As I See It Turn

It is early, far too early, when I am shaken into wakefulness by a bleary-eyed Aleksey. I groan in protest and roll over in a mass of blankets to get a better view of the alarm clock. Six in the morning.

"Aleksey. It's six," I state dumbfoundedly.

"Yep," he seems, if possible, less enthusiastic than I about this fact, "we've got to leave early if we want to make today work. C'mon, let's go get some breakfast."

He tugs on my arm, successfully pulling me half out of bed, and I wearily stumble the rest of the way.

"Let me get dressed first," I mumble, gradually approaching the bathroom. My arm is grabbed again.

"Nope. Hungry. Food now," and that was that. We traipse down a few flights of creaky stairs, past stained and peeling wallpaper, to where the motel's breakfast is being served. It seems that nobody else has decided to start their day early as we have, so we dig in and lounge around in all of our pajama-clad glory before trudging back up the dingy stairs to get dressed.

By seven, we've packed our light luggage back into Audrey and are ready to continue the adventure.

"Where to, oh Captain, my Captain?" I inquire, propping my bare feet up on the dashboard and wrestling my still-damp hair into a loose plait.

"Literature reference," he acknowledges casually, "We're going to Cape Cod then onwards to--" he cuts himself off to make an unpleasant face, "-- the ever-overrated and idealized city of New York, New York."

"Don't knock it; you've never even been there! It's going to be wonderful."

"You've never been there either," he laughs, "so you don't know that, silly," as usual, he's quite right.

As we leave the irresistibly charming city of Boston, Aleksey makes sure to stop to mail two small pieces of paper. One being the Pleasure Bay postcard, the other a polaroid quickly snapped of us posing awkwardly in front of the towering pillars of the Museum of Fine Arts. Scribbled on the backs of them were, respectively:

June,
I'm glad you dragged me to this
dumb beach, it was fun.
Aleksey

and

Juney,
You're a nerd, but that's just fine
with me.
Aleksey

I quickly read over the messages before dropping them in the post box and sitting down in the passenger seat once again. I smack Aleksey's arm and he looks at me in mock-hurt and surprise.

"What the hell was that for?"

"That beach was not dumb, it was awesome! And I'm definitely not a nerd, whether or not it's fine with you."

His only reply was a doubtful snort, "Right, and I'm secretly a porn star."

My only reply to that? Smack him again.