“I like the feel of paper. I think we lost something when the schools went all digital.”
“You talk like my Aunt Joyce, and she’s seventy-three.”
“I also take that as a compliment.”
I take my time. Read every page, because reading what you sign is rule one, and because going slow makes her a little nuts, and she gets chatty when she’s a little nuts.
And boy…I could chat with her all day if she’d let me.
I’ve got the paper clip out without deciding to, working it on the tabletop while I read. Out and back. She watches my hand do it.
“You still have that?” she asks.
“Told you. I keep dumb stuff.”
“It’s been six days.”
“Yeah. Well.” I set it on the table between us, same as I did at the rink. “Still yours if you want it.”
She looks at it. Doesn’t take it. Again.
“You keep not taking it,” I say.
“Taking it would mean something to you?”
“Everything means something with you. It’s my favorite thing about you so far.”
She grows quiet, and I go back to the form.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she says after a second.
“Doing what?”
“Reading slow.”
“Is it working?”
“Page four, Adams.”
I flip there. “Okay, this is the same thing your dad said. One incident, I’m done, no appeal.”
“And I won’t cover for you. I want you to know that going in. We’re not buddies. You mess up, I write it down. That’s the job.”
“I know it’s the job.”
“Then we understand each other.”
“Yep.” I sign the bottom of five and six and put the pen down. Then I don’t pick the conversation back up where she parked it, because I’ve got a question that’s been sitting in my chest for days. “Can I ask you something that isn’t about hockey?”
“No.”
“You cut the crusts off your sandwich yesterday. In the stairwell.”
She goes very still. “You’re watching me eat lunch now?”
“Not watching. Noticing. Different thing.” I lean in. “The crusts. Is it because of the texture?”
For a second, I think I’ve gone too far, and she’s going to bolt. Her thumb starts going on the edge of the table, slow, the thing she does when the room gets loud in her head. Then, in a soft voice, like it costs her something: “Texture.”
