Drowning Practice by Mike Meginnis

Author:Mike Meginnis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2021-12-16T00:00:00+00:00

August, Mott

THE CHEMISTRY BUILDING BURNED DOWN WITH A SPEED AND VIOLENCE its arsonists never intended. Their fire started small—a half gallon of gasoline sprinkled here and there on the ground floor, a burning candle overturned—but it proved to be more than enough. The blaze was punctuated by a series of muffled explosions, which shattered the windows and sent lab supplies flying out onto the pavement: sensitive instruments reduced to scrap and wire, melted circuit boards, foaming machines. A plume of black smoke rose from the building’s remainder. For the rest of the day, there would be no escaping the stench. Even in the dormitory, Mott’s nostrils and throat burned. Her eyes produced a continuous protective film of tears, which, when she was outside with Meredith, walking to her writing class, reacted with the ruined air, becoming a vapor, which rose from her face in white strands. Meredith’s eyes made the same kind of steam.

* * *

Mott’s professor ran her fingers down the surface of a student’s writing, smoothing it against her desk. The paper was wrinkled by her heavy application of multiple highlighter markers and red ballpoint pen. It peeled where she touched it the hardest, making white and Day-Glo twists of pulp that recalled the thin, black strings of gunk that Mott could generate by rubbing her hands together when she was sweating.

Teresa asked her students what the story was really about. Nobody volunteered an answer. One of the boys exhaled impatiently. Mott turned and glared at him. “I think it’s about fear,” said Teresa. “The protagonist understands from the outset that he needs to move in with the father character and nurse him through his decline. The story claims that Matthew is afraid to move home because the father was abusive in his childhood, but the father is hardly a physical threat to our protagonist, who is described as healthy and strong. What scares Matthew is the same thing that frightens the author, I think—the fact, the sight, and the smells of his father’s body. The father’s physicality is never described. We know his health is failing him, but we never see this in the narration. Turn to page four—”

A boy coughed pointedly, interrupting Mott’s professor. “I personally think it’s good the way it is,” he said.

Teresa adjusted her glasses. “I didn’t say it was bad. We’re here to help the author.”

“The author will be dead in three months,” said a girl in the front row.

“We don’t have to talk about this anymore,” said Teresa. “In fact, we can call it a day.”

The students were already zipping their backpacks and passing their marked manuscripts to the author, who thanked everyone for their help. “This is a lot to think about,” he said. “I have a call with an agent tomorrow. We’re going to discuss whether he would have represented me if there were any time left for him to sell my book.”

“Congratulations,” said Teresa. “Hypothetical representation is more than I got.”

All the students filed out. Mott glimpsed Meredith

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