Between Two Eternities || Travis Hamonic

(13) Lips Taste Like Sangria

"Don't allow your mind to tell your heart what to do. The mind gives up easily."

-Paulo Coelho

"What do you think of this one, dear?"

I sigh and revert my attention away from the rack of sports apparel and back to Molly, a few feet down. She's admiring a hockey stick wrapped up in plastic. "Aunt Molly, you don't have to get him a new stick. He still has one left."

It's not even Matt's birthday, but Molly dragged me to Sports Authority. It's not Christmas either, or the Fourth of July, or Arbor Day.

It's not anything.

It's just Tuesday.

"Oh nonsense. What happens when that one breaks?" She asks with raised eyebrows.

That's funny to me. Since Molly never thinks too far in advance. She's an in-the-moment type of woman.

I think she feels bad that she's been working so much lately. But Matt doesn't mind. He's thirteen; It's not like he wants to spend all his time with his ... legal guardian, right?

It's inevitable. Teenagers just don't want to be seen with adults. They want to be adults. They try to act like adults. But they do not want to be with adults.

A little stupid if you think about it.

They'll do anything to avoid adults, but no teenager would turn down a gift.

Knowing that she won't be changing her mind anytime soon, I help make the decision on which stick to buy. We get it down to two, but really we just like the colors. "I don't know," Molly mumbles, "I like them both."

"Er ... how about I call Travis?" I suggest.

"Oh what a wonderful idea! That way we don't waste money on something that's wrong," she says.

I nod, pull out my cell phone, and dial Travis's number. It takes him a while to answer, so long I think about just hanging up. Finally I hear the line pick up. "Hey Arden, I see you can't wait any longer to hear my voice," he greets cheekily.

Our nightly phone calls have become routine.

"Cute, Travis. But I actually called to ask you a question. I need help picking a stick for Matt," I say, drifting away from Molly for some privacy.

"Coming to me for help, what else is new?" he says arrogantly.

Within ten minutes, me reading out labels I don't understand, and a few more flirty comments inserted by him ... Molly was up at the register ready to pay.

I stay on the phone as I walk to the car. "Thanks for the help," I say to him and switch my phone to my other ear.

"Yeah it's no problem. Hey we still on for that call tonight?"

"Of course."

The gift was a good call. Matt was ecstatic when Molly gave it to him.

She wrapped it up in blue paper, but wrapping a hockey stick doesn't conceal its identity very well. It took him forever to rip all that paper off though.

"Wow," he practically whispers.

Even I have to say it is nice. But what do I know about hockey sticks?

I don't know what the size or weight means or how curved the end has to be or whatever Matt is babbling on about how it's perfect in all those oh-so important areas; Travis helped with all that.

I just judged it based on how it looked. It is white and blue and really sleek looking.
Matt put red tape around the handle, because he said it would match his gloves.