“When Pidge wakes up, let me know, okay?” he said in a soft voice. “I got spaghetti,and pancakes, and strawberries, and that oatmeal shit with the chocolate packets, and shelikes Fruity Pebbles cereal, right, Mare?” he asked, turning.When he saw me, he froze. After an awkward pause, his expression melted, and hisvoice was smooth and sweet.“Hey, Pigeon.”I couldn’t have been more confused if I had woken up in a foreign country. Nothingmade sense. At first I thought I had been evicted, and then Travis comes home with bagsfull of my favorite foods.He took a few steps into the living room, nervously shoving his hands in his pockets.“You hungry, Pidge? I’ll make you some pancakes. Or there’s uh…there’s some oatmeal.And I got you some of that pink foamy shit that girl’s shave with, and a hairdryer, and a…a….just a sec, it’s in here,” he said, rushing to the bedroom.The door opened, shut, and then he rounded the corner, the color gone from his face.He took a deep breath and his eyebrows pulled in. “Your stuff’s packed.”“I know,” I said.“You’re leaving,” he said, defeated.”

“Night, Pidge,” he whispered, turning over.I fidgeted, not yet ready to sleep. “Trav?” I said, leaning up to rest my chin on his shoulder.“Yeah?”“I know I’m drunk, and we just got into a ginormous fight over this, but….”“I’m not having sex with you, so quit asking,” he said, his back still turned to me.“What? No!” I cried.Travis laughed and turned, looking at me with a soft expression. “What, Pigeon?”

“Travis’ mouth fell open. “Oh, hell no. Are you trying to get me killed? You’ve gotta change, Pidge.”“What?” “Get a t-shirt on…and some sneakers. Something comfortable.”“What? Why?”“Because I’ll be more worried about who’s looking at your tits in that shirt instead of Hoffman,” he said, stopping at his door.“I thought you said you didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought?”“That’s a different scenario, Pigeon.” Travis looked down at my chest and then up at me. “You can’t wear this to the fight, so please…just…please just change,” he stuttered, shoving me into the room and shutting me in.”

“I meant what I said before. You need to walk away, Pidge. God knows I can’t walk away from you.”I touched his arm. “You don’t want me to leave.”Travis’ jaws tensed again, and then he took me under his arm. He paused for a moment, and then kissed my forehead, pressing his cheek against my temple. “It doesn’t matter how hard I try. You’re going to hate me when it’s all said and done.”I wrapped my arms around him. “We have to be friends. I won’t take no for an answer,” I quoted.”

“My son, Sam, at three and a half, had these keys to a set of plastic handcuffs, and one morning he intentionally locked himself out of the house. I was sitting on the couch reading the newspaper when I heard him stick his plastic keys into the doorknob and try to open the door. Then I heard him say, "Oh, shit." My whole face widened, like the guy in Edvard Munch's Scream. After a moment I got up and opened the front door."Honey," I said, "what'd you just say?""I said, 'Oh, shit,'" he said."But, honey, that's a naughty word. Both of us have absolutely got to stop using it. Okay?"He hung his head for a moment, nodded, and said, "Okay, Mom." Then he leaned forward and said confidentially, "But I'll tell you why I said 'shit.'" I said Okay, and he said, "Because of the fucking keys!”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I panicked.”I shook my head. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”“Me? I would have been better off dead if Travis had seen me come out of that building without you. I tried to find you after you ran off, but then I got lost and had to find another way. I walked along the building looking for that window, but I ran into some cops and they made me leave. I’ve been flippin’ the fuck OUT over here!” he said, running his hand over his short hair.”