Twice Upon A Time by Philip A. Nero

Author:Philip A. Nero [Nero, Philip A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Everyone woke late the next morning. Carla and Sarah both cut early classes, Carla to clear a headache, Sarah because she preferred staying with Ellis. They emerged from their rooms to find Bobby-the-couch-dweller sipping coffee at the kitchen table. Carla opted for a brew of high-octane tea. Eventually she mustered the will for a trek to the library to wrap up research on a long-lingering term paper. Sarah, Ellis, and Bobby remained together at the house until Ellis decided to return Cowboys car, leaving Sarah to spend some time alone with her brother.

“Three’s a crowd. I’m hitting the shower to wash away the last of my cobwebs, then I’m out of here,” he said. About a half hour later he was knocking on the door of the apartment Tony shared with Cowboy in a thin-walled garden complex that catered to students. Tony answered the door.

“Come on in. Cowboy’ll be back in a few minutes. He had to see someone about . . . you know, business,” Tony said, guardedly leading the way to the kitchen. “I assume you know what I mean. I’d like to trust you more, man, but to be honest, I don’t ever want to feel comfortable talking about drugs with someone your age.”

“I understand,” Ellis said.

“How about we do some shit?” said Tony.

“Shit?”

“You know, pot, reefer, marijuana. If we smoked a joint together, maybe I could trust you a little more.”

“I don’t think so. And I don’t think there’s anything you really have to trust me about.”

“Come on, I have some more of the stuff I gave you and Sarah on Sunday. It didn’t hurt you then. It won’t hurt you now.”

“We didn’t do it.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t smoke it?”

“I didn’t. Maybe she did.” Ellis couldn’t interpret Tony’s reaction. “You look hurt or something, Tony. Don’t take it personally. It’s just that I gave the stuff up almost thirty years ago.”

Tony did the quick math in his head. “Wow, man. You smoked dope in the 1940s? Not too many folks back then were into dope, especially younger ones from O-fucking-hio headed for the Army. You must have hung out with some far out dudes in your time. Were you into the jazz scene or something?”

“Poetry,” Ellis deadpanned. “Free verse.”

“No shit! Man. That’s great. I write poetry. I’ve got a reading tonight at a place called The Circle Inn. Why don’t you come? Sarah would love it.”

Ellis felt terrible. He had been joking with a kid who, for some reason, he genuinely liked and who also appeared to like him. His comment about being a poet was clearly a joke. But for whatever reason, Tony had taken him seriously. Worse yet, the topic was of obvious and great importance to the kid. Then Tony’s comments about 1940 sunk in. The last time he had done pot was in Vietnam, about thirty years ago by his own time clock, but only three according to Tony’s time clock. Tony had done the math and placed Ellis getting high about or before the time he was born.

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