Page 91 of Canadian Boyfriend

“Nah, you’re talking exactly the right amount. I like it when you talk.” I also liked it when she swam, when she danced, when she skated. When she kissed me, when she let me into her body. I really liked that, and would remember it fondly always. I even liked it when she busted my ass in her thoughtful, quiet way, like about my aversion to my dad’s Tim Hortons.

I liked when she sat at a stool at my kitchen island and talked to me while I tried to cook. Which was basically what she was doing here, except with a hammock and a tent instead of a stool and a stove.

I just… liked having her around.

Of course, my telling her that I liked it when she talked shut her right up. But she was smiling at me, this really big, delighted, guileless smile.

“What?” I asked, smiling back automatically.

“I think that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I understood that Aurora had been shortchanged by life, but it wasn’t right that an offhand compliment received at age thirty qualified as the nicest thing anyone had said to her. We knew her mother was useless, but what about the ex-boyfriend? Had heneversaid anything kind? Although… while part of me wanted everyone to see and recognize how amazing Aurora was, part of me didn’t. I was protective. Or selfish. I wanted to be the one who said things that made her smile like that.

“You want some wine?” I didn’t want to examine my feelings any further.

“You brought wine?”

I grabbed a can from my kitchen stash.

“In a can!” She sat up in the hammock, and I tossed her the wine. “You brought me wine in a can!”

“It’ll be warm, I’m afraid. I wasn’t sure if you’d rather have red or warm white.”

“Mmm, warm white.” She popped the can. “I love this.”

“You’re easy to please today.”

She shrugged, and I built a fire to heat up some cans of stew.

“This is sogood!” she exclaimed when we tucked into it, continuing to be delighted by my crossing a very low bar. She grew serious. “Why have I never had beef stew before?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m glad I can have it now.”

“I’m glad you can, too.”

She looked up at the sky. “What time is this all going to go down?”

“Late,” I said. “We’ll have to set an alarm.”

“Can we bring our sleeping bags out here and stare at the sky even if the lights aren’t going?”

“We sure can.”

I tried to tell myself it was a long shot. I was disappointed, though, when we got up at midnight and emerged from the tent and there were no lights. At least the stars were out in force. Aurora looked up and exclaimed, “Are you kidding me?”

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” I ducked back into the tent and grabbed our sleeping bags. We laid them on the ground alittle ways away from the tent. I reached into my backpack and handed her some bug spray, then produced a flashlight, water, some chocolate bars, and another can of wine.

“You’re like Mary Poppins with that bag!” she exclaimed. “You came prepared!”

“Iwasin Scouts as a kid.” After we got everything organized, I turned off the lantern, and we lay back.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“It’s something, eh?”

“What is it going to be like if we see the lights?” she asked. “Will I know them when I see them?”

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