Page 53 of On His Mind

I nod.

“Okay,” he says.

I take a step to my door, and then I stop. “Do you like banana bread?”

He nods.

“I’ll be right back.”

I head to the kitchen and reach for my magnesium tea packets. I make both of us mugs, and I bring all the banana bread. I set everything down on my desk in front of him. There’s only one chair, so he stands.

“You can sit.”

I turn around and look for my stool. “Here,” I say, carrying it over. “I’ll sit here. You can take the chair.”

He doesn’t move for a second, and then he takes the chair and grabs a mug. He takes a sip, and nothing happens on his face.

“It’s not supposed to taste good,” I say as I take a piece of banana bread and eat it.

He takes a piece and eats it. He nods while looking at me.

We sit quietly, drinking our tea and eating the banana bread. I look down at the magazine he left open. I remember this issue from last year. I turn the page until I find the beautiful kitchen from a house in Montana.

“Look at that view,” I say.

His eyes flick to the magazine.

“Can you imagine?”

“No,” he says.

“My grandmother had a similar stove like that.” I point at it, memories filling my head. “She used to let me stand on a chair and stir things for her.”

He looks down at it again, and then his eyes travel back to my face.

“She passed a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Thank you.” I turn the page. “It’s a beach town where she lived. Cape May. You’d see the Coast Guard marching right up the middle of the street. Have you ever been?”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t heard of it.”

I sip my tea. “I’m sure hockey doesn’t go there.”

“What state is it?”

“New Jersey.”

He nods. “Princeton’s out there.”

“Have you played them?”

“Different conference. Probably never will.”

I hold my cup, not knowing what any of that means.

“How is hockey?” I ask, meeting his eyes. “How’s that going for you?” I hear myself and internally cringe because I sound like my mother when she’s trying to get information out of someone.