What A Beautiful Day

I was walked into the cafe at noon and noticed Kris sitting in the booth farthest from the door. I got two coffee before I walked up to the table and sat down, handing Kris a coffee.

"Hey," I smiled.

"Hey, and thanks," Kris said, returning the smile. "How was your day so far?"

"Not too bad," I said. "I spent the morning doing homework and getting some stuff together for the next time I work. What about you?"

"I wasn't too busy," Kris shrugged. "I had practice at eight and that's about it."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Practice for what?"

"Hockey," Kris replied, looking down at the table.

"Cool," I said. "Do you play in the NHL then?"

"I do," Kris nodded.

"What position?"

"Defense."

"My brother used to play defense," I told him.

"Does he still play?" Kris asked.

"Um, no," I said, looking down. "He passed away a couple years ago."

"I'm sorry," Kris said, his voice sincere. "That must have been tough."

"It was," I nodded. "He got into a car accident on his way home from a camping trip with a few of his friends. It happened a couple weeks after I finished finals and I spent the entire summer trying to make my life feel right again."

"I understand," Kris said. "My best friend got into a motorcycle crash a couple years ago. He was killed. It was during the Stanley Cup finals. I wasn't in the best shape and losing the cup didn't help. I spent my summer trying to make things right."

"I'm sorry," I said. "What was his name?"

Kris looked up me a little startled. "Luc Bourdon."

"I was just curious," I said. "Did he play hockey too?"

"Yes, he played for the Vancouver Canucks," Kris nodded. "What was your brother's name?"

"Brooks," I said. "Where are you from?"

"Quebec," Kris said. "It's in Canada."

"I know," I chuckled. "Where in Quebec?"

"Montreal," Kris said, his cheeks red in embarrassment.

"Neat," I said. "I haven't been there, yet."

"Maybe one day I can take you and show you around," Kris said, his cheeks getting redder.

"Maybe," I agreed.

"So, where are you from?" Kris asked, regaining his composure.

"Viscount, Saskatchewan," I replied. "It's in Canada."

"Ha, ha," Kris rolled his eyes. "So, I hate to be stereotypical, but did you live on a farm?"

"I did," I nodded. "The farm is under my name, actually. My parents moved to Sasktoon after Brooks passed and gave me the farm. It sits there, vacant, most of the year, but I go back there every summer. It's like my summer house."

"That's cool," Kris said. "Do you go to school here then?"

"I'm at the University of Pittsburgh," I said.

"What are you taking?"

"Athletic training."

"Really? That's awesome," Kris smiled. "Are you almost finished?"

"This is my last year," I grinned.

"Where are you working?" Kris asked.

"I'm doing some practicum with the university football team," I said, like it was no big deal. "And I work at a corner store on the weekends, usually the late night shift."

"Bummer," Kris said, scrunching his nose. "Late night shifts must suck."

"Sometimes," I shrugged. "If it's not busy, I just do homework."

"That makes sense," Kris said.

We continued to talk for the rest of the afternoon. We left around five because I had to work at six-thirty.

"Can I see you again?" Kris asked as we left the cafe.

"Sure," I said. "Here's my number, call me sometime." I handed him a piece of paper after I wrote down my mobile number.

"I'll be sure to do that," Kris smiled. "Goodbye, have fun at work."

"I'll try," I grinned. "Goodbye, Kris."