As I laid out the blanket and opened the picnic basket to survey the food I had brought, I watched Elliot walk out into the thicket of trees and pluck an apple from a low-hanging branch. I removed the insulated drink container from the bag I had packed, and set out the two porcelain mugs I had asked her to bring.

“Hey, can you pour me some of that?” she asked me through a mouthful of the fruit, walking back towards me with a slight swing in her hip. She was wearing a white hoody with a red overcoat on top. Denim jeans hugged her legs, and white canvas shoes that had seen plenty of travel donned her feet.

“Sure,” I willfully obliged. It was a cold, spring afternoon, and the coffee fogged up my glasses as I filled our mugs just before the brim.

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” I said to her as I wiped the condensation from my lenses.

“Do you mind making mine without any milk or sugar?” she asked me.

“I didn’t pack any milk, but I can make it without any cream instead, if that’s alright?” I remarked as I topped off her drink.

“Shut the hell up,” she giggled as she threw the remaining chunk of apple core at me. I ducked it expertly. I handed her the mug of black coffee and added cream and sugar to my own, stirring it rhythmically with a silver spoon. It clinked musically in the quiet of nature.

“How’s Peyton, by the way?” she batted her long eyelashes when she asked this question.

“Great,” I said shortly, watching the swirl of my coffee come to a lull. “Got a new job in the city. Pays well. We’re actually celebrating later tonight,” I elaborated. My thoughts drifted to the taste of vanilla ice cream and the laugh track of a cheesy sitcom—a typical Saturday night at home with Peyton. The house would always smell like artificial pine from the preceding day of cleaning. We would relax and unwind in this fashion, keeping in line with what seemed like an almost regimental schedule.

“That’s great!” Elliot cheered. She brought her mug to her rose-colored lips and took a drink from her coffee.

“Ow! Fuck!” she shouted, her impatience was rewarded with a scorched tongue.

“You dumbass,” I teased her, taking a cautious sip from my own mug. “Ow! Fuck!” I burned my mouth, too.

“What was that?” she taunted through a raised eyebrow.

“Shut the hell up!”

Elliot grinned and looked off into the thicket. The apples would be going out of season, soon. The light that broke the trees caught her auburn hair and made it look like a fiery halo enveloped her head. She took another drink of her coffee. She didn’t burn herself that time.

“How was your trip to Yosemite?” I asked her, snapping out of my trance-like stare.

“It was great! You’d be amazed at how cathartic it is being surrounded by all the pine and cedar trees. The air smells so right—the way air ought to smell, you know?”

“Yeah, totally!” I agreed enthusiastically. She had the greatest adventures. I’d always wanted to go on one with her. Just listening to her tell stories of them made my heart race. Occasionally, Peyton and I would go on a tandem bike ride through a local park. We’d feed the ducks and pick flowers for each other. It was a peaceful life. But we never really adventured.

“You should come with Cameron and me some day,” she offered as she dropped her gaze and sifted through the picnic basket.

“Yeah, totally,” I agreed again. I plucked a blade of grass from the perimeter of the blanket and rolled it between my thumb and forefinger.

“How is Cameron, by the way?” I asked her.

“Cameron is great,” she looked up at me and didn’t blink, “our five-year anniversary is this week, in fact.”

“That’s great,” I smiled.

I thought about when Peyton and I had shared our five-year anniversary. We had reservations at our usual restaurant—some almost-fancy place downtown. The waiter confused us for siblings. We laughed about it later that night in bed.

“Are you doing anything special?” I asked her.

“I dunno. I never plan that far ahead.”

“I like your style, kid.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

We pulled our sandwiches from the wicker basket and ate them in silence for a moment. A breeze came through and blew a clutch of leaves between us, pulling up the east corner of the blanket, but we paid it no mind. Elliot brushed the hair from her face and giggled at me. Or maybe she just giggled because it was a funny thing to happen; I don’t know. I chuckled sympathetically.

“It’s getting late,” Elliot remarked.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Elliot’s golden halo had disappeared as the sun set behind the trees. Her neatly curled hair was no longer neat as a consequence of the wind. She looked like the wily spirit I knew her to be. Elliot never did anything by the book. I was reminded of a time when I went over to her place to help her build some furniture, and she had thrown away the instruction manual on purpose. She told me that it would be more fun that way. It was.

That same year, Peyton surprised me with a hand-crafted, cherry-stained coffee table meant for our living room on Valentine’s Day. I used to watch TV and read books on our couch in there, but the coffee table that we’d had for years was too short to hold anything within comfortable reach. I used to hold my mugs until they got cold because it was more convenient. Peyton spent weeks in the studio putting the whole table together. It was a gorgeous, thoughtful gift, and it was the only piece of furniture that we took with us when we moved to accommodate Peyton’s new job.

“Come on; help me pack up,” Elliot said to me as the sky grew darker. The fireflies had come out to play, and I realized that I’d never seen another person by such a light source before. It was like looking through a curtain of Christmas lights; I could see them reflected in Elliot’s hazel eyes as they danced around carelessly. She hastily tossed things into the picnic basket and I heard a mug shatter. She laughed; so did I.

“So what are you going to do when you get home?” I asked her as we walked back to our cars.

“I dunno. That’s a long time from now,” she replied.

“Don’t you only live an hour away?”

She shrugged, “Eh, I guess I just don’t think about it much.”

“Do you think about anything much?”

Elliot bit her lip and stared at her shoes, “Sure I do.”

We got to our cars and loaded our respective belongings—she took the blanket; I took the wicker basket.

“Will I see you again, soon?” I asked her.

“Maybe. If you’re lucky,” she unlocked her car.

“When will that be?”

“In your dreams, probably,” she winked, got in her car, and turned the ignition. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. She rolled down her window to say her last goodbyes.

“Tell Peyton I said hello.”

“Tell Cam I said the same.” Did anybody ever really follow through with that when they were told to do so?

“Oh, and Emily, before you go…” She said to me. I hadn’t taken my keys out of my pocket, yet.

“Yes?”

She rolled up her window, mouthed a few words that I didn’t catch, smiled, and drove away.