“Wait, wait,” she says, sitting up. “Let’s have breakfast or something.”
“It’s seven, you can sleep.”
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” she grumbles, kicking her feet free of the blankets. She grasps his hand. “Come on. How long do you have?”
“An hour before I have to be at the airport.”
“Perfect,” she says. She rubs her tired eyes, tugging him into the living room.
It’s a bright blue day, outside the windows. The shirt she slept in feels soft and comfortable. As the coffee brews, Lili looks over his record collection. Glancing over the fraying spines, she tugs out a familiar album; setting it on the record player, a crackle of feedback before the guitar starts, then the kick of drums. Crisp, clear sounds like bleached sunshine.
At the kitchen island, Aleksandr shakes his head, smiling as he thumbs through the day’s newspapers.
“What?” Lili asks, grinning as she sways to the music.
“Nothing,” he says, dropping down onto the couch. He picked outThe Guardian. “Just thinking of what my sixteen-year-old self would think, seeing my life now.”
“You mean, the materialism? The exorbitant capitalism?” Lili teases, trying to pull him onto his feet.
“Not quite,” Aleksandr says, pulling her onto his lap instead, her thighs falling around his hips. “No, I mean the woman, and the song, and the morning.”
“It’s a good song,” Lili says. She smooths her hands over the fabric of his shirt, under his suit. Dark gray today, charcoal.
“It was one of my favorites, as a boy.”
“You were listening to the Stones in nineties Leningrad?”
“Well, the records took a while to make it across the Iron Curtain,” he jokes.
Lili laughs, rests her palm on his cheek, the scratch of his beard against her skin as she hums to the music. Aleksandr grasps her wrist, turning it so he can kiss her palm.
“You’re headed to California today?” she murmurs, nestling closer. The scent of coffee, the record. The sense of wanting to stay here—in the amber of this moment.
“San Francisco,” he says. “Finalizing an acquisition that’ll integrate into that office.”
“You’ve been before, right?”
“Once or twice a year. It’s one of our major offices, I like to visit often. Be on the ground.”
“The fog will be bad,” Lili says. “Always foggiest in the summer.” There’s that gray at his temples that she pointed out weeks ago and said she’d liked. He hasn’t dyed it yet.
“Have you been back recently?” Aleksandr asks.
Lili shakes her head. “No, not since freshman year. I’ve stayed in the city since then. I actually thought about visiting this summer, but it didn’t work out.” She shrugs.
In the kitchen, the coffee machine hisses.
“Coffee’s ready,” she announces with a grin.
Leaning forward, she brushes her nose against his.
“How much time did you say you had before your flight, again?”
“Like, honestly—I know what a fucking downward dog is? I don’t need a kid fresh out of teacher training telling me my chaturanga lacks sufficient depth?”
“You tell them, Ami,” Jackie says, taking a swig of water.
“And Jesus Christ, I’m not payingthirtydollars for a yoga class to be packed in like sardines,” Amina continues, wrestling with her tote. “I didn’t sign up to eat the ass of some Instagram model, I came to fucking clear my chakras or whatever shit.”
