Chapter 6.5

Up until they reached the Mass Pike merger, they made good time. Then came the slowdown.

“How is there traffic on a Saturday?” Mitch complained. “This was always my least favorite part of staying over Jodie’s, having to get through this.” 

“Don’t know why, this is superb,” Avi said flatly. Yet, they were still in motion, albeit slow going. If there was one part of the trip that held the potential to be the most anxiety inducing, it was this: stuck in stop-and-go traffic with an acquaintance. But there were no hiccups to speak of, and Mitch didn’t even realize that they crossed over Connecticut’s border; he was much too focused on hazing Avi over his mispronunciation of Worcester. This was followed by the British spelling of things, then sentiment of ‘fuck Britain, actually’, and then finally soccer. Avi asked if he should refer to it as ‘football’, and Mitch stuck his tongue out at the very notion.

“Who actually gives a shit?” Mitch dismissed. “The fuckin’ Brits?” 

“Presumably?” Avi’s befuddlement was on full display, causing Mitch to question if he should ease up a little; at least, it was a consideration until they reached New Haven and made a third coffee stop. All bets were off after that. “Well you said that you’re paying!” Avi defended himself when the teasing resumed. “I’m cashing in on that. Connecticut’s hard to drive through, man.”

“Oh? Am I not enough to keep you awake? Do I not entertain you?” Putting his hand to his chest, Mitch gasped. He purposefully kept his debit card out of reach.

“You’re something, alright.” This seemed to be the trick to getting Avi to push back a little, give back a bit of piss and vinegar. He crowded into Mitch’s space and swiped the card, then handed it to the cashier.

“Aren’t vegans all about clean eating? How does caffeine figure into that?”

“I mean, that’s part of it, if you’re doing it for dietary reasons. My dad’s Hindu, and my mom’s a hippie, so I grew up in a vegetarian household. Then I got older, took nutrition classes in college, and went for it.”

“Huh,” nodded Mitch thoughtfully, and took his card back from the cashier. “So caffeine is alright?”

“Caffeine is considered tamasic, er, bad to my dad. But not to me. I’m certainly free to partake in a variety of substances.”

“Oh, is that so?” He waited until they were out in the parking lot before asking, “Did you know that Mass is recreational now, right?”

“A very small part of why I took this job.”

“Jodie’s gonna love that. It sucks that the closest dispensary is in Worcester.”

“Oh, you mean Wor-chest-her?”

“Didn’t you mention wanting to blend in?”

“Gimmick change: I want everyone here to know that I’m better than them. Starbucks rules, Dunks drools. Go…” he paused. “Hey, what’s the team everyone here hates?”

“The Yankees?”

“Go Yankees!” Avi made his brave declaration with an arm hoisted in the air.

“Real heel shit right there.” Mitch shook his head as Avi cackled and disappeared into the driver’s side. He went to open the passenger door, but faltered when he couldn’t get a grasp on the handle. Tremors overtook his hand, then all of his limbs, and he became acutely aware that he’d be seeing Calvin in an hour. The awakening cognizance was accompanied by nausea and panic.

Of all places for a breakdown to crest, a small rest stop on the side of a highway was fitting; the fact that someone else was with him to witness this spiral, someone that he was just getting to know, only made it crueler. “Wait, I-” he spoke, but his tongue was too heavy in his mouth and he choked on the words.

“What’s up?” Avi, having sat down but not yet shut the door, stood back up and he looked at Mitch from across the roof of the car. His tone shifted to surprise, and he blurted out, “Oh fuck, are you OK?”

“I-” Mitch pat his pocket then reached into it. “I’m real sorry, I gotta be gross.” He nearly dropped the pack, but after some struggling he was able to bring a cigarette to his lips. Then it dawned that he forgot a lighter. Running a hand through hair, he tugged hard at the strands. “Goddammit,” he grumbled, angry and ashamed that he probably looked like a junkie having an episode, and his inner voice made quick work of reminding him that the self-assessment wasn’t far off; in that moment, he had no strength to combat the horrible words which his own mind assailed him with. 

“Hey, what do you need?” Avi approached cautiously, and kept close enough so that no one else could overhear. He lightly touched Mitch’s back, but Mitch flinched away from him.

“A lighter. Just,” Mitch attempted to retrieve his wallet, but Avi was already sprinting back to the store before he could get it out. It felt like he was gone for an hour, but Mitch checked his phone, and it’d only been a little over a minute.

“Here.” Avi held out a newly purchased neon green Bic lighter. With a little bit of fumbling and several clk clk clks later, the flame lit and and Avi held it under the cigarette that dangled between Mitch’s lips. Mitch took a drag, and was sure to blow the smoke away from Avi. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, and silence hung heavy between them.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch mumbled around the filter. “Thought I could keep it together? Guess not.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Avi responded quietly, and the awkwardness became palpable. It stung for some intangible reason, like an unspoken agreement between them to be cool became null and void because his brain imploded, and now there was sympathy and pity and pandering, layers upon layers of sugarcoats, all things that Mitch hated with his entire being.

“I quit smoking a while back, but right now it’s this or…” Mitch took another drag, shutting himself up, trying to avoid saying something unscrupulous. Not wanting to show his hand so soon. Not wanting to cause someone to regret doing a kind act by oversharing. Avi didn’t need to know that he lost all semblance of control once upon a time and was still dealing with the occasional shockwave from the fallout. “Other vices,” he settled on, and Avi nodded.

Taking a few more drags, Mitch then dropped the cigarette to the pavement and stepped on it. Were he in a better state of mind, he’d make the effort to find an ashtray rather than litter, but his vision blurred and tinnitus made his skull throb. The rumbling of the cars on the nearby the highway and the fumes from oil and gasoline that saturated into the lot further heightened his disorientation, and Mitch surrendered to the reality that he wasn’t in the best space to make rational decisions.

“You good?” Avi asked.

“Should be,” Mitch’s voice felt disembodied, like he was speaking from the bottom of the ocean.

“Do you need anything else from the store, or-“

“No.” He pulled the car door handle and sat down. There was no further conversation until they were miles away.

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