by E. J. Noyes
I swallowed a mouthful of water, then a second at her urging. Carefully, I recapped the water. “I’m just going to sit for a moment, if that’s cool? Until my legs come back.”
Her hand was still underneath my jacket, resting on my shoulder, her thumb almost absently massaging the tight muscle. “Absolutely.”
I slid a few feet down the hill, still in the clump of trees, and clipped out. When I sank into the snow, Catherine did the same a few inches away. I felt the warm comfort of her beside me as I tried to settle myself. Deep breathing helped some but the only real cure was time. Or medication.
A hand on my back startled me but she didn’t take it away when I flinched. “This isn’t something you ate, is it?” she asked. I raised an eyebrow and she continued, “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable but I know what anxiety looks like, Aspen.”
After a long pause, she asked another question. “You didn’t retire because of injury, did you?” Her question was quiet and I felt no judgment from her. More a kind sort of sadness which made me want to tell her the truth, even though it wasn’t appropriate.
“No.” I scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it over my face to wash the sticky salt from my cheeks. “The injuries were bad but I could have had more surgery and therapy to overcome them. I just couldn’t find a way past my fear. It was more crippling than all my injuries, new and old.”
“I watched Vancouver,” she said quietly. “I can’t imagine how you must have felt.”
Back when I was trying so hard to recover, I’d watched the footage of my accident so many times it wasn’t even like watching myself anymore. The angle of my leg from the hip dislocation made me look like a carelessly discarded doll, and I was quite good at disassociating from the woman with bone poking up under her race suit where ski boot had torqued against leg to snap both tibia and fibula. The footage only showed a brief glimpse of that bit of course, once they realized how gruesome it was. Then they cut to spectator reactions—specifically my family, coaches, and agent. I still didn’t know what was worse to watch. My broken body, or the expressions on those faces.
After a long exhalation, I finally felt I could speak. “Ahh, then you must have learned some new and creative expletives,” I said shakily.
My lame attempt at levity made her smile. “A couple.” Catherine’s smile faded and she placed a gentle hand on my knee. “I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried. Nobody cares anymore why Aspen Archer retired, Catherine.”
“Call me Cate,” she murmured. “And I care.”
Swiping the back of my hand over my nose, I sniffed as quietly as I could. “I’m very sorry about this, it’s unprofessional. I’ll talk to Tess, there won’t be any charge for this lesson.”
“Aspen, no, don’t be silly. I’m not concerned about that.” She squeezed my forearm gently. “At all.”
“I’m pretty embarrassed.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
I drew a shuddering breath. “How about I take you for a couple of runs tomorrow once I’m done for the day, and make it up to you?”
She gave me that smile again, the same one she’d shown after every run. Excitement. Pleasure. “I’d really like that. If you’re okay with it.” The unspoken suggestion lingered between us.
“I’ll be fine, promise.” My heart stuttered. I wanted to tell her that I’d like it too. “I’ll be ready around three.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay…great. You know, I think I’m good to go.” Not quite, but I couldn’t sit there any longer with her soft, understanding expression. It was too sweet, too comforting and too confusing. I stood up and brushed myself off then offered a hand to help her stand.
As Cate brushed herself off, I tucked my water back inside my jacket and fumbled for my zipper with trembling hands. Adrenaline was still traipsing merrily around my body with no regard for the effect it was having on my coordination.
“Let me help.” Cate stepped in and zipped me back up, slow and steady. She tugged my scarf up around my neck, fingers brushing the underside of my jaw. “Sure you’ll be fine to keep going?”
“Absolutely. It’s always a one-time thing. Until the next time.” I forced myself to grin, as nonchalantly as I could. No big deal. “Just has to remind me it wants to be the boss every now and then.” I pulled my helmet back on and gave myself a quick once-over. Satisfied everything was in order, I looked over at her. “Cate?”
She clipped back into her second ski. “Yes?”
“Thank you. So much.”
This smile was slow. Shy. Sweet. “You’re very welcome.”
Chapter Four
The cold steel of my locker was the perfect place to rest my forehead while I mulled over what an unprofessional idiot I was. I closed my eyes, standing as still as possible, hoping the mortification would magically leach from my system. It didn’t. Rachel’s voice appeared a moment before her hand on my shoulder. “Everything okay, A?”
“Fantastic,” I mumbled.
“Oh dear. Spill. What’s going on?”
I turned around and leaned back against the lockers. “Just made a fool of myself in front of a client.”
“Ah, bummer. Did you stack it?”
“Did I what?”
“Stack.” She made a crashing sound and flipped her hand over. “Fall over.”
“Oh.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to push away the headache that had taken up residence behind my eyes. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Don’t worry, babe. I’m pretty sure most people know you’ve fallen over before.”
My eyes drifted closed. “Yeah, you’re right.” Not most, but certainly millions.
“Hmmm.” Her hand closed around my bicep, fingers stroking through my thermals. “Did you want to grab a drink and come back to my place? I can help you forget your troubles for an hour or two…”
Funny, her touch didn’t stir me the way it usually did. I opened my eyes and forced a smile. “Actually, I think I’m just gonna head home and catch an early night.”
Rachel was unfazed. “Fair call. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I waited for a few minutes after she left, contemplating what had happened on the mountain. My head was a strange mix of emotions, all swirling and fighting with one another—mostly embarrassed and ashamed but also so damned angry with myself. I couldn’t just have one thing, one good thing anymore. Even after all the time I’d spent recalibrating myself so I could ski every day for pleasure, I was still flawed.
Sprinkled on top of all that negativity was the odd and heady recollection of Cate’s reaction. Not annoyed or mocking, but concerned and caring. I had to make it up to her tomorrow when I took her up again. She deserved better than a basket-case instructor. I had some anti-anxiety meds somewhere in a suitcase. I’d drug my brain into submission early tomorrow and stop the panic in its tracks.
Maybe another run would help. Finish on a good note and all that. A glance at the wall clock told me I’d have enough time for a quick blue if I hurried. I gathered my helmet and headphones, yanked my gloves back on and clumped back out to get my skis.
The attendant looked surprised when I slid into the line for the Gunbarrel Express lift. “Blowing off some steam after a day of slowpokes, Archer?”
“You know it,” I said breezily. “I’ll be back in twenty.”
He laughed good-naturedly. “Twenty? You’re slipping.”
I laughed, the sound ringing hollowly in my ears. “I’m getting old.” Mercifully the chair came around the bend and I was on my way before I had to think of another lie. Bumping up the hill, I stared mournfully out over the snow. Maybe old-Aspen would deem that time pitiful but current-Aspen was happy to get to the bottom without falling apart.
I stuffed my headphones in and turned the volume up. Music helped as a distraction but I couldn’t have music while teaching or when I just want to test myself on a more challenging run others used for r
acing. Before I could torture myself with another thought, I jumped off the lift and pushed myself down the hill.
I shot straight down the mountain for one hundred and fifty feet and cut back sharply. The run felt good, even though it was an easy trail and barely half of my top speed. Certainly nowhere near shredding it but I was steady and confident, and as close to happy as I got when I skied now. If only every time could be like this.
Once I lost my nerve and quit my pro career, it was only natural that all my sponsors dropped me. I wasn’t bitter about it because I couldn’t fulfill my contracts. Thanks to my dad’s insistence on saving and investment, I had plenty of money. It would never be an issue unless I developed extravagant tastes, but I’d never been one for a lavish lifestyle. Not like my ex, Nadia, who left as soon as she saw the gravy train had derailed.
I still wondered if any of it had been real, or if she’d just been biding her time until someone better came along. Last I saw, she was getting around with a well-known actress. Trading up, it seemed. I was so young and naïve I thought I could fix all our niggling relationship issues with my success. But the harder I tried, the more she seemed to pull away. Once fear overtook me, it was all over and I didn’t care to try anymore. For anything. Not my career or my relationship.
My coaches and agent shipped me to more therapists and sports shrinks than I could count but nothing helped because I was just…done. I’d had enough of competitive ski racing and of trying to be someone I wasn’t. Therapy and hard work got me to a point where I could ski how I needed to now. That was all I’d ever have. And perhaps all I really wanted now. The moment I thought about the speed and aggression needed to compete, something in my brain short-circuited.
I hunkered down and let myself go right before the end of the run, then turned hard to spray an arc of snow. I felt eyes on me at my unnecessary and extravagant finish but ignored them. Somewhere, deep inside, I knew the old me was in there. I knew because I’d spent the past seven years trying to find her.
* * *
My sister Hayley called while I was half-heartedly making a solo late dinner. Standing at the stove with my foot resting against my knee, I turned my phone to speaker and set it on the counter. “Can I talk to the kids?”
“It’s midnight, so no.” My sister was an insomniac, which suited me living some of the year on the opposite side of the world.
“I know, but I bet they’d wake up for me.” I grinned, though of course she couldn’t see me. “Can’t help it if I’m the favorite aunt.”
“Aspen, you’re the only aunt.” Hayley paused and I heard ceramic clinking. “What are you doing?”
“Making myself dinner then I have a hot date with the Xbox.”
“You minx. Can I take that to mean you still haven’t found yourself a wife?” She poured something, probably hot water for sleepytime tea. Or wine. Either would have the same effect.
“Not since we spoke last week.”
“Love, it’s been seven years. You know—”
“Hayley, stop. Or I’ll send Anna and David the loudest, most annoying things I can find for their birthdays.” I turned off the burner.
She muttered something I didn’t quite catch, but was most likely an expletive. “Have you decided what you’re doing for the northern season?”
“Probably Canada. Maybe Japan. Oh, I have to do scholarship interviews too.” I remembered all too well what a struggle it was to afford gear and a coach, and since 2012 I’d offered one scholarship a year to a promising young skier who had financial issues. It covered one full year of a coach’s salary and an upgrade to competition-level gear. I’d spend some time with the kids on my shortlist, getting a feel for who they were and their circumstance before I made my decision.
“Have you got candidates already? Are you coming to visit us before you go back overseas?”
“Yeah, five. Course I’ll come down for a week or two and see you guys. I miss you.” Calls and Skype weren’t enough. I hadn’t seen my sister and her family in almost four months.
“We miss you too.” Hayley paused and swallowed a healthy gulp. “So, what’s new? How’s work?”
I busied myself transferring pasta from pot to plate. “Good. Busy. The season’s been great.” Water splashed up onto my shirt when I started filling the pot to soak. I raised my voice above the water running. “I had a moment on a run with a client today.” I wouldn’t have to explain myself. My sister knew exactly what a moment was.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just embarrassed.”
“It’s been almost a month since the last one.” Hayley’s statement held no accusation, only concern. My sister kept track of my anxiety like a woman charting a menstrual cycle.
“I know.” I turned the water off with uncharacteristic aggression.
“Did anything happen today to upset you?” She phrased it carefully. An amateur psychologist, Hayley knew something always preceded this anxiety. Generally something unrelated to the actual act of hurtling down a mountain. Something innocuous like an argument over scheduling with a coworker, someone being rude to me at the grocery store or…a beautiful woman throwing me completely off balance.
I answered with slight evasiveness. “Not upset, no.”
“How’s your pain?”
“Fine,” I said immediately and untruthfully. Hayley would know I wasn’t being honest, but years ago, she’d given up pushing me to do something about it. I thought the only reason she still asked was in the hope it’d make me think about my condition and actually try to fix it. The only fix was something I wasn’t willing to do. Not again.
“Maybe you should take a real break, my love, and stay with us for a few months. Get away from all that cold weather freezing your brain. Tan something other than that handsome face of yours.”
Handsome just about covered it, I guess. Our sibling resemblance was obvious, though genetics had given her my mother’s delicate features while I got my father’s square jaw and straight nose. In a sport where being tall and model-beautiful was the norm, I stood out—being even taller, and just regular looking with a lopsided goofy smile to boot. I rummaged in the drawer for cutlery. “I don’t know…”
“Come on, you shit. Ryan bought a speedboat! You can stand at the helm, look amazing and watch women throwing themselves at you.” This was our game. Her flattering and trying to tease me away from my funk. Me resisting good-naturedly but usually giving in.
Our relationship was a strange one. Sometimes we were sisters—loving, joking or squabbling. Other times Hayley was compelled to mother me the way she did when the two of us were growing up without a mom. I felt a sudden surge of childish stubbornness. Still mortified and unbalanced by my breakdown in front of Cate, I pushed back. “I’ve got to work, Hayls. You know that. And there’s sun beds or a bottle if I want to even out my tan.”
Hayley knew exactly what I was doing and chose to leave it. My sister was an expert at picking her way over me trying to bait her into an argument, and finding the higher ground. She chose to defuse me with family news. “Ryan’s grant got approved. He starts his new research project next month.”
Her redirect worked. “Awesome,” I said with genuine pleasure. “Tell him congrats from me.”
“I will.” A tinny wail filled my ear and my sister groaned. “Shit. I have to go, David just woke up. For the third time tonight. Love you.”
“Love you too.” The call ended and left me alone in my kitchen with my dinner. I settled on the couch with heat packs on my leg and against my hip, forking up mouthfuls between bouts of blasting enemies on the Xbox. Hello, thirty-two-year-old child. By the time I’d finished, my pasta was well and truly cold but I’d leveled up. Priorities.
My ex had hated me gaming. And watching nerdy movies. And mountain biking. And collecting figurines. And…pretty much everything that wasn’t what she deemed a good way to spend time. I could dress up and socialize with the best of them but I wasn’t made for spending my entire life making sm
all talk with wine in one hand and canapés in the other. Some days a person just needed to slump on the couch in their sweatpants, with a beer and the remote.
A flash of light on the television startled me but before I could react, I was dead in the rubble on the fifty-inch flat screen. Way to waste half an hour of progress, Aspen. I paused my game and dropped the controller on the couch. Why was I thinking about my ex now? Damn my sister for bringing it up. Scrunching my eyes closed, I forced Nadia’s sneering face and derogatory words about my hobbies from my mind.
In their place came thoughts of Cate. Equally unsought, but far more pleasant. Though, Cate was so sophisticated and seemed so cultured, she’d probably have the same opinions about the way I spent my time. The whole thing was one great moot point anyway. Cate was not only a client, but someone who’d seen me very unprofessionally lose my shit. I shoved her into a mental corner, firmly relegated to think but don’t touch territory, and picked up the game controller again.
Chapter Five
The next morning, I taught two pupils first up—Gemma and someone she introduced as her friend, Tim, another American kid a little older than her. For the entire lesson, they joked and teased and fake-argued like siblings, and had me laughing with their banter and movie impersonations. Once we were done, after fist bumps and the three of us acting out a scene from The Force Awakens, where of course I had to be Chewbacca, Gemma and Tim skied off, shoving each other playfully. Smiling, I watched them go. Great kids.
I’d expected to see Cate, either collecting Gemma after her lesson or skiing during the day, but by the time my work shift dragged to an end, I hadn’t spotted her at all. Not that I was really looking. Much. As I made my way back inside, I thought maybe she wouldn’t turn up for our planned session. The idea was strangely unsettling.