Wilson Mooney, Almost Eighteen

by Gretchen de La O

  “You were warm enough, right?” He looked at Cindy then looked back at me in the mirror.

  “Sure,” I mumbled and looked out the window.

  What was he doing? Why was he pulling this now? I looked back at him in the mirror.

  “I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with the blanket you’re sleeping with. Sometimes you might have to change blankets to get cozy and comfortable.”

  Did he really want to do this with Cindy in the car? I’m not a vindictive person, but I will pull out the big guns and go down swinging if he wants to brawl.

  “I was very happy to have the blanket I had wrapped around me last night.”

  “Just checking to see if you might want to try a different one; maybe one that hasn’t been around so long. You could try it tonight.” A crooked smile covered his face.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll stick with the one I have. It was exactly what I needed.” Glancing at Cindy, she was still taken in by the world of commercial rock that screamed from her iPhone.

  “Alright, your loss.” He looked at me in the mirror for the last time.

  “I can only imagine.” As I looked out the window, my eyes stung from the shining stars glistening off the white frosted mountains. I pushed the window down. I was getting uncomfortably warm in the baby blue sauna suit from Cindy. But there was no way I was going to take it off. Max liked it and that was enough to keep me in it. The crisp, chilly air burned dry and refreshing down my throat. The freezing breeze swirled around my hair and down the front of my suit. Goosebumps rippled on my skin, down my arms and up through the back of my neck.

  “Jesus Christ, Wilson, roll up your window! I really don’t want to have to fix my hair again,” Cindy barked, pulling out her earphones.

  “Sorry, just needed some air.” I didn’t feel like caving to her demand, but I was feeling a bit chilly.

  “There’ll be plenty of air later. We’re almost there and you can breathe all the air you want. Nick, remember to pull up to the front so I don’t have to carry the skis that far.” Her finger pointed toward the two chartered buses waiting in the loading zone.

  Nick pulled up behind them, blocking the entry for anyone else. He jumped out of the SUV, pulled open the back, and started to unload our ski stuff, piling it on the gothic marble bench welcoming us. He put our skis in a rack and walked around to my side of the SUV. His breath, heavy with smoke, warned me I was going to freeze. He yanked my door open. The rush of the Colorado air was shocking at first. My nose stung, and my lips glossed a frost-tingling chill. I guess it was dumb of me to lick my lips before I got out of the car. At least the rest of my body was warm.

  Nick held out his hand to help me out onto the snow-covered ground.

  “Thanks,” I said grabbing him to make sure I didn’t fall. The asphalt was more slippery than it appeared.

  “You’re welcome, anytime.” As he helped me out, his other hand clutched at my elbow.

  “Hello—I need some help over here.” Cindy held her iPhone and earbuds in the air so he could see her hands were full. Nick completely ignored her, didn’t even look her way.

  “I think I can get it from here.” The last thing I needed was to be stuck at this overpriced snow park with a pissed off rich girl holding a grudge.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Totally sure, I’m fine. Cindy looks likes she needs you.” I nodded toward her still sitting in the Sequoia, waiting for Nick to open the door.

  “Okay, and what I said earlier about your blanket—well, if you’re happy with it, then I’ll leave it alone.”

  “I appreciate it. I’m very happy with my blanket.”

  “Nick! I’m waiting,” Cindy demanded, staring at him.

  “That’s my cue.” He shuffled his way to her door and opened it.

  “Did you call ahead requesting the instructor for Wilson?”

  “No, I thought you would have called. I mean, she is your friend and all,” he snapped at her.

  “No. When I talked to you on Thursday I told you to call Shane and book a lesson for Wilson with him. He’s the best, and I wanted him to teach her.” She flipped her hair away from her neck. She was splotchy red and steaming mad. “Now it’s too late and she’ll get stuck with one of those “I’m just here for a month” flunky people who can’t ski their way down a bunny slope let alone a beginner run.” She slammed the car door.

  “I’m sorry.” He looked like the same brow-beaten Nick I’d met at the airport.

  “Sorry doesn’t make up for your lack of common sense. You need to schedule a lesson for her. We’ll be waiting inside. Come on, Wilson.” She grabbed the designer bag and trudged to the big rock and brick building I assumed was the lodge. I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a glance as I slipped past him.

  She grumbled the entire way to the lodge. How incompetent he was, how if she wants anything done she’s gotta do it herself.

  “I’m sorry. I really wanted this to be a good experience for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. I think I’ll be okay learning from whoever teaches me.”

  The door swung open, inviting me to a whole new world of designer people, foreign opulence, and limitless possibilities. Everything looked like it was from a movie. Beautiful people with hair styles and diamond rings were encapsulated in narcissistic conversations about their travels and money. Enormous rock fireplaces raged with bonfire-sized flames. Notebook computers and iPads littered the tables. Songs in different languages blasted from cell phones people couldn’t wait to answer. I was way out of my league. I was a seventies space girl in a borrowed powder blue zip-up suit.

  Cindy grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bar. She perched on a tall stool and waved to the bartender at the other end. He came over immediately, and leaned over to her. Before I had myself planted on the stool, she was already whispering something into his ear. She leaned back and looked him in the eyes. She was totally flirting with him. He shook his head and turned to grab two clear mugs.

  “You’re thirsty right?” Cindy eyed me up and down. I didn’t get a chance to answer her before the drinks appeared before us. “I ordered you an Irish Coffee—something to warm you up.”

  “Thanks.” I guess I should’ve been grateful.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I didn’t like coffee. Never have. I tried my grandfather’s once when I was about seven. He was the type of person who believed if you wanted to drink coffee, you had to drink it black. I was the type who hated bitter, dark drinks that made your mouth feel like it had just swallowed hot dirt. I hoped the Irish made it better. I watched Cindy grab hers up and take a sip.

  “Mmm, so good. Thanks, Jeremy.” She held the mug between her hands. He waved at her as he helped the next person leaning over the bar to talk to him.

  “Try it, Wilson. It will warm you up and get you ready to ski.” She pushed her mug toward me.

  “Cheers.” I didn’t want to drink it, but I didn’t want to be rude either. I took a small sip and was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t taste half bad. It was sweet enough to take away the aftertaste of the coffee and warm enough to heat my core.

  “Pretty good, huh?” Cindy sipped hers again.

  “Yeah, it’s good.” It wasn’t long before my mug was half empty and I was feeling relaxed.

  The little idiosyncrasies of Cindy that would normally piss me off disappeared with every sip I took of the Irish coffee. I don’t know what was in it, but I had to be grateful to Jeremy, the bartender, for making it.

  “Okay, good news, I got a private lesson for you. But the deal is it starts in fifteen minutes.” Nick hustled over out of breath.

  “That’s great. Thank you.”

  “Is it with Shane?” Cindy insisted.

  “No, but I’ve been assured he’s a really good instructor,” Nick countered.

  “I don’t mind who teaches me. Was there alcohol in that drink?” I interrupted.

  “What in the hell did you
order her, Cindy?”

  “Just an Irish Coffee; no biggie!” She told him.

  Nick grabbed the mug from my hands. “Geez, do you have a death wish for her? She’s never skied before,” he barked at her before sliding the mug toward the back of the counter.

  “No, she’s fine. Don’t be such a dweeb. She’ll be just fine.” She slid off the stool and picked up the bag. “Let’s get going before Nick melts the snow with all his hot air.”

  “You need to meet your instructor out the back door and to the left. You’ll see a sign that says private instruction. You can’t miss it. I’ll be back around four.” He left without waiting for any response from us.

  I followed Cindy to a waiting area. Soft leather benches lined the walls. She pulled the bag off her shoulder and sat down. She fished out gloves, hats, sunglasses, and boots and tossed them toward me. It didn’t take long to get ready to go. The boots were the most uncomfortable things I’ve ever put on my feet before. How in the hell do you walk in boots that don’t bend where your feet normally do? Heel to toe, clomp, clomp, clomp. Wow what a sexy walk. Now I really looked like I belonged on the moon.

  We went out the back door and down the metal steps. Sure enough, to the left side was a carved wooden sign telling me that was where I belonged. My cheeks were already freezing and my cold nose hurt. Cindy grabbed her skis from the rack next to the deck.

  “I’m going to get a couple runs in. I’ll meet you back here in an hour, okay?” She looked at me, assuming I understood what a couple of runs meant. I nodded my head and started over to the area where I was going to let some person strap boards to my feet and instruct me on how to go down the side of a mountain without getting hurt.

  “You need to grab your skis, those ones there.” She pointed to the rack. I grabbed the blue and white Rossignol skis I assumed were mine and clunked my way to the lesson area.

  By the time I’d walked twenty feet, my thighs were burning and I could feel the onset of Charley horses in my calves. I had to stop walking every couple of feet to adjust and shuffle the skis from one hand to the other. It wasn’t like they were super heavy, just awkward to hold, and carrying them while trying to walk in the ski boots was a chore. I could only assume the more practice I had dealing with skis and boots, the better I would get at handling them. Except I had another ten feet to go when the skis fell into the snow; they somehow hooked against each other in a weird cross pattern and I couldn’t get them to go back together. I was completely confused how to fix them. I looked like a total rookie.

  “Here, let me help you, Wilson,” a guy’s voice floated through the air. I’d heard it before but it wasn’t familiar. As I turned and looked up to see who was coming to help me, my heart dropped in my gut. It was Wayne Samuel, John’s son, the man from the airplane ride.

  “Oh my God! Wow, hi, Wayne. Thanks. It’s my first time skiing.”

  “Well don’t worry. I won’t have you do anything crazy.” He smiled, picking up my crossed skis and fixing them. “I’m your instructor today.” He handed me back the skis perfectly organized. His eyes smiled, matching his lips.

  “Really?” I nodded my head and swallowed hard. He was really good looking—crystal clear blue eyes that you could dive into and naughty blond hair with just enough curl to catch your fingers. I could tell I was going to have a major problem focusing today. Between him and Max, I didn’t know how I was ever going to learn how to ski.

  chapter eleven:

  Forty-five minutes was how long it took me to understand how to clear my boot of snow and click in and out of the skis, toe then heel. It was really hard to focus. I wanted to pay attention, but my thoughts would get all tangled up in where Max was. It was even harder when Wayne snapped out of his skis, wrapped his hands around my waist, and showed me how to bend at the knees and lean to turn.

  “When you feel me press on your side I want you to lean that way.” He pressed my left side. I leaned. He pressed on my waist to the right. Of course I leaned that way too.

  “That’s good. Now bend more at your knees.” I guess I didn’t do it the way I was supposed to because he grabbed my waist and stood right in front of me. His hands slid across my hips and down to the front of my thighs. He looked me in the eyes, his hands stayed on my legs.

  “Do you feel the muscles working right through here?” His hands rubbed the outsides of my thighs.

  “Yeah, they burn.” Wow, how cute is he? He’s grabbing my legs. Focus, Wilson.

  “That’s just how I want you when we get on the ski lift and go down the beginner run.”

  “Whoa, wait; ski lift? We’re not doing that today, are we? I mean, that’s like the next time I’m here.” Every feeling of insecurity twisted and knotted in my stomach.

  Who would have thought that barreling down the side of a mountain would happen forty-five minutes after I put the skis on my feet?

  “You’ll do just fine. I’m going to be right there with you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me?” his voice lowered and he pulled off his gloves.

  “I don’t know, this seems way too soon. I think—”

  “Wilson, trust me.” He grabbed my chin, just like Max did. My head swam, and electricity surged throughout my body. My heart wanted Max but my endorphins raged for the guy touching me.

  “I’ll trust you.” The words hardly made it out of my mouth. My legs trembled with waves of fear.

  “You’re shaking.” He grabbed my shoulders. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m cold,” I lied.

  I was so frickin’ scared.

  “Well, let’s get you moving then.” He dropped his skis next to me, clipped them on his boots, and grabbed his poles.

  We worked our way down to the ski lift. It was actually only about fifteen feet away from where we were. We had to wait in a line for beginning skiers. This was the time instructors were giving their pep talks. At least Wayne kept me thinking I could do it. Time passed so quickly, I didn’t realize we were up. I watched Wayne signal the operator in the booth. The guy’s voice echoed across the walkie-talkie he held to his mouth.

  “High nest, first-timer entering lift. Slowing the lift. Repeat, beginner approaching the chair; turtle speed.”

  He might as well have frickin’ announced it across the loudspeakers in the lodge, too. I could feel the blood flooding to my cheeks. There must have been fifty people on the open-air death trap ahead of me and about the same number waiting behind in line. I shuffled out with Wayne holding one arm and the lift operator holding my other. My skis crossed and the chair caught me right at mid-thigh. Wayne pulled me close to him and held his arm around me. Adrenaline thrashed and filled every cell of my body. I didn’t want to fall seventy feet to my death, so I held really still and barely breathed. He was so relaxed.

  “You can open your eyes now.” Wayne leaned toward me, making the chair sway.

  “What are you doing? Don’t make it move—oh my God.” I tried to breathe shallow. My muscles burned.

  “It’s okay; you’re not going to fall. I will make sure of it.” He locked his poles across my lap. “You’re safe, see? How long are you in Aspen for?” he asked low.

  “Just until Sunday, then we head back home,” I answered quietly. I didn’t want to make the chair move.

  “Where’s home?”

  “Northern California, the Bay Area. You?” I looked up at him, still shaking inside. We were really high up now.

  He smiled. “Wherever there’s snow.”

  “Well that’s totally vague and mysterious. So I can assume you lived in Russia?”

  “In 2006; for eight months.”

  “How long are you living here?”

  “I’m here until February.” He adjusted his legs, his skis bounced in the air so chunks of snow fell to their deaths.

  “Then where are you going?” I tried not to look down.

  “I haven’t decided yet.” He looked out.

  “Have you ever lived in Northern California? Tahoe area?
I hear some of the best skiing is up there—that’s just what I’ve heard.” I followed his eyes to where he was looking.

  “Never lived there. Always thought about it, just haven’t made it yet. Now listen, when we come up to the top, you’ll want to hold your ski tips up so they catch the hill. As the chair swings around, you will need to slide off.” He held his skis up, causing the chair to move again. I truly didn’t know I was that afraid of heights before I was on this ski lift.

  “Are they going to slow it down? Because right now I feel like we are flying super fast,” My hands hurt from clenching the metal arm of the chair.

  “Yeah, they will. And I’ll follow right behind you.” He pulled his poles off my lap and pulled his sunglasses across his eyes. He nodded to the guy in the booth running the top end. So, of course, the chair lift slowed to a crawl and I heard the guy tell the lower operator about the same slow turtle; newbie skier coming off now. I inched my back away from the chair and sat on the edge. I felt the chair drop lower and I was pizza-plowing down the embankment. I felt Wayne behind me; his skis slid up between my feet and his hands caught my waist as I slid forward toward the beginner trail.

  “Not too bad, Wilson. Now, I’ll go down first. I want you to follow my motions. Remember: make sure you plow, keeping the tips of your skis together in a V shape. Stay parallel with the mountain.” He pointed to my sunglasses on the top of my head. I pulled them down and tried to get my heart to stop thumping so hard.

  I can do this. I chanted to myself over and over in my head until I had a tiny spark of confidence in my body. Wait a minute. This hill didn’t look that steep from the chair. Stop being a baby, Wilson, you can do this. I watched him ski down the hill far enough away to give me the space to either succeed at getting down to him or completely kill myself trying.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a beautiful woman skiing across the slope behind me to someone waiting for her. I heard her tell him to wait. Not usually a big deal in the scheme of people skiing up and down hills; however, it was the words she yelled that caused me to look. I almost fell over.