Have Some Cake
Christmas: Montreal, QC
Montreal, Québec, Canada
Pierre-Luc Dubois ambles down the snow-blanketed sidewalks of Downtown Montreal. Soft snow drifts around him as warm lampposts to his left light up the dim winter day. He pulls out his smartphone from his jacket’s pocket and peers down at it.
His phone displays a checklist. All of the bubbles have been filled except for the last one: Chocolats comme cadeau pour Maman et Papa.
A smile grows on his face. He then peers back up and continues strolling.
Small shops pass by him to his right, displaying their holiday-themed products on their large windows. Each window is bordered by Christmas lights, snow, and garlands; the warm lights from the shop cast faded, golden rays into the cool, grey outside.
Pierre-Luc’s eyes reflect the lights as he gazes each passing window. The windows show their products among mannequins of Santa and plush reindeers: winter coats, homemade toys, baskets of bath supplies, boxes of chocolates.
Pierre-Luc halts at the glimmer of gold catching the corner of his eye. He backs up to the large window and peers inside it.
On the other side, among the blanket of white felt and slim boxes is a stack of three boxes of chocolates held together by a brilliant red bow.
Pierre-Luc presses his palms against the glass as his eyes sparkle at the gift. “C'est parfait!” he murmurs.
He then rushes into the store, being greeted by the rush of mellow air and the sweet aroma of chocolates. He stops in the middle of the entrance and gazes ahead.
On the other side is the section of holiday chocolates. And on an empty shelf against the wall, in all of its glory, is the exact box of chocolates.
Pierre-Luc strides up to the shelf with his eyes glued on it. The box bounces closer to him. With a large grin as he approaches it, Pierre-Luc reaches his hands out to it.
And the box is swiped away by another pair of hands.
Pierre-Luc freezes in place, overcome with utter shock. He then blinks in confusion, loosening himself. He turns to his right, from where the hands came.
Standing next to him is Victor Mete. His attention is on the three-in-one gift of chocolates in his hands. He has it held to his vision as he inspects it.
Pierre-Luc stares at Victor, his grey-blue eyes piercing at the gift. The box turns, spins, tilts, pans in the defenceman’s hands. Pierre-Luc’s heart is racing; he’s sweating; his clammy hands are in fists; his eyes follow the whirling box.
Then Victor holds the box still at his eye level. He nods, turns around, and walks away.
Pierre-Luc gapes. He then glances at the shelves to his left.
The cream-coloured walls behind the shelves stare back at him.
He whirls back ahead of him. Victor is approaching the long line in front of the cash register. Poking out from behind his shoulder is the red bow of the chocolates.
Pierre-Luc swallows, gathering his confidence, and shouts in his French-Canadian accent, “Hey! Victor!”
Victor halts. He then whirls around, his face full of surprise.
Pierre-Luc steps up to him cautiously. “Are you going to buy that chocolate?” He points to the gift in his hands.
Victor peers down at it. “Uh, yeah.” He gazes back up at him. “How else can I eat it legally?”
“Well, I was actually going to take it…” He points to the window. “I saw it out there…”
Victor’s mouth falls flat. “Oh. Sorry.” He shrugs. “Gotta wait until the next shipment.” He then turns around and strolls back toward the line.
Pierre-Luc’s face goes blank; he dips it in deep thought. “My parents need it for tonight…!” he mutters. “And they love chocolate…!” He then lifts his head and throws his hand out at him. “Wait!”
Victor turns back around with a subtle annoyed look.
Pierre-Luc shuffles up to him. “I really need that box of chocolate…” He halts and dips head. “It’s for my parents.
Victor glances at the chocolates, then back at him. “There’s more chocolates around here.”
Pierre-Luc stares at the gift in his arms in awe. “But those chocolates are perfect for them…!”
“What if they’re perfect for me?”
Pierre-Luc shoots him an unamused expression.
Victor chuckles, leaning back. “I’ll tell you what: you want these chocolates?” He holds the stack of three boxes out at him.
Pierre-Luc’s eyes light up at them. “Yes! For my parents!”
“Cool. You can get them if—” He pulls the box away and leans closer to him. “—you can beat me in pond hockey.” He smirks sets on his face. “First one to score two goals out of three gets them.”
Pierre-Luc leans away with a grave look. “Très bien. I’ll meet you at the pond nearby in thirty minutes.” He holds his left wrist up and taps on his wristwatch. “Be there.”
Victor nods at him. “You have my word.”
Pierre-Luc then breezes by him.
Sticks are propped on the park bench, their blades slipping through the fluffy snow.
The three boxes of chocolates held together by the red bow are set on the park bench.
Skate laces are tightened and tied.
Hockey gloves are slipped on.
Helmet straps are snapped together.
Blades of skates clomp onto the ice from the snowy bank and glide across the smooth surface.
Victor and Pierre-Luc brake at the middle of the ice, becoming head to head. Their sticks are held against their thighs.
“Ready?” Victor asks.
Pierre-Luc nods, gazing at his opponent from behind his visor.
Victor pulls the puck from his jacket’s pocket and plops it on the ice, in between them. He then readjusts his position and chants: “Three. Two. One. GO!”
The two jab at the puck before Pierre-Luc takes it into his stick’s blade and drifts backward. He looks for an angle to go around Victor.
Victor reaches forward with his stick and pokes the puck out, letting it bounce to the back corner.
Victor speeds past the forward and toward the puck. Pierre-Luc whirls around to chase after him. Victor swipes it into his possession and brings it next to him to stuff it into the net.
Victor raises his gloves. “One goal!”
Pierre-Luc glides to the net and throws the puck out.
Victor catches the pass with his stick. “Let’s get that last goal.”
Pierre-Luc skates to the middle of the ice again. Victor glides up to him, pushing the puck in between them. He pulls his stick away and places it against his thighs as he bends over.
Pierre-Luc does the same, glaring at him.
“Three…,” Victor counts down again. “...two...one...GO!”
Victor snatches the puck and dashes up past the forward and up to the net. Pierre-Luc spins around and chases after him, again.
Victor raises his stick as he glides, ready to slap the puck. Yet he whizzes by the puck, leaving it behind.
Pierre-Luc spots the lone puck; his eyes brighten up. He passes by it and turns around to gain possession of it. He then skates down toward the other side of the ice.
With a groan, Victor turns around and chases after him.
On the other side of the ice, Pierre-Luc aims his blade with his eyes on the net. He then lifts the puck into the air, sending it into the net.
Pierre-Luc glides down the ice and makes the turn at the corner with his hands in the air.
Victor gets the puck from the net and approaches him at centre ice. “It’s sudden death now.” He halts in front of him. “Next goal takes all.”
Pierre-Luc nods with an austere expression. “Très bien.”
An exclamation in a foreign language then sounds through the glade, freezing the two hockey players. After the foreign speech echoes away, they turn to the bench, from where the voice came.
Standing next to the bench, gazing at the gift now in his hand is Patrik Laine. He has his light blond hair slicked back and sticking out in all directions behind his neck; his beard is growing back, making him appear like Sasquatch. He is holding a bindle with his free hand.
Victor gawks at the tall player with a tilt of his head. “Laine? What are you doing here?”
Patrik straightens up and stares ahead. He then whirls his head to gaze at the two. His face lights up. “Oh, hello!” he remarks in his Finnish accent. He holds the chocolates in the air. “Are these yours?”
“Uh, well…” The defenceman darts eyes between him and Pierre-Luc. “...maybe.” He lands them back on the Finn.
“Can I take them?” He flashes the two a crooked-tooth grin. “This is the perfect gift to share with my family in Finland!”
Victor shoots him a glare. “Uh, no. We’re playing a game so that one of us can have it.”
“It’s for my parents,” Pierre-Luc adds in innocently.
His eyes light up. “Can I join? I’ll play for these!” He raises the chocolates in the air.
Victor furrows his eyebrows at him. “Do you even have skates? A stick? Gloves?”
Patrik grins. He puts the chocolates back on the park bench and swings his blindle onto the bench. He unfolds the blanket, revealing his helmet, skates, and gloves. He slips those on before grabbing the stick, which is in fact his hockey stick.
The Finn glides onto the ice and brake in front of the two. “So, what’s the situation?”
Victor leans against his stick. “Sudden death.”
Patrik’s faded eyebrows shoot up. “Very intense! I like it!”
Pierre-Luc frowns.
Victor puts the puck in between the three. He then bends forward.
The two do the same, getting into their face-off stances.
“Three…,” Victor starts again, “...two...one...GO!”
Victor swipes the puck into his possession, causing Pierre-Luc and Patrik to skate backward in front of him. Pierre-Luc, being the closest to Victor, juts his stick at the puck. Victor swings the puck away and then launches it toward the net.
Pierre-Luc throws his stick up, knocking the flying puck back on the ice. He then bursts past the two and toward the opposite end of the ice.
The crisp air hits his rosy face.
The wide-empty net is approaching shakily.
The imagination of his parents enjoying the chocolates in their cozy home flashes through his mind.
Joy blossoms through him.
Then something hits the blade of his stick. He peers down.
Another blade pulls the puck from his possession and out of his vision. He gasps and looks up next to him.
Patrik gives him a toothy grin and a wink before spinning around and whizzing out of site.
Pierre-Luc turns around and flies after him.
Patrik pushes down the ice with the puck, having Victor defending him. The Finn sharply turns out to his right, going back up the ice, but then makes a curve to face the net and rockets the puck past Victor and into the net.
Patrik skates around and shakes his free hand in the air. “Kippis!” He pats each man on the shoulder as he makes his way to the bench. “It was a good game.”
Patrik stalks up to chocolates, shakes off his gloves, and picks it up. “I take a souvenir with every major city I pass by,” he tells it. “Or one that I find interesting.” He turns to the two Canadians. “My family in Finland for sure will enjoy this! Kiitos!”
With that, Patrik gathers his hockey items into his blanket, ties it up onto the shaft of his stick near the blade, swings the stick over his shoulder, and marches off toward the evergreens with the gift under his arm.
Victor and Pierre-Luc are now the only ones left on the ice once again.
Victor eyes the Finn approaching the dense line of trees. “Is he...walking by foot?”
Pierre-Luc shrugs as he watches Patrik disappear into the greens.
Victor huffs. “Well, there goes forty dollars.”
“At least his family will enjoy it,” Pierre-Luc speaks at the trees.
Victor glides toward the bench with a sullen expression.
Pierre-Luc reverts his eyes to him. He holds his free hand up. “Wait, Victor!”
Victor halts and spins around.
“What if we go chocolate shopping together?” He shoots him an amiable smile. “We can find more chocolates for our needs.”
Victor raises his eyebrows. “Great!” He rushes onto the snowy shore, trudges through the snow, and plops onto the bench.
“Come on and take off your skates!” He pats on the space next to him. “We gotta get the best selection of chocolates before they all run out!”
Glee appears on Pierre-Luc’s face. He skates off the ice and plods through the snow to Victor’s side. He then sits next to him and begins taking off his skates as they exchange joyful words.
The End.
