Page 9 of Summertime Rapture

“Me!” Francine and Rick both cried in unison.

“What?” Bruce asked, laughing. “I’m asking for picks.”

“One of everything, as usual,” Rick told him.

“I don’t know when that teenager metabolism is going to run out on you,” Bruce said.

“I’ll have one hot dog and one chicken leg, please,” Francine told him.

“Elsa?”

“Chicken, please!” Elsa called.

Francine’s husband, Jeff, went with one hot dog and one hamburger, while Rick’s wife, Claire, went for chicken “for now” and would decide on more later. Bruce threw up his hands and said he’d just make as much as he could, sensing that everyone would be “overwhelmed with hunger” when the food was finished.

As the night wore on, Elsa alternated between taking part in the conversation or leaning back to listen. She adored the close-knit relationship Bruce had with his siblings, as he seemed to uphold family above all things the way she did. The fact that she and Carmella had rather recently forged a brand-new, adult friendship thrilled her and filled her with compassion and love. At one point during the evening, she found herself blabbering about the “beauty” of Carmella’s recent marriage to Cody— her best friend turned lover turned husband, along with the fact that she was now about four months pregnant.

“How long had they been friends for?” Francine asked, captivated as she traced a line of ketchup over her second hot dog.

“Forever. Since they were thirteen,” Elsa told her.

“Wow.” Francine was flabbergasted. “I have to admit that I’m glad I didn’t marry any of the people I knew when I was thirteen.” She gave her husband a sheepish smile.

“That’s good to hear,” Jeff returned sarcastically.

“And you, Jeff? Do you wish you’d have married someone from age thirteen?” Francine asked.

“This sounds like a trap, Jeff. Don’t fall for it!” Bruce called.

“I obviously wouldn’t have married anyone from age thirteen,” Jeff said. “Age fourteen, on the other hand…”

Francine snapped her elbow into the side of Jeff’s arm. He nearly lost his hot dog upon impact and instead got a ton of mustard on his chin. Elsa hopped up to retrieve a napkin, laughing along with everyone else.

“Hey. It doesn’t matter when you meet the person you end up with,” Bruce offered then, watching as Elsa returned to her seat, a smile on his face. “You could be silly and old to boot, like me, and still end with someone very special.”

“Uh oh,” Francine teased. “Bruce has drank one too many Bud Lights.”

Elsa laughed as she eyed Bruce. His eyes caught the firelight beautifully, flickering as he took in full view of her, enraptured with love.

The night was long, longer than Elsa had expected it would be. As Francine, Jeff, Rick, and Claire headed out for the night, Elsa and Bruce waved goodbye from Bruce’s front stoop, watching as their headlights whizzed out across the night sky. Elsa’s yawn was debilitating. There was no way she and Zach would make it back to the Remington House that night.

“Don’t worry. Zach’s already fast asleep in the crib you brought here,” Bruce told her. “And you know that you’re welcome to stay any time. Mi casa es su casa.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the nose. Her eyelids drooped forward, casting her in momentary darkness.

Elsa found herself at the sink with the toothbrush Bruce had purchased for her, brushing her teeth clean of barbecue chicken and s’mores and wine. Elsa hadn’t stayed at Bruce’s place more than twice a month throughout their relationship, usually either having him over or avoiding it altogether. Her excuse, she supposed, was that she had a family to tend to.

But wasn’t it lovely just to allow herself to lean into the love he offered her?

Once in Bruce’s bed, Elsa curled into him, breathing in his warmth. In just a moment, she fell into sleep, escaping reality so quickly that she hardly noticed it.

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