“How long have you known each other?” asked his grandfather.
“Twenty-two days,” said Sky.
“Twenty-three days,” said Antoinette, simultaneously. They smiled at each other, raised palms in a high five, though they were seated some eight feet apart. They had joked about this time discrepancy before, whether it was a Tuesday or a Wednesday that Sky and Antoinette had met at the Rock ‘N Bowl. He clearly remembered that it was the Wednesday two-for-one local brews beer night—two being his max while training for the cup—and Antoinette clearly remembered it being the Tuesday ten frames, ten bucks night, which, as a true bowling nut, brought her to the Rock ‘N Bowl every Tuesday.
“We’ve agreed to disagree,” Antoinette said pleasantly. She had a bell-clear voice and she articulated precisely, which Sky found refreshing after a lifetime listening to loose-jawed snow bunnies. He liked her sophistication, too: trim-cut clothes instead of baggy pocketed stuff, fashion boots instead of snow boots, dramatic full-length coats, not bulbous down-filled parkas. She was not afraid of a little makeup. And, God, those eyes.
“Antoinette grew up in New Jersey,” said Sky. “She snowboarded in the Poconos and Catskills when she was little and learned to ski here when she was fourteen. Guess who taught her here? Robert! Antoinette fell in love—with Mammoth, I mean. She moved here six weeks ago with her cosmetology degree in hand and a job waiting for her. She’s got a chair at Hair It Is and she’s a certified level-three color consultant for Redken. I’ve always liked hairstylists. They’re curious, good conversationalists, and often pretty. I can’t believe it took me six weeks to discover her.”
Sky’s grandfather nodded. “And that’s why your hair is now bright red on the left and bright white on the right?”
“Correct. It’s just a marketing thing, G-pa. Mammoth speed demon goes patriotic.”
“Not to be an old man about this,” said Adam, “but don’t you think an engagement is kind of soon, after only three weeks?”
“It certainly is,” said Antoinette.
“I agree,” said Sky.
“But the sheer wrongness of it,” she said, “is what convinces us it’s right.”
“And the logic in that is where?” asked Adam.
Sky was ready for this. He scooted to the edge of his chair. “It’s nowhere, Grandfather. We know that. That’s why the wedding will be after the season. After I’ve won the Gargantua Mammoth Cup and the X Games in Aspen, there’s going to be the long FIS World Cup circuit in Europe, then the U.S. Olympic team selections in spring. All of which you have generously offered to finance. So … we’re thinking of a classic June wedding. By then, we’ll have been together for almost eight months. And if we’re not still together…”
“We’re both trying to go in with our eyes open,” said Antoinette. “Although I will admit that I am completely, blindly in love with your grandson. And I feel that I always will be.”
Sky noted that both his grandfather and Teresa were sitting unusually still.
“Doubt us all you want,” said Sky. “But give us time. I ask you for that.”
“I will believe in you,” said Teresa.
“You make my heart glad,” said Sky.
Antoinette bowed her head again.
“Well,” said Adam. “You’re twenty-six, Sky. I want to believe in you. I am ready to believe. I want you to find a good woman and settle down. But there is a much more urgent concern. Namely, the Mammoth Cup. I expect to see your good character and steady nerves in that race. I expect to see you on the podium.”
“I’ll be there, sir.”
“And if you and Wylie run afoul of each other on the X Course that day, I expect sportsmanship out of you—in spite of your empty and theatrical threat.”
Sky absorbed this body blow with a nod, vowing to reverse its sharp thrust and, like a hapkido master, convert its power to his own. It was all in the plan. “No, sir. My threat is not empty.”
“Focus on the race,” said Adam.
“I have done that, G-pa. You’ll see.”
But Sky knew that words would not satisfy his grandfather. Not after so many wasted ones. So many false starts, broken promises, bold declarations that amounted, in the end, to nothing. Which is why he was looking forward to G-pa’s reaction when he won the cup. That victory would wipe the doubt from G-pa’s face once and for all. Wipe it right off, Sky. I never could. With the Gargantua Cup victory, Sky would step forth into the world as a fully emerged man, a man respected, a man whose word was his bond. Sky breathed slowly and deeply, banishing all negativity, or most of it. He was surprised to hear the Black Not lurking so close by, so soon after their last episode.
“Sir, may I say something about Sky’s alleged threat?” said Antoinette.
“Of course you may.”
Antoinette stood and clasped her dainty hands together in front of her, like a student preparing to give a speech. “Sky and I have had some long talks about Wylie Welborn, and the … promise that Sky made at Mountain High that night. Sky’s public vow was to punish Wylie if he knocked Sky—or anyone else—off the X Course again. It was a promise to the mountain and to any person on it.” Sky watched Antoinette’s hands release each other as she looked at Adam and Teresa in turn. “But—and this is what everyone seems to forget—in one wonderful, beautiful, gracious moment, Sky Carson followed up by saying he would withdraw his threat if Wylie would apologize for what he had done. Sky was willing to forgive Wylie, and he said so, publicly. It was the moral thing to do. But no apology came. Instead, Wylie sucker punched Sky in the restaurant for no reason, and they’ve not said a word since.”
Antoinette swung back her shiny black mane and cast a firm look at Adam. She had delivered comparable speeches to Sky, though on differing subjects. He loved them. They were always truthful and persuasive. And in that clear voice, they were tonally beautiful, too, like a Sierra creek or rain on a roof. Antoinette’s speeches seemed to run on their own fuel. Now she walked around the wing chairs and the big couch, circling back to where she’d started.
“So,” she continued. “What we came up with was that Sky and Wylie should sit down together alone and talk it all out. The sooner the better. Wylie can apologize in private, and Sky can retract his threat without losing face. Because—and here’s the heart of it, sir—Sky doesn’t need this hanging over him before the race. It’s a burden. He loses sleep over it. He obsesses. It eats away at him. Sky doesn’t want to ‘punish’ Wylie at all. He only wants the apology and an acknowledgment of truth. It doesn’t have to go viral, or even be public.”
“So the threat is empty,” said Adam.
“No, Grandpa,” said Sky, summoning calm. “I mean what I said. I mean it … thoroughly. Shouldn’t you be trying to talk me out of it?”
“But the whole point is, Sky will retract it for the apology,” said Antoinette. “This is a mark of good character, sir, and Teresa. And a way to get this thing off his back and win the cup. That’s all he wants for now. So, with that in mind, we were hoping you could bring them together, sir. Sky and Wylie. Maybe right here in this beautiful room. They’ll talk if you order them to talk. You alone. They respect you more than anybody on Earth.”
Sky watched his grandfather pry his gaze away from Antoinette, glance at Teresa, then slowly rise. It took him longer and longer these days. He certainly was tall. The room was quiet enough for Sky to hear his grandfather’s joints crack. Adam walked slowly and steadily toward Antoinette, who stood waiting for him in the middle of the room.
Adam nodded and offered his hand and she shook it.
* * *
For Sky, the next hour of conversation was a pleasure. He mostly listened. His grandfather and Teresa prodded Antoinette with questions about her family and childhood, and Antoinette responded with all her natural charm and easy grace. That voice of hers was so clear and bright. He learned some more things about her, too—that her community-college-speech-teacher father spoke four languages; her eldest sister had di
ed at birth; her mother, a trial attorney, ran triathlons and was now on her fourth marriage. One of the things that Sky first loved about Antoinette was her reaction to the fate of his father at the hands of his mother. “What a terrific loss for everyone,” she had said, brown eyes becoming wet.
Sky gazed down the mountain to the bustling little village. The eastern sky looked like powdered lead and he’d heard that more snow was on the way. He could feel his own inner barometer lowering in response to this minor snowfall and the promise of more on the way. When he smelled something markedly appetizing wafting into the room, his grandfather asked, “Are you still eating that slime instead of real food?”
“Sir, yes, sir. It’s called Soylent. I’m supernaturally strong now. I’ve clocked a fifty-nine-second X Course run on the Imagery Beast. The first ever.”
“But not on the real X Course.”
“There’s no snow on the real X Course.”
“Under one minute?”
“Fifty-nine point seven five.”
His grandfather nodded. “Well. Nice. Teresa has made us up some venison chili that is excellent, and ready to be served. Please stay for lunch.”
* * *
After lunch, Antoinette wanted to see Robert again. Sky was intrigued and impressed that she had developed such a lasting affection for Robert, having taken ski lessons from him five years ago, when she was fourteen. Cynthia let them in, touched Sky’s newly colored hair, and reported that Robert had been communicating more clearly these last few days—sometimes by fluttering an eyelid, sometimes by subtle changes in respiration. Robert’s fiancée, Hailee, was there, too, and to Sky she looked disheveled and dispirited.
They stood in the warm bedroom, the blinds open to let in the autumn light. Sky greeted Robert cheerfully, touching his hair and face. Antoinette reintroduced herself as one of Robert’s students from five years ago. She recalled that her first run with Robert had been down Schoolyard. She told him she still loved to ski. Hailee stared wordlessly.
Then Cynthia bored in close, face-to-face with Robert, and told him about the last snowstorm—which had dropped six very nice inches—and the storm forecast for later that night, which was supposed to be heavier. “I know how much you love the snow,” she said. “Don’t you, Robbie?” They waited a long moment in silence for either the eyelid flutter or respiration-rate change.
“Might be asleep,” said Sky.
“Quite certainly,” said Cynthia.
“You’re beautiful, Robert,” said Antoinette.
Sky watched Hailee turn, hugging herself, and leave the room.
“No room onboard for the unhopeful,” said Cynthia. “There, did you see that? Left eyelid. His response is not always immediate.”
“Yeah,” said Sky. “Pretty sure I saw it.”
* * *
Sky drove Antoinette back to her apartment. They stopped off at Von’s for a few things she needed. As they were crossing the parking lot Megan and Johnny Maines and Ivan the Terrier all paraded past.
“Mahalo, bitches!” Johnny called out, waving. “I’ve got money on you for the Mammoth Cup, Sky! Don’t let Wylie Welborn butt you off that mountain again!”
Sky and Antoinette walked to Sky’s car, each holding a plastic shopping bag and the other’s hand. At the mention of Wylie Welborn’s name, Sky’s expansive mood seemed to deflate and fall again. He heard the Black Not cackling faintly in the background. He took a deep breath.
“Are you okay, Sky?”
“More than okay.”
“Was it what Johnny Maines said about the race?”
“Indeed. I’m trying to control my emotions.”
“Adam will arrange the meeting. You can get to the other side of this thing. I so believe in you.”
“You’re the only person in the world who does.”
“I almost never hear self-pity in you.”
“That was factual, not self-pitying.”
They walked the rest of the way to the car in silence and Sky took another deep breath. You can do this.
“What do you guess Adam and Teresa think of me?” she asked.
He looked at Antoinette. It startled him that someone with so much intelligence and good grooming could be so uncertain of herself in the eyes of others. “I think they were impressed but worried that we’re hurrying things.”
“Well, we kind of are.”
“Totally. It’s part of the rush. But, Antoinette, I’m nonbudgeable in what I feel for you. I’ve made up my mind. So it is written. I love you very much and want you to be my wife.”
They put the bags in the trunk of the Subaru; then Sky held the passenger door open for her. Before climbing in, she stepped up close to Sky and kissed his lips lightly. “I’m proud to be your woman. I’m going to be the best woman you’ve ever had. I’m so sorry about Robert. I still remember the day I skied with him. You reminded me of him the second we met.”
“We were—are very different.”
“Less than you think. And he didn’t have your disadvantages.”
“It wrecks my soul to see him,” said Sky. “But I try to be strong for Mom.”
“You’re a good son.”
“I’m not sure what to do with crazy people.”
“Just love them.” She hugged him tight. She was small and slender enough to practically disappear. Her voice came from almost behind him now, disembodied, like his father’s. But Antoinette’s voice was invariably positive, not negative. Not not. “You don’t feel the Black Not coming, do you?”
“A presence but not a threat.”
“It’ll pass. You can beat it! I’m with you, Sky.”
“I feel like I was raised by a gigantic ghost with a face bigger than the whole town of Mammoth Lakes, and she hovers just above the tree line and watches everything I do. Do you think Wylie will talk?”
“For Adam, yes.”
“But not for me.”
She broke the embrace, sat down in the car, and looked up at him as she swept the shoulder restraint into place. “You two are half brothers. You’re going to figure it out. Just remember to stick to your facts and your ideas when you talk with Wylie. We’ll write out the main points on four-by-six note cards you can take with you.”
“Awesome, Antoinette. You are awesome.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Then, as in a movie smash cut or in a dream, Sky was sitting in the same wing chair in his grandfather’s aerie without Adam or Teresa, only Wylie heavily seated where Antoinette had been, seemingly moments ago. It was night, and in the expanse of the outdoor lights Sky saw the thin carpet of boulder-strewn snow, and beyond that the blackness of the slope, then the distant twinkling Christmas globe of a town far below.
“What’s with the hair?” asked Wylie.
“Antoinette did the color. What do you think?”
“Well…”
“I may grow a beard and have her do it sky blue.”
Wylie nodded in his superior way, Sky noted, or was it pure disdain? “I’m glad you showed,” Sky said, looking down at the note cards. Antoinette’s handwriting was neat and as sweet as her voice. Clear air first. “I want to clear the air so we can have a good clean race.”
“I’m good with you, Sky.”
Recap facts of the attacks. “Not so fast. You forced me off the X Course last January. And knocked me out at Slocum’s.”
“To clear the air, you have to let go of those things.”
“Exactly.”
“I can’t let go of them for you, Sky.”
Politely restate request for apology. “But you can apologize for running me off the course. Then I can let go. Really, that’s all it would take.”
“Are those note cards?”
Wylie looked at him for a long beat and Sky returned it. Without his beard, Wylie looked less bearlike and less intimidating to Sky. With the long hair, Wylie could have a Jesus look going, if only he could bring spiritual credibility to his face. Sky could see their father’s bones in him, at least
what bones he could extrapolate from photos and video. Sky also noted the skeptical, show-me stare that nearly every Carson had. And, as always, Sky saw something of the brute stubbornness that ran through the river Carson like a deep, wide undertow. Wylie still held his gaze.
“Sky. I brushed by you. I took the line and you lost it and canned up. I won’t endorse your lie. And I won’t apologize for what I didn’t do. Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m asking you.”
“I won’t. You can’t revise something once it’s done. You don’t get to. Nobody does. You have to see things for what they are. Not what you want them to be.”
“But you, Wylie, can change things with a simple apology.”
“No. I can’t change things at all, with anything. That’s the whole point, and you don’t get it.”
“I knew you’d be too stubborn and self-righteous to apologize.” There was a long silence, until Sky spoke again. He watched the snow slanting softly down. “And there’s the threat I made.”
“Right.”
“I won’t retract it.”
“I let it go, Sky.”
“Big mistake. I gave my word on it. And my word is something I don’t retract. Not anymore.”
“Right.”
Right. The inflection in Wylie’s voice hit Sky like the X Course rocks he’d busted up on that day. It was a revelation. He dropped the cards to the floor. He sensed the Black. Not nearby, eavesdropping on all this. He heard his father’s soft cackle. He tried to blot it out so he could hear Antoinette’s clear, logical, persuasive voice. “You don’t take my warning seriously.”
“No. I never did.”
“Never?”
“Not after I saw the water come out of the squirt gun.”
“Not even a shadow of doubt?”
“A very occasional one, maybe.”
“What if the gun had been real?”
“There you go again, trying to change what can’t be changed.”
“The realness of the gun is changeable. Didn’t you learn threat assessment in the war?”
“From the second I signed my name at the recruiting office.”
Crazy Blood Page 22
