Meant to Be

by Melody Carlson

  “Good job,” she called out. “Just get back on and keep riding.”

  I rode with Maggie for the rest of the day, and Dad actually seemed relieved to spend the afternoon with Mom.

  “You going to be here tomorrow?” she asked as we took our last ride before the lifts closed at four.

  “Yeah, we don't leave until Sunday morning.”

  “Want to hang together tomorrow too?”

  “Sure,” I told her. And so we agreed to meet for breakfast at the lodge restaurant in the morning and get an early start.

  “That's great,” my dad said when I told him about our plans. “Maybe I can take your mom for a sleigh ride.”

  “She'd love that,” I said. And I could tell he was relieved that I'd found a snowboarding buddy. Not that he wasn't enjoying the skling; I really think he was. But I also think he felt bad about leaving Mom on her own so much of the time. Although, she seems fine and hasn't complained at all.

  Still, I know that we're both feeling a little torn about her right now. On one hand, we all act like everything is just peachy, perfectly normal. But at the same time, it's like we're walking on eggshells too. like we're all thinking the same thing—is this going to be the last time we'll be up here as a family? Is this our last Christmas all together? And even though we're all having a pretty good time, it's like there's this dark shadow hanging over us.

  Five

  Saturday, December 31

  On our last day at the ski lodge I try to make the most of it, hitting the lifts as soon as they open. I don't see Maggie anywhere, but after a couple of solo runs, I spot my dad's red and black ski parka, and we take a few “kinder, gentler” runs (as he calls them) until it's nearly noon.

  “Do you mind if I take your mother into town for a special New Year s Eve dinner this evening?” he asks me as we head to the snack bar for a lunch break. “Or you could come with us if you like, but you'll have to give up a couple hours of snowboarding.”

  “No way. I'd rather get in a full day. Especially since we're going home tomorrow morning.” But I don't tell him, I suspect that he and Mom might enjoy a more romantic dinner with just the two of them.

  He picks up a bowl of chili topped with cheese. “Mom wants to have a little nap first. But we'll probably leave around two or three. Give her some time to look around town before the shops close.”

  “She'll love that.”

  “You sure you don't mind?”

  “Not at all, Dad. I'll probably just get a quick dinner then crash.”

  “You don't plan to see in the New Year?” he teases.

  I roll my eyes at him.

  “I think I'll go have a little rest myself,” he tells me as we finish up our lunches. “You already wore me out.” He smiles now. “You're getting pretty good on that snowboard, Kim. You really like it?”

  “I totally love it, Dad!” I'm tempted to tell him that I want to get a snowboard of my own now, but I realize how much money he's already spent on this trip, and I keep my mouth shut.

  “Well, don't tear up the slope too much this afternoon. And remember, you can call me on my cell if you need anything tonight.”

  “Right. Like I want to interrupt your dinner. Don't worry, Dad. I'll be just fine. You guys have a great time and stay out as late as you like.” I wink at him. “And happy New Year.”

  He laughs. “I'm sure that we'll probably both wear out long before midnight. And it's almost an hour drive back here, so I don't think we'll stay in town too late.”

  I finish off my soda then stand up. “Guess I'm off then.” He stands, kisses me on the cheek, then reminds me as usual to “be careful” up there.

  “Yeah, yeah. And tell Mom Happy New Year for me.” I start gathering up all my stuff to head back outside. “And have fun too!”

  He nods. “I'm sure we will.”

  “Hey, Kim,” calls Maggie as I head for the main door to the lifts. “I was just looking for you. Ya ready to rock and roll?”

  “Sure. Where ya been?”

  “My parents insisted on all of us going out to breakfast together. Problem was my little brother didn't get up until around ten. I can't believe I missed the whole morning.”

  As we're going up in the blue chair, she tells me about a New Year's Eve party that she's been invited to. “Want to come?”

  By now I know Maggie well enough to know that she's not a Christian, but I still really like her and enjoy her company, not to mention the free snowboarding lessons. And I've actually been trying to share my faith with her. Okay, I'm not very good at this yet. I mean, sometimes I barely know what I believe myself. But I feel this need to talk to her about my faith, and I'm hoping it's a God-thing. Anyway, I know she's been turned off by Christians in the past so I'm really trying not to be too pushy. Although I finally did tell her that I was a Christian yesterday.

  “No way,” she said. “You don't seem like that at all.”

  “What do you mean? like what?”

  “I mean you're not all pushy and arrogant and full of yourself.”

  I kind of laughed. “Is that what you think of Christians?”

  “Well, there are these Christian girls at my school,” she explained. “And all they want to do is to get everyone saved. like they don't really care about you personally or what might be going on in your life, they just want you to come to their church and get saved like it's some kind of contest where they get a gold star or a notch on their belt or something. And I just don't get that.”

  So I told her a little about my own spiritual journey, how I studied Buddhism and some other Eastern religions. “I'd gone to church as a kid, but I just didn't buy into it. I wanted to try some other things and see if I could find something that really worked for me.”

  “That's cool,” she said, actually impressed.

  “Yeah, it was pretty interesting studying the various religions,” I admitted. “And Buddhism seemed to make a lot of sense at first. But it didn't really have what I needed. And ultimately, it just made me feel worse about myself. like I would never be able to really succeed at it, and I knew I'd never make a very good Buddhist.”

  “That's why I try to avoid religion altogether. It's like a lose-lose situation if you ask me.” Then the lift reached the top and we took off down the hill. And it seemed the moment was gone. At least for yesterday.

  But today I've been really praying that G? be able to say something that will make a difference to her. But I so don't want to be like those girls at her school. I mean, ITI probably never see her again anyway, and it's not like I'm looking for a gold star. I just really care about her, and I've heard enough about her life and her family to know that she's not happy. In some ways she reminds me a lot of how I was before I committed my life to God. Kind of searching but in denial.

  So I decide that's what I'll tell her (that she reminds me of me), but it seems that the conversation just never really gets to that place. Finally we're taking our last lift up, and I'm feeling kind of desperate to say something, but she's talking about snowboarding and telling me what kind of board I should get and which websites to look for it on, and suddenly it's time to get off and ride down the hill.

  Naturally, I'm really into the ride and having a great time, and as a result I don't even see this kid on skis who's cutting through the trees, totally out of control and heading straight at me.

  “Look out!” Maggie yells. But it's too late. He slams right into me and literally knocks the wind out of me. My board flips up, and I land on my back, knocking my head into the hard-packed snow with a brain-jarring whack, which makes me feel like I can see stars. The next thing I know, Maggie is standing over me, asking me if I'm okay and yelling at the kid who's making a getaway.

  “Yeah,” I gasp, still trying to catch my breath as I sit up and rub my head. “I think so.”

  “Just breathe slowly,” she tells me, flopping down to sit beside me. “Try to relax and then see if anything hurts.”

  I sit there for a while and try
to take a kind of inventory. My arms and legs seem fine, and I can breathe, so I think I'm pretty much okay. Just shaken.

  “That really scared me,” I finally admit as I continue to rub my head, which is throbbing now. I wonder if it's possible I've suffered brain damage, which actually seems pretty ridiculous, although I've noticed how a lot of skiers and boarders are wearing helmets these days. My dad even questioned me about it a couple of times.

  “Me too,” she says. “I thought you were a total goner. Stupid skiers! We should report that moron to the ski patrol.”

  “I think he was as shocked as I was when he hit me.”

  “Well, he didn't even apologize. Just took off like he knew he was going to be in big trouble.”

  I look at the sky, which is now a dusky blue. “Guess we better get down before it gets dark, huh?”

  “You sure you're okay, Kim? I could go for the ski patrol, and they could carry you down.”

  “No thanks,” I tell her as I check the straps on my board. “I saw those guys practicing this week, and it looks like it'd be scarier riding down in one of those stretcher sleds than going down on my own.”

  “Let's just take it easy, okay?” She stays close to me as I carefully start to navigate down the slope.

  My legs are a little shaky and my head still hurts, but I'm thankful nothing is broken or sprained. I would hate having to call my dad while he and Mom are out on their New Year's date.

  Finally we're back at the lodge. “Everything still okay?” she asks me again.

  I nod. “Yeah. Just my head aches a little.” Then I smile at her. “Hey, thanks for helping me, Maggie. I don't know what I would've done on my own.”

  “No problem. I've got some Advil in my pack if you want a couple for your head.”

  “Thanks, that's probably a good idea.” Then I tell her that my parents are gone for the evening and that I'm going to get a snack and call it a night.

  “No way,” she tells me. “You should hang with me for a while. Just to make sure you don't have a concussion or anything. Let's go get my pack and turn in your board, then maybe we can find something decent to eat.”

  As we're eating cheese pizza from the snack bar, I actually get a chance to tell her a little bit more about my faith. And to my surprise she seems to be listening. I explain about how I saw “The Passion of the Christ” movie and how it really got to me.

  “It's still kind of hard to understand,” I tell her. “But it's like God was really talking to me, not literally. I mean, I couldn't actually hear His voice, but I got this very real feeling, like I could sense something clicking deep inside of me, and somehow I knew it was real. Does that seem too weird?”

  She kind of frowns then slowly nods. “I actually believe you.” Then she looks at her watch. “But I better get back to our cabin or my mom will think I've broken my neck on the slope.”

  I stand up now, sorry that our conversation is ending. “It's been cool snowboarding with you, Maggie. I really appreciate—”

  “Hey, it's not over yet,” she says as she puts a strap of her pack over one shoulder. “You're coming to that party with me, aren't you?”

  “Oh, I don't—”

  “You said yourself that your parents are gone for the night. Come on, Kim. I don't want to go by myself. And the guys seem nice. Remember the group that rode down with us before that last ride?”

  “But I'm not into—”

  “Please, don't tell me you're going to turn into one of those goody-goody Christians who judge everyone and everything and are too holy to associate—”

  “Okay,” I say suddenly. “? come with you. Just to see what it's like. But I reserve the right to leave if I want to, okay?”

  “Okay.” She smiles now. “I'm going to clean up and have a rest. I'll call your room around seven, okay?”

  “That's cool.”

  Now as I walk to my room, I'm wondering if it was the blow to the head or just plain stupidity, but somehow I've agreed to go to what I'm pretty sure will be a drinking party. Still, I can leave if I want. The party's going to be in a condo unit right here in the lodge, and I can simply walk back to our cabin if I need to. And who knows, I might even get a chance to really talk to Maggie again.

  So, like Maggie, I clean up a little and take a nap, but I'm startled awake by the ringing of the phone.

  “You ready?”

  I groggily look at the clock to see it's already past seven. “Yeah, I guess so.” Then I go into the bathroom and check myself out in the mirror. Okay, I do wonder why I should care about my appearance since I don't really know these kids. But even so, I take time to put on some lip gloss and mascara, and I even fuss with my hair before I hear Maggie knocking at the door.

  . As it turns out, I was right. It is a drinking party that Maggie's been invited to. But it seems that the kids are mostly college aged, and everyone is acting pretty normal and a lot more mature than the way I've seen high school kids acting at parties like this at home (not that I've been to many). So, I decide to just relax a little, although I go for soda instead of the beer that Maggie pops open.

  “You seem older than sixteen,” she tells me as we go and stand by the fireplace.

  “I'm almost seventeen,” I say. I know that Maggie's a senior, but I also know that she's not as much into school or academics as I am.

  Soon a couple of guys come over and start talking to us. Well, mostly to Maggie since I seem to be somewhat dumbstruck.

  “I'm going to tour Europe after I graduate,” she's telling them. And they tell her about a trip they took last year.

  “It was awesome,” the tall guy says. “We hit all the major ski resorts.”

  “Zermatt, Innsbruck, Chamonix…” the other guy (I think his name is Tyler) starts rattling off words that sound like a foreign language to me. What in the world am I doing here?

  “How long have you been snowboarding?” the tall guy asks, and I realize he's talking to me.

  “I just started this week,” I manage to say.

  “But she's doing pretty good,” Maggie adds.

  “I used to ski,” I admit.

  “Hopefully you've given that up for good,” says Tyler.

  I sort of laugh and wonder how I can make a graceful exit without offending Maggie.

  “Can we get you girls another drink?” asks the tall guy.

  “Sure,” says Maggie. “I'll have another Corona.”

  “How about you?”

  “I'm fine,” I say quickly.

  “That's not very festive,” says Tyler. “Haven't you heard that it's New Year's Eve and people are supposed to be celebrating?”

  I just shrug. “I'm not much of a drinker.”

  “How about something to warm you up then?” he offers, surely noticing how I'm hovering close to the fire. “Like peppermint cocoa?”

  “Sure,” I say, relieved that he's not pushing alcohol. “That sounds great.”

  “See this isn't so bad,” Maggie says after they leave. “You just need to loosen up a little.”

  “Well, I'm probably going to leave soon. Hope you don't mind.”

  She frowns and shakes her head. “I guess that's the thing that really bugs me about Christians.”

  “What?”

  “That you're afraid to have fun.”

  “I'm not afraid to have fun. I just don't happen to think that drinking alcohol equals fun.”

  “So you think it's wrong?”

  I consider this. I mean, my parents have an occasional glass of champagne like at weddings and such. I wouldn't be surprised if they were having a glass tonight. And seriously, I don't think that's wrong. But then I remember the advice I gave for the column this week. “Well, I think it's wrong when you're underage.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “So I'm old enough to vote or go into the military or get married, but I'm not old enough to drink a beer?”

  I shrug. “According to the law.”

  “What about in Europe?”

  “Wh
at about it?”

  “The law is different there.”

  I shrug again. “But we're not in Europe.”

  She grins. “We can pretend.”

  I have to laugh at that. And now the guys are back with her beer and my cocoa. But when I take the cocoa it smells a little funny. “What's in this?”

  “Peppermint,” says Tyler. “Like I told you.”

  “Is it alcohol?”

  “It's just for flavoring,” he says. “Try it.”

  For some reason, I take a sip, and to my surprise it tastes okay. I mean, I've tasted alcohol before, and I really don't like it. But this just tastes like cocoa and peppermint, and before I know it I've finished it off.

  “I should probably go,” I tell Maggie.

  “But this is New Year's Eve,” protests Tyler. “And it's early.”

  “Don't be a party pooper,” teases the tall guy.

  “How about another cocoa?” asks Tyler.

  So the next thing I know, I'm having another peppermint cocoa. And after that, things get a little blurry, but somehow I realize that it's the cocoa, and I start to feel a little freaked. “I've gotta go,” I tell Maggie.

  “What's wrong?” she asks.

  “I don't feel very good.”

  “Is it your head?” she asks with genuine concern. Then she tells the people who are standing around us about the wipeout I had today.

  “She really smacked her head,” she finally says.

  I nod, rubbing my head for what I hope is a good effect. “I think I need to go.”

  “You shouldn't walk back alone,” she says.

  “I could walk her back,” offers Tyler.

  Now this kind of scares me. I mean, I hardly know this guy. He's in college, and he's given me drinks laced with—who knows what? “No thanks,” I say quickly. “I'm fine on my own.”

  “No way,” says Maggie. “You might pass out and freeze to death in the snow.”

  Somehow I manage to find my coat and the door, but to my dismay, Tyler is still at my side. “I'm really okay on my own.”