Snow Blind

by Richard Blanchard

  I gather my things.

  “Sorry, we have to go but I am really worried about these bastards Dan.” I never swear.

  “Let them play their games, I can handle it.” Dan says as we cross the square again. “Don’t get me wrong; I hate all the macho bullshit, but they are harmless. They have come away just for me haven’t they, so they deserve some fun. They don’t worry me anymore.” So what does worry you now Dan?

  “I think I know a shortcut to the back of the hotel from here.” I propose a new route.

  “Okay babe I will always follow you.” He smirks at me as if we are on the same page. I think the man still loves me. We are in deep trouble.

  CHAPTER 25

  Juliet 16.29

  “WHY CAN’T MEN DEAL WITH AN EMOTIONAL TRUTH?’

  I walk at city pace, too fast for conversation. I stride beyond my natural gait expertly weaving around human obstacles. This is a pace used after a pressured lunch break or en-route to my next mode of transport. My walking boots provide necessary grip, but my right heel rubs and threatens to blister.

  Dan lopes alongside, beside or behind me, grinning, as the pace does not exert him. Our innocent shopping amble through Chamonix feels long gone. I am going to be late anyway, but have to get to the stag meeting before it is too late.

  We re-cross the pathway over the river, it gushes with grey swirling mountain water.

  “We can cut through behind the Alpine Museum.” Dan shrugs and smiles at my directions. He doesn’t realise why I am in such a hurry to meet his stags. I am also propelled by the growing confusion between us.

  “When we get to the lobby, it’s best you go straight up to your room.” He doesn’t need to hear more nastiness. He accepts the instruction.

  We cross a half-filled car park. Locals sit in the boots of their 4x4s changing back into normal footwear. Skis are in danger of toppling at the side of their cars. I rise over a dirty snow mound churned up by the successive parkers. Not far from the hotel.

  We enter a narrow cobbled passageway, the Avenue du Temple. Our footsteps echo from the church to our left, which hides the low sun. We can barely manage to walk single file; my shopping bags brush the tight conifer bushes on our right.

  First we hear a burst of laughter ahead. Then “Donatella!” is shouted for all to hear. Three young men burst out from a bend in the pathway. All early twenties, I immediately assume they are Italian. They are so wrapped up in their own teasing that the first man cannot stop in time, he shoulder-barges me and his legs tangle with the sports bag. Ethan’s top spills out onto the cobbles.

  “Watch out will you! Look what you have done.” I turn angrily to recover the bag, but am pinned against the bushes.

  “Inglese Buffone.” My assailant has detected my nationality and is angry as well. His hair is coal black in ridiculously tight curls. He presses his left forearm across my throat to keep me still. His friends see the spilt bag and pick up Ethan’s jacket.

  “Molto bene. Kappa.” They immediately start to argue over the destination of the top.

  “Hey guys let’s give it back to the lady,” Dan implores them to return it. They offer it to him then snatch it away when he lays his hand on it. Dan smiles patiently and tries their game again unsuccessfully.

  “Come on guys.” He stands without urgency, hands imploring by his side. His long hair and glasses mark him out as an English eccentric. They know they have his mark; the two jostle and tease Dan as I am held.

  “Sexy lady want jiggy jiggy?” The cliché would be laughable but I can’t judge his strength of purpose. He licks his index finger longingly and plunges it towards my crotch. One finger is forcibly pushed into my covered vagina, as if it could pierce my jeans. It is a naive attempt to persuade me of his sexual prowess.

  “You want?” He thinks he is getting somewhere.

  I deliver a punch below his ribs. It makes an impact but his snowboard jacket softens the blow. He makes a move to grasp my right breast but I swing the Chamonix book at his head. He uses the left forearm across my throat to push me further back into the bushes. I am momentarily stuck in them; hair entangled. He runs off past his friends who are still taunting Dan. I recover my balance and pull myself out.

  “Guys, guys.” Dan has shut down; his hooded eyes try to cover his embarrassment. He hopes it will all disappear. A second Italian runs off. As a final insult the last guy drops the jacket on the floor, unzips his trousers and urinates on it.

  “Yeehah!” He cackles at his insult and shakes his penis in our direction. Re-zipped he in turn takes off, running towards where we came across the car park.

  This sickening insult is over in a flash; the only material evidence is my soaked present. Although I am in a state of high indignation, I am also relieved that it stopped where it did. I can make no real sense of this violation.

  “You okay babe?”

  “I have just been half-strangled, threatened and touched up by strangers. Okay doesn’t really cover it.”

  “They were just in high spirits.” Daniel tries to re-make the scene into something more benign.

  “High spirits! Don’t be such a walk-over all your life Dan.” How does this man exist? How could he ever look after anyone else? So charming and self-effacing, I see something sinister in my ex-partner for the first time. He is completely without conviction.

  “Hey, that’s not fair.”

  “Let’s just get out of here Dan.” A cold surge is wafting down this besmirched passageway.

  “I will get the jacket for you.”

  “Do you think I am going to give that to Ethan now you idiot?” I was going too far but I had to express my outrage. He hadn’t asked for this to happen.

  “Just put it in the bag, we can dump it at the hotel, but hurry will you.” He picks up an untainted sleeve and drops it into the partially ripped paper bag. I am fifteen minutes late already; I don’t even know if they will still be there. We chase on down the rest of the passageway with even more urgency. Behind the hotel, we pass under an enclosed wooden footbridge that joins its two wings. At the front of the hotel I hear whispered voices above me.

  “Take that Staggie.” Max and Steve shout from a window on the footbridge. Chris empties a full bucket of snow from on high. Dan’s hair is swallowed, his glasses knocked to the ground. All of the group look down on him from above. Some snow splashes onto my face. I instantly regret my shortness with him. He is under attack from every angle and needs help. A second bucket of snow misses its target as we dash inside. I hold out no real hope for him.

  CHAPTER 26

  Juliet 16.44

  “HOW DO MEN MANAGE TO LEAD?”

  “Snow man how goes it?” Max is the first to arrive in the lobby from upstairs, but the others come running and laughing just behind.

  “Snow way! Is that Dan I see before me?” Johnny contributes.

  “Is it snowing again outside?” Steve asks him.

  “Very funny guys, I should have expected another prank today.” Dan accepts his plight in good grace. He shakes his jacket and litters clumps of snow on the rustic tiled floor in front of a silent receptionist. They have probably seen worse.

  “As for you Chris, you are meant to be looking after me bro,” Dan protests.

  “It’s better than stripping you naked and dumping you in a snow bank which they wanted,” Chris replies.

  “Anyway there is snow chance of you coming to this meeting Staggie so piss off upstairs,” Robert directs him to the lift.

  “Look at the state of you. You look like you have been dragged through a hedge backwards. Did you two love birds just have a shag for old time’s sake somewhere?” Robert turns his attention to me.

  “Hey, leave her man; we have just had an incident with some Italians.” Dan belatedly stands up for me.

  “Is Juliet thirsting for some foreign cock then?” Robert is alive, warming his negligible charm up for the main event. I ignore him. I don’t ever expect his sympathy.

  “Let’s get
this over and done with. Grab those seats over there by the fireplace. Go and piss off lanky. Does your ex-girlfriend want to go and hose you down you while the boys sort out the main event?” With me out of the way Robert knows he would have the whip hand.

  “Thanks but I would be delighted to hear what you boys have to say.” I am sure Robert never expected me to leave but it was worth a try. Dan catches a lift, not knowing how I intend to rescue him.

  “Jules babe, would you be a doll and use the kitty to get a round in while we kick off?” Max is also trying to exclude me. The barman is busy. As everyone settles into a seat I wave and attract his attention. He mercifully comes over.

  “Cinq bierre, une l’eau naturelle, si’l vous plait.” Robert and Max exchange disappointed glances as I get water.

  “Alright then, it’s almost five now thanks to the late arrivals. We have three things to discuss; tonight’s party, tonight’s after-dinner entertainment and tomorrow’s skiing.” Robert kicks off a rehearsed agenda.

  “What’s happening for dinner Johnny?”

  “I have booked us into an Italian restaurant in Courmayeur, called the Tunnel at seven o’clock. We should be back over here for about eleven. They know a stag do is coming so are sticking us out the way. I have booked two cabs to pick us up from reception at six.”

  “Hang on isn’t Courmayeur in Italy?” Steve tests his geography.

  “Yes, that’s what’s special about it. He loves everything Italian. It’s a short trip though the Mont Blanc tunnel. Oh by the way I have had the airport photograph blown up as promised. Can you all sign it so we can present it to him tonight?” I am sure his love for Italy is not at its highest at the moment.

  “Okay, okay, is that settled, get down here for six? Can people just think of some things that will embarrass the shit out of him?” Robert tries to move on quickly.

  “Do we need liras or will they take Euros?” Steve laughs out loud at Chris’s travel ignorance.

  “Max and I have been seeking out the ladies of the night around here! They all gather round the back of the casino, so we will take pot luck when we get back into town.” They all grin but some are straining.

  “No chance. A stripper maybe but you cannot expect him to have sex. He won’t do it anyway.” My moment of intervention has arrived.

  “Look girly; we have been through this. We are all going to put fifty Euros each into a kitty to get him some action.”

  “I refuse to go along with it. You are not getting a cent off me.”

  “I don’t think I could get it up if it was me.” Johnny tests to see if there are any chinks in Robert’s armour.

  “Frankly I couldn’t give a fuck. Well I could and I can actually.” Robert becomes aware of the eighteen-year-old waitress standing in earshot by the dining room.

  “Don’t get involved, this is a man thing,” he lowers his tone. I can’t win but Dan will probably be falling over by midnight so that should get him off the hook. I will stay close.

  “Money in the kitty now please!” Everyone seems to be complying. I go to the toilet to escape this detestable man.

  “… by twelve o’clock we will be fine.” Robert finishes a sentence on my return.

  “Do what by twelve o’clock?” I ask.

  “Gone up the Aiguille du Midi cable car as planned,” Robert snaps back.

  “You are not still planning to take four novice skiers off-piste still are you? Have you told them that they are expected to take climbing gear to avoid falling to their death off the first ridge? Or maybe you have just prepared them to ski half-drunk in deep powder, which they have never done before. Probably you told them there is no piste patrol to look out for them when they have to pick their way down the crevasses to reach the valley floor. And of course I bet you have got that guide booked. You prize idiot.” It needed strong intervention.

  For the second time on our trip Robert slowly raises out of his seat, prefacing an attack on me. This time it is Chris who intervenes.

  “I am not going on that, you can fuck off, and I don’t think our kid should go either,” Chris tells him. The only man here with discernable balls.

  “Have you got a guide then?” I ask Robert again.

  “I made an enquiry, but I know my way down without one.”

  “Why don’t you and me call him now and see if he can make it?” As usual the others stay out of the argument, either primed to agree with Robert or too timid to challenge him.

  Robert waits for the number to pick up as we stand by the bar. “Parlez English?” he asks, obviously receiving some sort of yes as he continues in his native tongue.

  “Can you guide a party of six down the Vallée Blanche tomorrow? I see. Great!” His eyes flash up at mine. “No nothing like that. Yes, it’s a great adventure isn’t it? The weather is cold at the top though.”

  “Can I speak to him Robert?” He moves away from me shaking his head. He places both elbows on the bar.

  “Okay then, about twelve o’clock at the bottom of the Aguille then. Bonne nuit.” Robert ends his call.

  “Are you sure he is okay with it?”

  “Back off will you. You are lucky to be here lady. In fact why are you here? No-one would have missed you.” Dan would have.

  We return to the group. “That’s sorted then. We are meeting Jean-Baptiste our guide, at twelve at the bottom of the lift station.” Robert informs them.

  “Why don’t we ask Dan later if he wants to go?” I think surely he will say no.

  “Ask away if you like, but we are skiing the Vallée Blanche tomorrow. It’s for Dan for Christ’s sake. Where’s the buzz in his weekend if we don’t do something for him to remember? See you all in about an hour for the Italian job.” Robert has his success for now.

  “Don’t forget to sign his card,” Johnny encourages them as they disband. Beers are drained with gusto. Battle orders are prepared.

  CHAPTER 27

  Dan 16.56

  Peace at a price. I lie awake on my harshly sprung bed, forearms crossed over forehead. My calves are pressed painfully into the bed frame, from the weight of my over-hanging feet. Hot water gushes into the cavernous bath, fanning waves of scalding heat back into my bedroom. The stale stink of festering clothes soaked with body odour hits me like smelling salts.

  I am trying to assimilate today. I press uncomfortable bulging thoughts back into my head; but it feels as uncomfortable as manipulating newly formed piles back into my anus. Why didn’t I protect Juliet better? How dare they push me around like that? Would Leslie Nielson do an Airplane spoof for the ByeFly campaign? Does Juliet still love me? Why does Robert give me such a hard time? Can I parallel ski now? What would I be feeling if Bepe had been run over? Do I really want a paisley waistcoat? Will the reception have stamps for my postcard? Will enough young people remember Strangers on a Train? How can I love both Juliet and Sophia so differently? What about listing the seven best places I have ever visited for Bepe? What are they going to do to me tonight?

  I turn onto my front and pull the pillow under my chest to sketch out some advert headlines for ByeFly. I will need to pass them on to Steve tonight for him to visualise.

  “Fall in love at 35,000 feet. Don’t be Strangers on a Plane with ByeFly.”

  “Join the Mile-High Love Club. Fly ByeFly.”

  “It’s ripping, prices are so hideously low. Let’s ByeFly darling.”

  I write more variations on the theme. Each one seems anti-climactic, a betrayal of the idea, they are not strong enough I fear. The Airplane idea is particularly hard to develop as it is so visual, I will need to work with Steve on those.

  The bathwater is a solid mass now; the noise of gushing water is swallowed as it has less distance to fall. I strip and look into the misted mirror. I wipe a hole in it to temporarily spy my face before the condensation takes over again. In the blurred facial image I see through to my soul; fear, confusion and disappointment dance within. Hell I look like I am about to cry. I avoid any angle where I
can see my body; its lankiness mocks me and reminds me of my fragility. I pull the plug to let some hot water out while mixing cold water in.

  Stepping into the bath a shooting pain rises up both shins from today’s compression and over exertion. Bubbles rise and froth like thin cappuccino, some spill onto the tiled floor. I hyperventilate a little when my bottom rests on the enamel; panting like a dog to introduce some cold air quickly into my body. Somehow I get accustomed to the heat and a feeling of weightless bliss arises as I fully recline. My head bobs above the surface of the completely full bath. “This Charming Man” chimes its jangly chords in my head again. After five minutes a sharp intake of breath allows me to immerse myself fully, setting my long hair free to float on the surface. I can’t stay under for long.

  I had purposely tried to keep thoughts of my impending marriage away. As I prepare to go on my stag night I know my marriage is a coming of age. I feel grown up beyond my mental years. This rite of passage must be entered into soberly, as it prefaces a real union. The bones in the back of my skull rest painfully on the bath lip. I close my eyes to shut out the warring voices in my head, relaxation at last claims me.

  I stand at a marbled island in the centre of a gleaming modern kitchen, dressed in a blue apron. The kitchen exudes money from every marbled surface and each solid Birchwood door. I slice red onions and peppers for a Moroccan Gordon Ramsay dish; I don’t cry although his sullen craggy image intimidates me from the front of his book. It is my house and Miles Davis trumpets it out loud via Sketches of Spain. A key click opens a lock; well-heeled shoes clack down a wooden hallway towards me. A woman approaches me from behind but I don’t turn around. I feel my hair swept off my shoulder and a kiss hits the nape of my neck. The pressure of Juliet’s lips is firm, insistent, rewarding. I hear a toilet flush back in the hallway and realise he is with her. Juliet continues to hug me from behind, resting a warm cheek on my thin summer shirt. I move to pick up the vegetable knife again as more footsteps come from down the hall. They are more definite and heavy this time. My wet finger slips from the knife handle and nicks the bottom of the blade, releasing my thumb and a pure purple patch of blood onto the chopping board. Ethan strides into the room looking for his mother…