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.

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