Travelling Light Read Online Free PDF Page A

company.
    Molly leaned over and whispered in Joan’s ear.
    â€œI’m not going to do anything,” Joan said. She pressed the binoculars to her eyes. Tonight she smelled of warm wax, Ross thought, like candles being extinguished. Every time the Canadiens had control of the puck and pressed the Boston goal, people around them stood up. Joan stood up too but she kept the binoculars pressed to her eyes.
    At the end of the period Boston was ahead by one goal. The Tremblays rose from their seats.
    â€œWant a Coke? Want a hot dog?” Joan asked Ross.
    They went downstairs and behind the stands, where the concessions and restrooms were. The cement floor was strewn with litter that had been flattened by thousands of pairs of shoes. Ross noticed the Tremblays in front of one of the booths, sipping drinks from plastic cups. Monsieur wore his camel-hair overcoat draped elegantly across his shoulders, like a cloak.
    â€œWhy did he have to bring her?” Joan said. “What am I supposed to do now?”
    â€œWant a Coke?” said Ross. “I’ll buy you one. I have money.”
    Then Molly appeared out of the crowd and took Joan’s elbow. Molly began steering her towards the ladies’ room. “We’ll see you back at the seats,” Molly told Ross. “Can you find your own way?”
    â€œSure.”
    Ross joined the line at a concession stand and bought two Cokes in plastic cups. The Tremblays were a few feet away, talking with another well-dressed couple.
    A buzzer sounded and people began pressing into the passageway that led to the arena. The second period was about to start. Ross found himself squeezed right behind the Tremblays, close enough to catch a whiff of Madame Tremblay’s perfume, the same as his mother’s: Chanel No. 5.
    The crowd was eager to see the face-off and he was being pushed right up against Monsieur Tremblay. The two cups of Coke were very full. He hadn’t had time to snap the lids on and the first time he spilled some, it was an accident. The puck was dropped and the crowd roared and he couldn’t see a thing. Then he spilled another splash of Coke onto Monsieur’s camel-hair coat. He did it deliberately, not thinking why he was doing it, and not caring if he was caught. It soaked into the camel-hair coat which was the colour of butter, almost. Little brown drops dripped from the hem. But Monsieur didn’t turn around — he hadn’t felt a thing. Ross knew all about spilled Coke — it was sticky. It made a mess. He kept sloshing Coke out as they started up the steep arena stairs. He was right behind the Tremblays but they didn’t turn around; like everyone else they were in a hurry to get back to their seats and enjoy the rest of the game. He had splashed out half of the Coke in both cups before the Tremblays reached their row and people started standing up to allow the couple to get to their seats.
    What was left of the Coke he dumped into one cup, dropping the empty on the stairs. When he reached his seat he handed the Coke to Joan and she immediately asked for a straw, which he had forgotten to get, but she drank it anyway, and her eyes kept shifting back and forth, back and forth between the action on the ice and the Tremblays.
    In the intermission between the second and third periods the Tremblays stayed in their seats. Frank brought hot dogs for Ross and Joan and Molly. Joan kept the binoculars pressed so hard to her face that they left red rings around her eyes.
    â€œYou look like a bird,” said Molly. “A flamingo or something, like in Florida.”
    At the beginning of the third period the Canadiens scored two quick goals. Boston came back and tied the game. With two minutes of play left, Ross watched Beliveau charge down the ice, nuzzling the puck on his stick. Beliveau lured the Boston goalie from his crease, shouldered aside a defenceman, and made a deke that had the goalie sprawling on the ice. Then