They had made good time, right until reaching the ever present slowdown that was the Mass Pike merger.

“How is there traffic on a Saturday?” complained Mitch. “This was always my least favorite part of staying over Jodie’s after a Grindhouse taping. It’s always like this, no matter the time of day.”

“Don’t know why, this is superb,” Avi quipped. Yet, they were still in motion, albeit slow going. For some reason, it was around this part of the trip that Mitch had assumed would be the most insufferable, with someone that he’d barely known in stop-and-go traffic. But it went by without any hiccups as Avi inquired about how to pronounce “Worcester”, which Mitch, with sadistic glee, forced him to attempt to say the city’s name. Before he’d even realized it, Connecticut’s border was crossed over. By then they were in a deep conversation about such riveting topics of the British spelling of things, and the sentiment of ‘fuck Britain, actually’, and then 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 responded dismissively. “The fuckin’ Brits?”

“Presumably?” The befuddlement that Avi was experiencing was on full display, and Mitch wondered if he should ease up just a little. At least, it was a consideration that’d been exercised until they’d made a third coffee stop when they’d gotten past New Haven. 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?” Hand to his own chest, Mitch gasped and feigned insult.

“You’re something, alright.” Plucking the debit card out from Mitch’s fingers, he handed it over to the cashier.

“Aren’t vegans all about clean eating? How does caffeine figure into that?” The inquiry was genuine, even though he’d yet to wipe the shit-eating grin off of his face.

“I mean, that’s part of it, if you’re doing it for dietary reasons.” The card was handed back to Mitch. “My dad’s Hindu, and my mom’s a hippie, so I grew up in a vegetarian household. When I got older, just seemed like the next logical step.”

“Huh,” nodded Mitch thoughtfully. “So caffeine is alright?”

“Caffeine is considered ‘tamasic’, er, bad to my dad. But not to me,” Avi teased back. “So y’know, I can certainly partake in a variety of substances.”

“Oh do you?!” Mitch barely kept from shouting in the parking lot. “You know that Mass is recreational now, right?”

“A small part of the reason that I took the job,” snickered Avi once they were back at the car; whether or not he was being serious was difficult to assess.

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

“Oh, you mean Wor-chest-er?”

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

“Changed my mind. 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,” deadpanned Mitch.

“Go Yankees!” Avi lifted an arm in the air as he made this brave declaration.

“Real heel shit right there.” Mitch shook his head as Avi disappeared into the driver’s side seat. Reaching down, he touched the handle to the car’s door, but hesitated when he realized that he couldn’t get a grasp on it, then fell transfixed by the way that his fingers trembled. The awareness that he was within an hour of seeing Calvin fell upon him like a sack of bricks, and this awakening cognizance was accompanied by nausea and panic. Of all places to be on the verge of a breakdown, a small rest stop with an acquaintance that he was getting along well with was fitting. “Wait, I-” he began to speak up, but his tongue was too heavy in his mouth and he choked on the words.

“You-” Avi, having just sat down but hadn’t shut the door yet, stood back up and folded his arms across the hood 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. I need a butt.” A cigarette was produced and brought to his lips, but then it dawned that he’d forgotten a lighter. Running a hand through hair, he tugged hard at the strands. “Goddammit,” he grumbled, angry and ashamed that the spiral hit so swiftly and effectively, that he probably looked like a fucking junkie that was having an episode; his inner voice made fast work of reminding him that he was -in fact- exactly that, and in the moment there was no strength to combat the horrible words that his own mind assailed him with.

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

“A lighter. Just,” Mitch attempted to retrieve his wallet, but Avi had already sprinted back to the store. 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.” A newly purchased neon green Bic lighter was produced, and after some fumbling and several clk clk clks later, Avi managed to get the flame lit and held it under the cigarette that dangled between Mitch’s lips. A deep inhale was taken, and Mitch was sure to blow away from Avi. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, and silence hung heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch mumbled around the filter. “Thought I could keep it together? Didn’t think it’d be like this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Avi was quiet, in that way that was sympathetic, but when things were awkward and there wasn’t much else to say. And for some intangible reason, that stung.

“I’d quit smoking a while back, but. Like right now it’s doing this or…” Mitch took a 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, just because he’d lost all semblance of control once upon a time and was still dealing with the fallout and the shockwaves on occasion. “Other vices,” he settled on, and Avi nodded.

A few more drags were taken, and Mitch dropped the cigarette to the pavement and stepped on it to snub it out. Were he in a better state of mind, he’d discard it in the trash rather than choose to litter, but his vision was blurry and tinnitus rang loudly in his skull, making it throb. The rumbling of the cars on the nearby the highway and the fumes from oil and gasoline that’d saturated into the lot further heightened the disorientation, and Mitch surrendered to the reality that there’d be no responsible decision making now.

“You good?” Avi asked.

“Should be,” Mitch said, his voice feeling disembodied.

“Do you need anything else from the store?”

“No.” He pulled the car door handle and climbed back inside. There was no further conversation held until they’d left and were miles away.