As they approach the apartment, they both observe Nick’s tired demeanor.

“Hey,” Travis says simply, coming to stand in front of him.

John walks past the two to go inside.

“Gi’me a cigarette,” Nick demands.

Looking at Nick seriously, Travis just says, “Do you know what we went through to get these? There were cops, natives… the bridge was out… oh my God! I’m not even going to get into what happened with the flux capcitor time shifts!” Travis shakes his head in disbelief.

“Shut up,” Nick replies as Travis gets out two cigarettes, handing one to his friend. Sitting down on the stoop, Travis lights his own and regards Nick for a moment who is still and staring at some nothing. Travis leans over takes the smoke out of Nick’s hand, puts it in Nick’s mouth, lights it, and watches as Nick passively smokes, without moving. “I really gotta’ quit doin’ this,” Nick says, the cigarette hanging pathetically, sticking to his bottom lip.

“Nah,” Travis says, switching into the voice of a glib public service announcement voiceover, “You are a happy person full of imaginative thoughts.”

John comes out of the front door again with three bottles of beer. He gives one each to Nick and Travis and sits down on the staircase leading to the apartments above them.

“You have a deep and sincere respect for yourself and for your personal worth to others,” Travis continues.

“I can’t stand her. I really can’t. But I can’t not want her.”

“Didja sleep with her?” Jon interjects.

“You recognize the friendship that others offer you for you truly deserve it.”

“I really can’t stand her.”

“That’s just the sobriety talking,” John muses.

“It is easy for you to accept the help and cooperation others offer you because you see their help to you as an expression of friendship and mutual understanding.”

With sudden vibrancy, Nick pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, tearing his bottom lip, and says, “That’s it exactly! I’m serious! That’s it. Every fucking time we get drunk… God. I fucking hate it.”

“You realize that giving and receiving are two sides of the same coin.” Travis stops and pauses for a moment as though he were coming out of hypnosis. “Look, man, theres’ nothin’ you can do about it now,” he offers.

“Shit, I cut my lip.”

“I hate it when that happens.”

“I know. Geez. But I mean… God damn it,” Nick protests.

Travis pauses. Now he’s not sure which conversation he’s following. “I meant the girl,” he says.

“I meant the cut,” Nick says.

“Well, there you go,” Travis says. “It’s copasetic.”

“What the hell is that supposed that mean?” John asks.

Travis shrugs.

“Knock it off with that hippy crap.”

“I cut my lip so now I don’t have to feel guilty?”

“Instant karma is going to get you?” Travis asks.

John growls and Nick holds up a hand, “Now just a minute—there could be something to this…”

The three boys sit in their tight circle as yellow light from the city mates with the turquoise light of a sun an hour still from rising. The birds all chirp gleefully, dispersed throughout the few scraggly trees in the parking lot. There is a surreal orchestration arranged between the singing, the boys sipping, and the downshifting of a heavy truck out on the main road.

“What’ve you guys been up to?” Nick asks, changing the subject.

“Ah nothing. We just went out to get cigarettes and took the long way home,” John answers.

“Shit. I would rather have been doing that.”

Travis shrugs. “I’m pretty sure well being doin’ it again tomorrow.”

Read the whole thread: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: Athens, John Riffing, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting