Page 61 of Hockey 101
Jack’s face grows serious. Can we make a deal to be honest with each other?
I don’t know, that sounds like the punishment in a Greek myth or a Jim Carrey movie.
We don’t have to be brutally I hate your new haircut honest. Just honest about the important things. Please. His hazel eyes bore into mine.
Sure. I think I’m pretty honest anyway.
Thank you. He plants a brief, warm kiss on the top of my head, and I feel reassured.
Let’s get to book shopping, I say.
Jack releases me and smooths my hair over my shoulder. See you in an hour, beautiful.
I watch as he heads to the non-fiction section, then plan my hour: first the new book section, then bargain books, then some random wandering. While I love being able to order whatever book I want online, there’s something about the serendipity of discovering a book that I didn’t even know existed that’s magical. I browse, read the staff recommendations, and leaf through anything with an intriguing cover.
Naturally, the hour flies by. I meet Jack with my cloth tote stuffed with books.
Wow. You bought a lot. He smiles and reaches over to carry my bag for me.
Ha! This is actually me being restrained. I have a book budget, and I stick to it. But I did find two books I really wanted to read—on sale, I say with satisfaction.
We stroll down the sidewalk.
So, you love a good bargain? he asks.
Definitely. Thanks to my RA job, I have more money than I budgeted for this year. But I still can’t go crazy. Besides, I don’t spend a lot on clothes or entertainment. Books are my indulgence.
Jack has a huge grin.
What is it? I ask.
I like your enthusiasm. It’s cute.
Did you buy anything? I hope this whole bookstore excursion wasn’t solely for me.
I actually read the latest volume in a graphic novel series I’m following. And I bought this. He pulls a battered paperback out of his jacket pocket and passes it to me.
The Hockey Handbook. I turn it over and skim the back. So it’s a guidebook for coaches and players? It looks pretty old.
Yeah, even this edition is a re-issue. It was written back in the fifties. One of my coaches said it was the best book ever written about playing hockey, but I’ve never seen it in a store before. Maybe I’ll learn something.
Are you always trying to get better? I hand the book back.
Jack shrugs. I got a late start in competitive hockey, so I always feel like I’m playing catch-up. He puts the book away.
Where are we going now? I ask.
I thought we’d wander around and find a restaurant that looks good. There are a bunch in this direction.
I reach for my phone. Or we could check the map and see which restaurants near us have the best ratings.
Ah, yes. The spontaneous method. He rolls his eyes.
I can be spontaneous, I lie.
Let’s test that. Close your eyes, he urges me.
What? No way, it’s too dangerous, I protest, but Jack insists. He hooks my arm into his and guides me along. Of course, I peek a little, but mostly to get my bearings. I don’t look at the restaurant until we’re inside, seated at a table in an older building with modern black tables and sleek chairs.
