The Winter Games

by Sharp, Dr. Rebecca

  I stayed behind the two of them, but Emmett made sure that I was coming, too. Ruth opened the door quietly and we walked inside. It took a few steps before I saw her; I could tell immediately that she was the woman from the photo only with whiter hair and frailer features. Her eyes were shut. I looked to Emmett, my heart breaking for their reunion. His face was like granite; but I could see the millions of tiny fractures running through it, ready to break to the feelings that he had for this woman.

  “Mom…” Ruth reached down and gently squeezed the older woman’s hand. “Mom, someone is here to see you.”

  The elderly woman’s eyes struggled to open but finally revealed a murky green gaze.

  “Mom, look who is here.” I watched her eyes drift to him.

  “Emmett…” The woman’s voice was a thread of a whisper, but those eyes said it all. “A-am I dead?”

  Ruth let out a watery laugh, quickly brushing her tears aside again. “Oh mom. How can you even joke about that right now?”

  Her gaze never left him. “Well, what else am I supposed to do about it?”

  I couldn’t stop the smile that spread over my face at the old woman’s retort. Losing her memory and her life, yet she still had the wherewithal… and the perspective to say things like that.

  “Come here,” she said weakly.

  Ruth moved so that Emmett could walk to the side of the bed, murmuring as he walked by, “It looks it’s a good day. Thank God.”

  “It’s been a long time, Emmett Jameson.”

  “Yes, it has,” he replied.

  “Too long.”

  “Agree to disagree.”

  A smile peeked onto her face. “Who did you bring?”

  His eyes swung to mine and I stepped forward to introduce myself, but Emmett cut in. “This is my… Ally.”

  I smiled and said, “It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Jameson. I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you.” I gently shook her hand on the bed, seeing as she was trying to raise it to me and failing.

  “Ahh… Well, if they were wonderful, then I know they must be all lies.” She tried to wink at me except it just looked like her right eye was having a mini-seizure.

  I released her hand and stepped back, almost bumping into Ruth, who spoke up, “Ally, why don’t you and I go grab a snack?”

  I was hungry but that wasn’t why she was asking. “Yeah, I could use a coffee, too.” I felt that Emmett wanted me to stay because he didn’t—but did—want to be here… but he needed me to leave and at some point, he would realize that.

  “It was such a pleasure to meet you, Miriam,” I said again, smiling, hearing Ruth already out the door.

  “Tell me something, dear.” I paused and moved closer when she motioned to me, bending down over the bed to wait for her question. “Was he hard to love?”

  “Miriam…” He growled behind me.

  I wished he had been, but for all of the anger and denial, Emmett Jameson had been too easy to love.

  Yeah. That fine line between love and hate? It’s not a line—it’s an edge—a cliff—a precipice. I’d fought, ranted, and raved—tried to fling myself off onto the side of hating him. But for months, my heart wasn’t having it. The reason? I wasn’t on that edge; I’d fallen off of it a long time ago… I’d fallen in love with Emmett.

  My pulse raced. This wasn’t how he should find out, but nothing seemed to happen for us the way that it should.

  So, I ignored him and answered the dying woman’s request. “No, ma’am. But not for lack of trying on his part.”

  “I know the feeling.” She smiled and I swore her eyes filled with tears. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ally.”

  I smiled back, etching the woman—the mother—who’d loved my man into my mind, knowing that this was probably the last time I’d see her like this.

  I didn’t look at him as I walked out of the door. I’d told a dying woman the truth that I’d barely admitted to myself. I didn’t know what this would mean for Emmett and me, but I knew what it meant to her, knowing that someone cared about him the way that she did—and if I gave her that peace, then the sacrifice was worth it.

  “Why did you do that?”

  This was why I’d fought her all those years. Always meddling. Always asking questions, getting into my business. Heaven-forbid she cares about me? No, I fucking forbid that she cares about me.

  “Why don’t you want her to love you?” she asked.

  Because I don’t deserve her.

  Those green eyes hadn’t changed a bit. Always knowing. Always penetrating.

  “I’m glad you came.” Her voice cracked and she held up her hand for her cup of water; we both knew her throat wasn’t dry.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” I muttered.

  “Oh please.” She took a sip. “You always have a choice.”

  It hurt to see her like this. So weak even though her mind was strong. It hurt more than I thought it was going to. I thought after all this time I wouldn’t care as much.

  “You’ve done well for yourself, Emmett.”

  “Yeah?” Why? Because I was able to afford her hospital bills?

  “Just because you refused to keep in touch with me or see me didn’t mean that I just forgot about you.” I guess I didn’t expect her to; I just expected her to hate me and not want to remember. “There’s this wonderful thing called Google. It took me a few days to get the hang of it, and some help from the neighbor’s boy who’s grown and gone.”

  “You Googled me?” I asked, astonished.

  Miriam had never been one for technology. Never had a cell phone. Never had cable. She preferred to be disconnected.

  She nodded with a sly smile, clearly proud of herself. “I mean, they always sent me reports from the school of how you were doing, but after that, I needed to know. A mother’s worries never cease…” My stomach clenched at her words. Mother. “You’ve done an incredible job with your snowboards. Not that I would ever think about getting on one of those deathtraps again,” at that we both laughed, “well, not that I could now anyway.”

  Silence drifted between us, pooling uncomfortably in every muscle. I ached to be out of there—to not be reminded. The truth was I didn’t know how to handle people who cared for me because they’d been so fucking few and far between.

  “What am I doing here?”

  She sighed. I could tell she was already getting tired even after only a few minutes of conversation. “Needed to see you before I go.”

  “Why? Haven’t I done enough? Haven’t I said enough?”

  “Can you go get that box over there?”

  I followed her eyes to the large shoe box over on the chair. Bringing it back over to the bed, I sat next to her and put it on her lap.

  With shaking hands, she lifted off the lid to reveal an organized mess of papers and photos and clippings inside.

  “I printed everything that I found,” she explained, lifting out photos of me—at school, snowboarding, at competitions. “And kept everything else I could find.” Newspaper articles—‘King of the Mountain and his mountain Ryders,’ the headline that had graced the local paper, the Aspen Times, right after Chance and Channing had won one of the local competitions riding my boards. Probably the article that had launched my entire business.

  One after another, I picked through the box of my past—snapshots of my success, the asshole that I was kept in the dark.

  “Why did you keep all of this shit?” Now my voice was hoarse.

  “Have some water.” It wasn’t a question. Maybe that’s where I had learned it from. “I kept this all because you are my son,” her lip quivered, “and when… I started to forget things, I wanted to make sure that I didn’t forget you. I needed to remember in case you ever came back.”

  “How can you say that after everything?” I asked hoarsely, self-loathing seeping from syllable.

  “Emmett. You were my son the second I took you out of foster care. Yes, you were also my nephew so I loved you from the moment y
our mother had you, but that day you became mine.”

  I was shocked. Her voice was so strong—so filled with emotion.

  “I don’t remember much about the day we went snowboarding, but I know I wasn’t the only one who fell. Did you give up after that day?” The papers rustled under her fingers. “All this says that you didn’t. You worked harder, you became better, all because you loved it—no matter how much it hurt you, no matter how many times it made you feel like a failure. Now, take all that times a thousand and you might understand what it feels like as a parent.”

  My throat felt like I was closing. Meeting her gaze and holding myself together was the hardest thing I’d ever have to do.

  “Every day I wished I could have changed what happened to you before you came home with me. Every day I wished I had done more for my sister. I know you don’t think that she loved you, but she did, Emmett. She was just sick. And sometimes, we hurt the ones that we love the most.”

  I didn’t know about my mother, but that was certainly the fucking truth.

  “But I couldn’t change it. All I could do was be strong, be there, and love you like you deserved—even if that meant being tough sometimes—because no one else had given you that.”

  “But you sent me to Aspen,” I said painfully.

  “That was the hardest thing I ever had to do.” She was crying now, but it had no effect on her voice. “I loved you so much, Emmett. But, after that night, I saw that you couldn’t see yourself as anything but an obstacle to me when all you had ever been was an opportunity—an opportunity for love, for healing. I tried for so long to help you, but I realized that night that I was the one who was standing in your way. That you lashed out only because of me; you sabotaged yourself only because of me. So, I took myself out of the equation.”

  I couldn’t speak; I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “When you love something—or someone—sometimes, you have to let them go. At least, that’s what I let you think. But, just because I let you out of my sight, doesn’t mean I let you out of my heart. I followed you. I spoke with your teachers weekly. I even starting calling Chance’s parents every other week or so to talk to them.”

  My mind was fucking blown. Deep down, I think I’d always known everything that she said, but I just didn’t want to believe it. I was afraid to believe it.

  “I don’t deserve it,” I admitted quietly. “After how I’ve treated you, Miriam.”

  “Emmett,” she said sternly, “love is not one of these competitions. Love isn’t won or lost; it’s not given based on what you do right or taken away by what you do wrong. Love is unconditional. Those things may have hurt me, but they never mattered to my love for you.”

  “Fuck,” I groaned and scored my head with my nails.

  “Language,” she huffed; some things would never change.

  I’d done so many things wrong in life—many of them to this woman. And all she wanted was to love me. It didn’t seem right, just apologizing and moving on, but what the hell did I know about how love worked?

  “I’m sorry, mom.” I hadn’t called her that for over half of my life. But she was right, it didn’t change that that was who she was. “I’m sorry for everything. But mostly, I’m fu–, I’m sorry that I don’t have enough time to make it up to you now.”

  A cold, boney hand grabbed mine. “I forgive you, Emmett. I forgave you a long time ago. It’s time for you to forgive yourself.”

  Jesus, don’t fucking cry. Me. Not her.

  “Honestly, I don’t know how to do that, but I’ll try.”

  “She knows, dear. She’ll help you.”

  Ally. The woman who loved me.

  The woman that I loved.

  Miriam sighed deeply, her words now finally taking their toll on her weakened body.

  “I should go and let you rest.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” she said even as her eyes shut. “I’ll have plenty of time to rest soon. Right now, I just want to hear you talk to me and tell me about your life. I want to finally hear your story.”

  My mind went blank. “Where should I start?”

  She hummed for a second. “With the most important thing, dear, in case I do drift off on you.”

  I found myself smiling as I looked down at her small hand in mine, my gigantic thumb rubbing over the muscles and veins that were easily distinguished through her translucent skin.

  Without thinking, I spoke. “Ally,” her name my saving grace, “she is my sunshine.”

  Ruth had left hours ago, needing to get back to her husband and kids who were staying at a friend’s. She was a nice woman who also cared about Emmett a lot. She told me some stories of the good times in their house, but she’d gone off to college before things started to really go downhill. I learned about her husband, two kids, and their life in California. Emmett had never met his nephews, even though they knew about their famous snowboard-inventor uncle. She invited us out to visit them—and she told me to relay the message to Emmett. It was smart; he was more likely to consider it coming from me.

  I’d messaged Jessa after Ruth and I had eaten, letting her know I was ok and that I was going to be in the city at least through tomorrow, if not the following day. She said that Tammy was home from the doctor but that she had to go back in in a week for some more tests. Apparently, she didn’t say anything more than that which worried me.

  I loved her mom-mode, but sometimes, it was to the extreme where she didn’t let anyone take care of her. We all need someone else to take care of us every once in a while.

  It was dark outside and I was curled up on one of the waiting area chairs, reading a book on my phone when Emmett walked in. He looked like he’d been through an emotional snowstorm, one of those things that kills you to go through, but when you come out on the other side, you realize how much stronger you are for it.

  I stood, but we didn’t speak. Not about Miriam. Not about what happened between them. And definitely not about what I’d confessed before I’d walked out on their reunion.

  As we walked out of the hospital, he grabbed my hand holding it tightly in his and that told me all I needed to know right now. Country music hummed barely audible on the radio as we drove to the hotel Emmett had books us a room at.

  The walls were brightly colored with fun, modern art. I walked around the lobby, sipping a cup of orange-infused water that they had freely offered while Emmett checked us in. The elevator then took us to the top floor, so I knew he must have chosen one of the nicest rooms in the place, even though we’d pulled up in a truck that was almost two-decades old.

  Purple walls. A large gilded mirror. And leopard-print bathrobes greeted us.

  “Why don’t you find the room service menu and we can just order some food up?” He paused. “If that’s ok with you.”

  My stomach growled and I quietly laughed. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

  He called down and ordered my pasta dish and his burger. “I’m going to shower.”

  I nodded. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watched him disappear into the bathroom.

  Opening my bag, I pulled out the shorts and tee that I’d grabbed. Who cared what the room service guy saw me in?

  My stomach clenched when Emmett walked out of the bath a few minutes later with just a towel wrapped around his waist. And that was how he answered the door to let the food in.

  “How was it?” I asked after he inhaled his burger.

  “Good.” His voice was hoarse from use.

  “How is she?” I questioned nervously.

  “Fading,” he answered softly.

  “She remembered you. Ruth was worried; her good days have been a lot fewer lately.”

  He nodded. “She was in and out there at the end, asking some of the same questions over again.”

  “How are you?” His jaw clenched as he pushed the table over and out the door into the hall for them to come and collect. I looked at my hands in my lap. He wasn’t going to answer. It was wrong of me t
o ask.

  “I have no fucking idea,” he rasped. My head flicked up just as he stood next to me. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

  “What are you…” I trailed off. He couldn’t leave. Where was he going to go? But, he just looked so fragile.

  His fingers found my chin. “I’m going to get in bed, sunshine, and wait for you to get there so that I can fucking hold you and hope that you can hold me together.”

  My heart hammered in my chest, so loud I couldn’t think of anything to say. So, I stood and did as he asked, showering quickly before sliding underneath the covers next to him.

  He wasn’t sleeping and he pulled me tight up against his chest. I barely breathed, waiting for whatever he needed to say or do. I’d put my clothes back on but he was naked. I felt his arousal harden as his arms cinched around me.

  “It’s been almost fifteen years and all she wanted was for me to forgive myself.” I kept my eyes focused on my hand that lay on the hard muscles of his chest. I knew we weren’t having sex, no matter how heavy he was resting against my stomach. Sometimes, there are things you need more than physical relief. “She’s been watching me all these years. Every fucking thing. In a stupid fucking shoe box.”

  “She loves you.”

  I felt his chin on my head as he nodded. “I wish I knew why I hated her for it for so long.” He laughed harshly. “No, I know why I hated her for it. No one else had loved me. I was afraid to believe her. Afraid she’d just use me, too.”

  “I-I don’t know all the details, Emmett. But from what I do know of your past,” I tried to keep my voice from shaking, “you’ve been through, dealt with, and overcome so many things. But everyone falls down sometimes. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone makes bad mistakes. You can’t punish yourself for them forever.”

  “She said you would know—that you would help me.” A hot tear slipped down my cheek and dripped onto his chest. “I just never expected her… couldn’t fathom… After all this time, she didn’t want me to come see her for herself; she wanted me to come for myself. So she could tell me that I was never a problem to be solved, that I wasn’t a tool to be used—that I was someone and someone worth loving.”