Page 33 of The Import Slot
I laugh, though it’s such a rational thought. “Of course, of course. He’s from Boston but moved to B.C. when he met my mom. Insisted that he keep his accent,” I say.
“Oh wow. How did they meet?” she asks.
“Hockey,” I say, and she laughs, throwing her head back.
“I should have known.”
“My Uncle Gerrard, my mother’s brother, was friends with my dad at some training camp. They kept in touch, and Dad went and stayed with my Gran and Gramps, and he got to know my mom then.” I talk some more about it before I do something I would never do in front of a girl I’m hot for. I break out my best Boston accent, impersonating my dad. We are in hysterical laughter, and then Jen does her best Canadian accent and I’m impressed.
“Try to do mine,” she says, switching to a failed attempt at Jamaican, causing me to shed tears.
“I can’t!” I say, but she presses it, so I try. It sounds awful, but I like how it makes her laugh, so I do it some more.
“That’s enough, now!” she says, reaching over to silence me, but I grab her hand, lace it with mine and kiss the back of it. I can’t help myself. I love how her hand feels in mine and she doesn’t pull away, so we drive like that for a while.
“Thanks, babe. You really cheer me up,” I say.
“Anytime.”
Jen adjusts the music, and sings along to every song. She only stops when we turn into her parents’ street, turning the volume dial back down and breaking away from my hand.
I keep looking at her, desperate to hold her hand again, like a fucking teenager at the fairground, but when I come to a stop outside the house, she turns toward me.
“Just to warn you, my dad hates everyone.”
“Oh?”
She opens the door and gets out, bounding straight toward the front door.
Jen introduces me as her new best friend. Her mother fusses around offering us tea and cookies, but her dad acts like we aren’t there.
“I thought I could win him over,” I say as we leave in the car. He was abrupt when he talked and commented about hockey not being a proper job, something I’ve heard before.
“He’s always been anti-hockey, hence why I’m closer to my uncle.”
“I can hardly believe they’re related,” I say as we drive.
Jen gets the music going again and we chat. It’s only when we’re almost back in the city that I realise the time.
“Let me buy you dinner,” I say, reaching over to give her a friendly poke.
“I should buy you dinner to thank you for helping me out,” she says.
“Nah, let me. I want to.”
“Fine, but it’s not a date.”
“Not a date.” I agree, but I wish it were.
When I eventually drop her home, and we say our goodbyes, she gets out and leans in through the open window.
“You’re not selfish, by the way.”
“What?”
“Your dad called you selfish, and it’s been bugging me. You’re not selfish; you’re the complete opposite actually. My uncle told me about your donation to the juniors. That’s amazing. You’re amazing.” And then she’s gone and my face aches from smiling so much, but all I can think about is when I will see her next.
Chapter 10
