Page 61 of Compassion

The one that eats Skittles in the color of the rainbow and belts Gym Class Heroes songs while folding laundry and tries not to cry every time she watches – or rereads –A Walk to Rememberis the person I’ve come to know and fall for against my more responsible judgement.

There’s just something about her that does that to me.

Makes me forget that I’m less of a man than others.

Less of an unworthy human.

And learning everything I can about the real version ofthat woman…that curly haired, smells like cookie dough, brown skinned female is my main mission in life.

And I don’t plan to fail it.

Or her.

Ever.

We clear?

“Sweetheart, I’m not asking for the ingredients to yourfavoritesoup – however, I am open to making it for you if you like.” The offering shifts a smile back onto her face. “I was just trying to see if you liked soup at all.”

She drops her hands onto her thick, off-white sweater dress covered hips on a loud hum. “I guess I don’t really know anymore. It’s been so long since I’ve had any. Dad prefers chowders because they’re thicker and heartier and have more meat, but Mom rarely ever makes those, and I honestly can’t remember the last time she even thought about making soup.”

“Maybe we could try that place on one of our future dates?” The question is followed by my hand finding hers. “You know when I can afford a bowl.”

Jaye sweetly smiles and gently tugs us towards our actual destination. “We’ll start a list of places to go together and keep it on the fridge.” I’m shot a sweetly scolding expressing. “And who will be picking up the tab for those dates willnotbe included.”

Inside the bookstore, we’re immediately given a warm, loud welcoming. The people behind the counter enthusiastically yell, “Crack That!” and those in the store shopping happily reply “Spine”.

Did not expect that shit.

Jaye giddily giggles as she leads me to the right, the direction of children’s books according to the dangling from the ceiling street style sign. “I fuckinglovethis place. The energy. The excitement. Thatsmell.” She suddenly sucks in a giant gulp of air. “Plus, they have the largest section of diverse books – for both kids and adults – in the entire city. This is my go-to choice for every specialty topic that comes up. Whether I’m looking for books to acknowledge or celebrate the differences in cultures or how families are shaped or built or even something emotionally specific like building self-esteem – shout out toGiraffe’s Can’t Dancefor assisting in that one –thisplace is perfect. They have a whole team of buyers whospecificallyaim to keeping the shelves stocked with more than just ‘basic mainstream’ shit for both children and adults.”

Fuck. Me. Is there anything sexier than listening to her excitedly go off about something? Nah, I don’t think she’s rambling. I just think she’s passionate.

“I’m sold.” The grin that grows on my face is bright and genuine. “Show me around, sweetheart.”

Correct choice of words I guess given the way I’m instantly rewarded with a hot, sloppy kiss that makes walking around the kids’ section a bit awkward for the first two minutes.

Jaye ardently points out the different sections, pulls various random books to browse, asks my opinion, and slowly turns me into a walking bookshelf as she stacks new “must-haves” for her personal collection as much as the school.

Eventually, we escape the jungle themed area to explore the next which is the hobby section. Its décor is tailored to that of a workshop, and to my surprise, I rather like it. We discuss different types of hobbies; however, instead of focusing on the ones we know the other likes, we search for ones that perhaps we don’t, leading to Jaye adding a book about Toy Voyaging for her and Upcycling for me.

Before I can be guided elsewhere, I swing back by the front to grab an actual basket and meet her in the romance section making sure to steer clear of the War & Military section on the way there. The whole territory is bright and bold. Decorated with zebra print and tiger stripes and random lip stick kisses – both stickers and painted on. Oversized chairs and beanbags are available for lounging, creating a come one, come all and stay vibe, yet it’s the way that my girlfriend is mindlessly stacking everything that catches her attention for longer than a minute that draws me in. Rushes me to her side. Assists in stacking the books carefully inside.

Guilt grows in her gaze after she glances at the growing amount of materials we’ve collected. “Maybe we should go to a sectionyoulike now? I think we’ve got me covered.”

“Sweetheart, if you wanna keep shopping for books foryou, keep shopping for books for you. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“We really do,” she swiftly coos. “They don’t close until midnight – unless of course they’re hosting a book slumber party. They even play the chime that Cinderella rushes away to in the movie to let you know they’re closed.”

“Did you say a book slumber party?”

Her head frantically bobs. “I’ve never been, but Isowanna go!”

“We’ll add that to the list then.”

Jaye squeaks in joy, plants another kiss on my lips that has me having to hide my hard on with the cart, and leads us away from the romance section after snatching up two more books. Browsing the classics section is followed by thumbing through a few in the fiction section; however, the minute she makes an attempt to pull me into the area I want to avoid, I suggest we check out mystery. Suspense. Distract her with questions about nonfiction novels and hone our attention there. Under her insistence, I add a couple of sports history reads by Jeff Pearlman and encourage us to check before she can redirect us to the area that I’m anxious to evade.

It isn’t until we’re back in the car that she actively decides to investigate what I thought I was being sly about. “Do you always avoid military related things?”

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