He sighs. “Fine. But just for your class.”
I squeal.
“But I’m not working Sundays, ever.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts’. Take it or leave it.”
“Fine.”
Elias shifts over on the blanket so that his body is entirely in the shade. He then pats his stomach, indicating that I should lie back down.
We both fall asleep under the tree this time, the warm September breeze blowing on our faces.
“Hey, Auntie Pam,” I grin over Elias’s shoulder.
Elias’s mom’s disembodied face squeals on his phone. “Meems! How are you doing? I miss seeing you! We’ve gone from every day over the summer to nothing at all.”
I jump over the back of the couch and wedge my body in between the cushions and where Elias sits. My chest curves around the warmth of his broad back, and I rest my chin on his shoulder so she can see both of our faces. I feel like a lizard sunning itself on a rock. “I miss seeing you guys, too. I miss Elaborate Lunches.”
At the beach house my family shares with Elias’s family, Auntie Pam and Uncle Mike, Elias’s parents, would announce on random days of the week that it was time for an “elaborate lunch”. They would ring an actual bell indicating its commencement. Charcuterie and cheese boards with seven different cheeses, four different meats, homemade paté, figs, grapes. Actual pieces of honeycomb. Oysters with homemade champagne mignonette. The rest of the bottle of champagne. An extra bottle of champagne. It was fucking awesome.
“We didn’t have Elaborate Lunch when I was there,” Elias frowns.
“We did,” I tell him, so close to his ear that I see the goosebumps rise on his neck.
“You were busy,” his mom adds on.
“What was I doing?”
“More likewhowere you doing,” I mutter, for his ears only.
“I think you were exercising,” Auntie Pam says, unaware.
“Exercising your hip flexors,” I mutter into his ear again.
Elias turns, picks up my body, and deposits it off the couch. He still makes sure I don’t hit my head on the coffee table on the way down.
“Meems and I are going to New Orleans this week for work,” Elias tells his mom.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Does that mean Meems is going to do all the work and you’re going to do all the New Orleans?” she asks him.
“Yep,” Elias responds.
“Nope,” I say from the ground next to his feet, popping mypthe same way. “Elias is going to be an active and engaged member of our community.” I stand up and squeeze my body into its previous location, feeling squished and cozy. Elias allows it.
“If anyone’s going to get him to do it, it’s you, Meems,” Auntie Pam says warmly.
“Thank you, Auntie Pam,” I say. “But he’s going to take accountability and do it himself.”
Elias sits further back on the couch, crushing me into the cushions so I can barely breathe.
“Good to hear,” she says. “All right. Just wanted to say hi, Elias. It was nice to see you for a sec, Meems. I’ll talk to you both soon.”
“Yep,” Elias says.
I can’t speak, because all the air has been pressed from my lungs.
