We spend Sunday together, in and out of bed till five in the afternoon. Then, once we're both worn out and getting sore and unable to muster energy for another go, we get dressed and she drives us downtown for dinner. I'm wearing Elizabeth clothes she borrowed me, I don't have a speck of makeup on my face and my hair has dried all over the place from sleeping on it wet.
The last thing I'm dressed for is fine dining, but Elizabeth doesn't seem to care. We go to a sushi place where you have to take off your shoes at the door and sit on tatamis in a little booth walled off by bamboo screens. She orders sake that feels like silk on my tongue and a thousand little square ceramic dishes piled with sushi and sashimi. I can't stop giggling at the giant clams even though the waitress gives us odd looks.
She tops off the tiny ceramic cup and I take a gulp of sake.
"Watch out," Elizabeth says with a grin. "It's got more alcohol than wine."
