DaySleeper

The next morning, we were all up bright and early, ready to seize the day. I drank two cups of coffee to counterbalance the Benadryl. Mike would be joining us any minute to help out with the beds before we all went with him to some super-store to get food. As soon as he knocked on the door, I was stepping out into the dewy early morning and crossing the street. The dining hall had all the tables folded and boxes and boxes of bed kits, waiting to be put together.

“Has anyone put together a bed before?” I ask.

“Uhh,” Mike says, “I put together my kids’ crib.”

“Good enough,” Avid says.

~~
We make surprisingly quick work of the assembly, filling up each wing with the specified number of beds that had been left written down as instructions for us this morning.
When it comes to making the beds that is a different story.

It’s amazing how long it takes to put sheets on a mattress. It’s shocking, really. It took us twice as long to do the sheets, and then we had to put the pillows in the pillow cases and then drape the blankets over the bed and tuck it in and make it look presentable.

It was really too much.

But we finished. Finally. Then Mike reminded us we had to go grocery shopping. I got in his car, pouting.

~~
In the store, finally, Mike has gone off with his own cart to get all the perishable food items, and has left Avid and I to shop for cans and other various foods. We walk along the aisles, reading off the list, and picking up the designated amount of it. Halfway through, Avid takes my hand and says something about how suburban this is. I laugh at him, but let him hold my hand regardless.

Yet, as we’re choosing the packages of frozen beans from the coolers, Avid holding my hand as people watch us and walk past, there’s a moment where I turn to him to show him my breath in the cold air, how it fogs up, and he’s smiling at me before I even say anything, and I imagine us this way, forty years from now.

And I am still just as happy.

I lose my train of thought and forget to tell him about my breath for a minute, so he raises an eyebrow and speaks.

“Yes, dear?”

I just smile and drop the bag of frozen greens in the cart.

~~
So we return home in the late afternoon and put the groceries away in the walk in freezer and large fridge. Mike has to leave at six for dinner with his family, so we promise we can put it all away, all by ourselves, and he goes.

We finish by seven and go into the dining hall, where I sit down on the floor, the collapsed table surrounding us, against the walls. Avid sits down with me.

“Avid?” I say.

“Yeah?”

I look over at him. His legs are crossed, and he’s leaning back, putting his weight on his hand.

“Today, in the grocery store,” I begin, “I had this moment where I turned to tell you something and you were smiling at me, and I imagined it like it was forever from now, and it… seemed right.”

He looks at me, furrowing his brows.

“This sounds corny,” I admit, “But I think I realized in the frozen foods section that I really like you a lot, and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

He smiles, leans forward, and kisses me forcefully.

“I’ve only felt that way for the last five months, but better late than never,” he says. We reconnect our lips once more.

I pull away for a moment.

“Boyfriends?” I ask.

“Boyfriends.”