’ve been in a car with him for four months, sat at his side, talking for four months, and I know nothing about him.  He hasn’t given me anything about himself.  Well that’s not true, he’ll give you a lot about who he is now, at the moment, when we are talking… but nothing before.  Nothing before we met.  No history.  No context.  Just that he is Irish Jewish.

And now – now I’m sat in a strangers hand-made shack waiting for him – awkward – feeling like an intruder – waiting for him to come and put me at ease and introduce me again to Eddie and say all those things he says that make you feel okay…

A toilet flushes.

Footsteps.  Creaks.

Eddie comes back into the room.

He looks at me.  I look at him. There is nothing about me he understands.

He launches himself across the room – in a fury – in a fit of screaming fury.

I think he tells me to “Get the fuck out of my fucking house!”

I take a picture.

That’s the last thing I know.

And then it went darkfist coming at me

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