by Ali Dean
I felt more like an asshole than I had before, and that was saying something.
She didn’t acknowledge my apology though.
“I’ll get Donut back. My lease ends this summer and I’m going to try to find a three-bedroom with Morgan and Grace.”
Good.
We ran in silence for a minute. “How’s it going publishing your great-aunt’s books?”
I didn’t want to lie anymore. But what was the point of telling the truth now?
“It’s not as exciting as it was at the beginning.” There was at least an ounce of truth somewhere in that answer. The ideas never stopped running through my head, and writing was as necessary to me as it always had been. But remaining in that fantasy world, tucked away from the one outside my door, that didn’t feel as necessary. Even though my heart had been ripped out and Charlie would probably stomp on it every time I saw her without having any idea she was doing it, I wouldn’t take back that time with her. Just seeing her now, running by her side, it was a reminder that I didn’t want my life to be wrapped up in my own fictional stories. I could have that, but I could have my own stories too. Even the ones that ended in heartbreak.
“I just finished reading all her books. I can’t believe you’re related to her. Those books, they’re the kind of stories that will stick with me forever. They just suck you in and even though you’re in this different world, it feels so real, like you’re a part of it.”
“You seriously read all of her books?” It had only been six weeks. I’d published fifty-two books.
“See? Like I said, I enjoy proving people wrong.”
“I can’t believe you read fifty-two books in six weeks.” I was dumbfounded.
“All right fine, I’ll admit I did listen to some of them on audio while I was running. That’s part of the reason I like to run for so long now. But now that I’ve finished all of them, I need something new to listen to. Jane’s going to email me some recommendations. But she says I’m probably suffering a major ‘book hangover.’ I guess it’s a thing with Virginia Rose’s books. I feel like I’ve been initiated into some kind of cult.”
“That’s over a book a day.” I couldn’t quite process the idea of Charlie being part of the Virginia Rose fanbase, so I was focusing on how much she’d read in so little time. This kind of reading binge would be crazy for an avid reader, but Charlie didn’t read fiction for fun normally.
“You know it’s pretty slow at work this time of year,” she said, as if that explained it.
We came to a split in the road, and it was where I would go back toward the mountain and she’d head to town. I wanted to keep running with her, but she was already saying goodbye.
“It was good to see you, Tanner. I’m sure I’ll see you on the slopes soon.”
I could barely lift my hand in a wave. She’d read all fifty-two of my books in the six weeks since I’d left, and she believed my great-aunt had written them. Charlie was also completely over what had happened between us, just her normal friendly self. Something nagged at me though as I ran up the hill to my apartment.
She was doing a marathon that was four months away. That seemed like a while from now, and like a harder challenge than the kind of exercise stuff she’d joked about doing in the past with her friends. Granted, she’d done a half recently, and I had the sense that was unrelated to this little cycle she’d been going through. So maybe running was for her, and had nothing to do with me leaving. But the other thing on my mind was that she always seemed to have a new guy, never going more than a month or two single. I’d been paying attention.
That meant she was already due for someone new, and my heart would get shredded all over again. But was it still worth it? My heart was a masochist because it didn’t even hesitate to swell with the memories of being with her, as if it was nodding vigorously in answer.
After showering and changing, I put Meatball on his leash and headed outside to grab lunch and coffee at Slopeside Java. I’d admit that being a short walk to cafes and restaurants was a perk, but the trade-off wasn’t worth it. Convenience didn’t beat solitude.
Meatball huffed loudly and when I glanced down at him he was giving me one of his disapproving looks.
I swore it was like the dog read my thoughts and made these whiny huffy noises whenever he wanted to call me out.
“Fine, dude,” I mumbled. Silently, I corrected myself: “Solitude with Charlie beats convenience.”
Slopeside Java was packed, filled with skiers grabbing lunch and coffee. After tying up Meatball outside the shop, I headed inside to wait in line. Some of the faces I recognized from frisbee, but there were a lot of tourists too.
“Tanner, what’s up, man?” Cliff Bright, Mia’s oldest brother, took his helmet off as he got in line behind me. Next to him was Oliver Avery.
“Thought that was Meatball out there,” Oliver said, nodding in Meatball’s direction. “You’re living in the village now, huh? How’s it going?”
“It’s not bad.”
“You want to join us for some runs? We’re playing hooky,” Cliff told me. It was a pretty well-accepted practice to skip work occasionally in the winter and spend the day at the mountain instead. Even our teachers used to do it sometimes, and we’d get a substitute.
“Thanks, man, but I have to work this afternoon.” I thought about it though. Cliff and Oliver had been three grades ahead of me in school, and we’d always been friendly. In the few months I’d been in Charlie’s orbit, I would even say I’d become friends with them.
“You’re a writer and a musician, I’ve heard?” Oliver’s simple question, asking me to confirm what he’d heard, shouldn’t have made my body tighten up in reflex like it did.
I nodded, and glanced in front of me to see if it was my turn to order yet. I didn’t want them to ask more and force me to lie. But I’d have to get used to it. This was what it would be like for the rest of my life. One little lie I’d have to keep on repeating. One little lie that led to many more. If I’d never moved in with Charlie, never slept with her, never fallen so hard, would these little lies bother me so much? Would I even have to be making them or would people overlook or ignore that I’d seemingly purchased the Stony Brook property on income from sporadic wedding band gigs?
I was relieved the conversation was cut off when I was next in line. After paying, the guy behind the counter handed me a bag with my sandwich and chips, and as I waited for my coffee, Oliver and Cliff ordered.
Glancing outside, I saw Meatball sitting and wagging his tail as he watched me, and a woman walking by stopped to pat him. There was this instinct to grab my coffee and hightail it back to my apartment, where I could hide and avoid questions. It was safer if I did. But there was something else there too, a little niggling inside me looking for an excuse to stick around a bit longer.
I wanted to get closer to Charlie’s world, and find out anything else about what was going on in her life. Would Cliff or Oliver know if she’d been with anyone? If she was interested in someone new? If she ached for me like I did for her? Doubtful. But that wasn’t the only reason. I’d actually come to enjoy having friends. People I liked to talk to, hang with. I didn’t require it or crave it like Charlie, but it had given me something I hadn’t known I’d wanted. And now I was missing it.
“You know,” I told Oliver and Cliff when they were done ordering. “Maybe I’ll play hooky this afternoon too.”
We made plans to meet at the gondola in half an hour so I could bring Meatball home, change, and get my snowboard. I’d just opened my apartment door and let Meatball inside when I heard people coming down the hallway. I was around the corner, out of sight, and when I heard Charlie’s name from a male voice, I paused.
“I don’t think she’s hookin’ up with anyone, not that I’ve heard about,” another male voice said as they got closer.
“She always says ‘maybe’ when I invite her to hang out but then never shows. You think she wants like, a real date, not just all of us chilling or
partying?” It was Riley, and this dude was still after her? I hadn’t gotten the sense he’d have so much perseverance, but then again, it was Charlie we were talking about here.
His buddy, Jed, I think his name was, answered, “Maybe she’s just not into you, Riley.”
“You told me a minute ago you thought she might be.”
They were standing outside the elevator, probably waiting for a ride up since they lived in the building too.
It was all I could do not to burst around the corner and stake a claim, one I didn’t actually have. My heart pounded frantically in my chest.
There was a pause, then Jed asked, “If you don’t hit that soon I’m giving it a shot.”
Charlie wouldn’t actually go for these guys, would she? My shoulders were taut, and my fingernails bit into my skin as I clenched my fists.
“I don’t know if either one of us has a chance after Tanner Moon.” As the elevator door opened, Riley’s voice faded. But I’d caught those words, and they made my fists unclench.
I had no clue if there was any truth to it. If I’d meant anywhere near as much to Charlie as she had to me. I wanted to think I was different from those guys – the Jeds, Rileys, Tophers – but I’d ended things before I’d had a chance to find out. And anyway, it shouldn’t matter. She never knew all of me, and if she did, she might wish she’d never been with me in the first place.
With how miserable I’d been lately, I was starting to think I’d made a huge mistake. I wanted Charlie back more than anything, but I couldn’t keep lying to her. If I told her the truth, she could hate me, or laugh at me, or be weirded out. She’d definitely be distrustful. There was no way out of this that didn’t result in me losing. But was this how I wanted to go down?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Charlie
“I love that you get random weekdays off like I do,” I tell Grace as we step onto the gondola one Friday in February.
“Yes, but I spend most of mine catching up on sleep and lazing around. Meanwhile you’re out there training for a marathon and reading two books a day.”
Even though I know my mileage is a little excessive, I do most of it all on my own, which is progress. See? I can be alone. Usually with an audiobook and imaginary characters, but whatever.
We move to the other side of the gondola to take a seat so two other riders can get on behind us. When they lift their goggles to their helmets, I recognize them from frisbee.
“Grace and Charlie! It’s been a while. How are you doing?” It’s Riley and his friend Jed.
“We’re good. I’m surprised to see you. I thought you all moved out to Jackson Hole for some bigger mountains?” Topher had left with a group of others after the holidays, and while I’d run into Jed and Riley last month, I figured they’d be heading west soon too.
“Nah. We’re sticking around.”
Jed nods at Grace. “You’re Grace Booker, right?”
“That’s me.”
“My little sister used to have a poster of the national team on her wall when we were kids. She loved you. You still do gymnastics at all?”
“Nope. Quit thirteen years ago.”
“She uses her mad skills in the terrain park though,” I brag.
“Mad skills.” Grace snorts. “Right.”
“Grace started snowboarding, what? Six years ago? I’ve been riding for twenty, and she’s already showing me up on the half pipe flipping herself around.”
“I crash most of the time,” she assures the guys.
She does, this is true. But while she’s in the air she looks like, well, she looks like a chick who was a former gymnastics star.
The guys are headed in the same direction and we watch her go ahead of us through the terrain park. I look over at them and they’re shaking their heads. “That was something.”
“You should see her when she’s really showing off,” I tell them before going next. Grace is waiting for me at the top of the super pipe. Most riders never take on the super pipe. Not everyone is into the terrain park and air scene anyway, and just want to carve turns. But even those who like getting air find the super pipe intimidating. I’ve been riding for a long time, and it still gives me goosebumps when I drop in sometimes.
The fact that Grace not only hits the super pipe but actually reaches the edge of it, gets air, and sometimes lands, is testament to her insane athleticism. And her figurative balls. She has huge ones.
“Go ahead,” she tells me. “I need to tighten my binding.”
I stay seated beside her though for a minute, catching my breath and taking in the menacing half tube of snow that runs about a quarter mile down the slope. A typical half pipe is around ten to fifteen feet high but a super pipe is about twenty feet or more on each side, and the vertical is a ninety degree drop all the way. So if you mess up, you’re falling twenty feet onto compact snow. Usually, the board helps break the momentum a little so you slide instead of falling straight on your ass. But not always.
The half pipe demands respect and I treat it with such.
As much as I like a good athletic challenge, I know my limits, and play it pretty conservative in the pipe. Over the years, I’ve worked my way up to catching air, doing grabs. It’s fun just flying high, and unlike Grace, I don’t feel the need to do some sort of layout or flip while I’m up there.
I hop up and jump forward before sliding down, getting low to gain some speed. I ride to the edge and drop right in, working my way halfway up one side, then the other, before I’m able to get enough momentum to reach the top and catch a tiny bit of air before sliding back down.
I’ve got speed now and crouch into position to go higher this time. I hit the edge and get a few inches of air, only enough where I can still comfortably land, before sliding back down. I’m wobbly as my speed picks up, my head spinning a little like it does from going against gravity as I ride up a ninety-foot wall. I try to get my bearings as the speed swoops me right up the opposite wall and I fly in the air. I’m maybe a foot off the edge, but with the world turning around me, my stomach dips at the sensation. It’s too much air and I know I can’t handle the landing, so as I come back down, I try to sit, bracing my fall.
I’m disoriented, and the tip of my board hits the snow with so much force, it launches me forward. My body bangs against the snow, which feels like cement, before bouncing up and crashing down again. I’ve put an arm out on instinct and it bends awkwardly from the impact, sending a sharp pain ricocheting up my arm as I slide backwards, head first, down the mountain.
I stare up at the cloudy sky and am in too much pain to process anything. My head is pounding so hard that the sound of someone riding up next to me is muffled. It’s my wrist though that’s making it hard to breathe.
Grace’s face appears in front of mine. “Are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?”
She puts her mittened hand up in front of me.
“Five?”
She laughs but when she sees me wincing, she pulls her mitten off and gets her cell out of her pocket. “You’ve definitely got a concussion from that. I’ll call ski patrol so you can go down in one of the sleds.”
I don’t argue. I might puke if I sit up. Besides, I’ve always wanted to go down in one of the ski patrol sleds.
When Jed and Riley slide down next to us though and make a big deal about it, I wish the ski patrol would hurry up already. I don’t like being fussed over. The whole process seems to take forever, and the pain in my wrist is rough but I remember we’re not far from the bottom. Besides, this loading into the sled thing isn’t as exciting as I thought it would be. I know both of the ski patrol who arrive. The woman has been at it for years and is in my moms’ book club. The other is Logan, the bassist for Maple Moonshine.
An hour later I’m in the ski patrol clinic at the base, signing papers so I can get out of here.
Grace comes back from the bathroom. “I’ll give her a ride to the clinic in town.” It’s probably a broken wrist, but maybe just a sprai
n.
They’ve wrapped it up with a splint and given me ibuprofen, but it’s time to get an x-ray. The room tilts a little when I stand up, but I don’t want to get stuck here for some protocol. Grace slides her arm through mine. “That’s one nasty concussion,” she mutters. The woman is familiar with them from her gymnastics days.
“I’ll be fine.”
She guides me toward the door and when we get outside, I find Tanner leaning against the wall, head back. It looks like he’s been waiting for me, but I know it’s only wishful thinking. Then he notices us and pushes off the wall. He’s in snowboard gear.
“You’re out already? I was on the chairlift when I saw them come out of the pipe with you in the sled. I came straight here.”
“You could tell it was me in there? I should call my parents before they hear about this and freak.” I turn to Grace. “I shouldn’t have let you call patrol. We could be at the clinic in town by now, or leaving already.”
“Girl, that was a hell of a fall. You hit your head hard and probably would have fallen over in there if I hadn’t helped you out. Plus you’re grumpy, another symptom of head injury and being in pain.”
Since when was Grace so dramatic? “It’s just a wrist injury,” I assure Tanner.
“And a concussion,” Grace adds. “And you’ll probably have bruised ribs and be sore from whiplash tomorrow. I bet you’ll be sore in a lot of places. Your body went like this.”
She splays her hand out in a dramatic up and down motion. “You did catch some nice air though.”
“Where are your boards? I can help carry them to your car.” Tanner looks at Grace. “Where are you parked? Want me to bring it around for you?”
“Tanner, I can walk fine.”
Grace ignores me. “I’ll get the car and you wait with Charlie in the drop-off zone.”
It’s only a short walk to the drop-off zone, but it does make my headache kick back up, so I decide not to be too annoyed at being babied.
Tanner takes a seat beside me on an open bench, my snowboard standing up between his legs.
