“Alrighty then. Shall we?” Avi opened the front door with keys in his hand, and Mitch mumbled a quick “thanks” before he walked over to the Honda Fit. It was much cleaner than his or Jodie’s car, without a single napkin or fast food bag littering the floor. Avi opened the back driver’s side door and lowered the backrest until it laid flat. “Is this gonna be big enough to transport everything? I didn’t even think to ask.”
“It’ll be fine,” Mitch confirmed with a quick glance. “I don’t have a lot of stuff to begin with.”
Avi hopped into the driver’s seat. “Cool, me neither. Being a nomad sort of does that, makes you re-evaluate possessions.”
“Oh.” Mitch barked out a sharp laugh. “It’s less that, and more-” He caught himself before finishing the sentence.
“More what?”
Shifting in discomfort, Mitch mulled over his phrasing. Yes, his relationship with Calvin was atrocious, but Avi didn’t need the nitty gritty details. “My ex. He’s…very particular about how he likes things. And a lot of my things, he didn’t like.”
Avi’s face scrunched, then he declared, “Well that sucks!”
Taken aback by the reaction, Mitch wheezed. “It kind of did, yeah!”
“So let’s go get your shit so you don’t have to throw it away ever again!”
“Sounds good,” Mitch grinned despite himself. It was the first time that he didn’t get a pitiful tsk or a sympathetic spiel about being “valid” or whatever. The first time that he didn’t get the kid-glove treatment when it came to Calvin’s bullshit, just a blunt assessment before hitting the road and moving onto the next step. A practical interaction.
God, was it ever refreshing.
“Anyway, food. I’m fine with just Starbucks, if there’s one around. Unless you want…what is it you’re all crazy for out here? Dunkin Donuts, right?”
“That’s so many syllables, just call it Dunks,” teased Mitch.
“Thanks for the tip, I’m trying to blend in,” Avi winked. “Can you tell I haven’t been in this area for a while?”
“I believe in you,” Mitch snorted. “But yeah, there’s a Starbucks over by the mall. And uh…” he looked down at his hands. “This one’s on me.”
“That’s awfully generous. I promise I won’t get too many shots of espresso.”
“Hey, whatever you gotta do to get through Connecticut.”
“Oh, fair. I don’t miss riding the bus from Boston to Hartford to New York during a tour.” They turned off of Mechanic Street and onto Commercial Road, passing the Home Depot and a decrepit mall that somehow stayed open despite mostly being vacant. “And that was before smartphones were so readily available.”
“Oof, must’ve been rough.”
“Truly, the Dark Ages”, Avi nodded sagely with a firm jaw for dramatic effect, but his face reverted back to its genial demeanor within seconds. “Oh, but speaking of smartphones, we need a playlist! I can load stuff up before we get on the highway.”
“Sure, I guess?”
“What do you want to listen to? Like not to brag, but I have Spotify Premium. Ads? No way. Not for this guy.” He pointed a thumb at himself and gave an exaggerated nod, and Mitch giggled at the absurdity.
“Nah man, you’re driving, you pick the tunes. It’s only fair.”
“I listen to my own music all of the time. Besides, we’re heading into what I gotta assume is the least fun way to spend a Saturday. So you should get to do something that’ll make it at least a little better.” He turned into the parking lot and pulled into an open space.
“OK, but I can’t really think of anything other than like ‘mopey man music’ at the moment? That’s been my headspace, and it doesn’t make for fun car rides,” Mitch kept his voice low as they entered Starbucks, not wanting to alert anyone to his misery.
“What kind of mopey? Indie? Emo?” Folding his massive arms across his chest, Avi studied the menu that was above them, his head titled as though he was processing every bit of information that the world had to offer.
“Grunge? Iunno, like Pearl Jam?”
“Pearl Jam’s fine,” assured Avi. “I’m from Washington, y’know. I can dig Eddie’s dulcet tones from time to time.”
“That’s…huh? Don’t know why, but I clocked you as a California guy?” Mitch scratched his stubble, unsure how he built up that image in his head. Or why he shared it.
“You’re not far from the mark. I’m originally from Santa Barbara, but my family moved to Everett when I was a kid.” Avi quickly explained, until the cashier called them forward. He placed his order, then turned to Mitch and asked, “Hungry yet?”
“No,” Mitch shook his head, pulled out his debit card, and waited for the prompt to appear on the pinpad. “But I’ll have a grande iced coffee, black.”
“And this.” Grabbing an apple from a nearby cooler, Avi passed it to Mitch after they stepped away.
“Wait, why am I in charge of this?” he asked, confused as he examined it.
“In case you get hungry later,” Avi beamed with an earnestness that Mitch could only envy.
