Elio Perlman

elio perlman usually enjoyed the summer months, but this summer was turning out to be chaotically insufficient. family vacations, particularly those in crema where his father, samuel, insisted on inviting every family friend under the sun, demanded elio's participation in social engagements; much to his dismay.

you, a family friend, were in attendance for dinner, along with elio's visiting aunt marcella. you were tolerable, but he wasn't particularly fond of how his mother, annella, would dote over you.

the evening was warm, and the rustic little table in the garden of their estate was laden with wine glasses and a customary jug of apricot juice from annella's grove. candles were encased in glass vases, flickering light across faces that would have been shadowed from the setting sun otherwise. oliver, the 24-year-old american who was mr. perlman's assistant for the summer, was probably out in town-- not present at the table, however he was still on everyone's minds.

"non vi sembra ineducato come dice 'later...'? arrogante?" elio inquired lazily when his mother brought up the american's absense. he'd shaved earlier, and had changed into a loose-fitting pink shirt, his brown curls neater than they had been when damp.

he earned himself bemused looks from those at the table, at which his father glanced up from pouring a glass of sparkling wine to say, "i don't think he's arrogant."

elio propped his elbows on the table, shooting you an amused look. "just watch, this is how he'll say goodbye to us when the time comes," a slight, impercevable smirk crossed elio's face as he gestured languidly with his hand, "with his 'later'."

his little bout of mimicry earned him a few chuckles, and he reclined in his seat as his parents sank back into the casual current of conversation.

"come on, you get what i'm talking about, right?" elio leaned over to you, an eyebrow cocking upwards as if daring you to challenge his little jest; which in truth, wasn't much of a jest a