The Chair

by James L. Rubart

  “Great. Thanks.” Corin wiped his hands on a dish towel and joined her.

  “Is this where you keep all your photos?” Tori sat on the couch, studying his laptop, her legs crossed on the coffee table in front of her.

  “What?”

  “On your laptop, is that where you keep all your pictures?”

  “Yeah.” Corin sat beside her and propped up his legs next to hers.

  “And where do you keep your backups?”

  “Backups?”

  Tori flicked him on the shoulder with her forefinger. “You are not going to tell me you don’t back up your photos.”

  “No, I would never tell you that. I’ll let you come to that conclusion on your own.”

  “Tell me you’re kidding.” Tori clicked on a folder opening up some year; he couldn’t tell which one unless he squinted and he didn’t feel like squinting.

  “I’m not exactly a technowizard when it comes to computers.”

  “I understand. It’s quite a challenge to stick a blank DVD into your computer, drag your photos over into a file, and hit Burn.”

  “Ha.”

  “I’ll do it for you if you like.” She opened another folder and spun through a set of photos. It looked like his backpacking trip to the top of Castle Peak.

  “You would?”

  “Sure. And you should back them up into the Cloud too.”

  “The Cloud?”

  “You have to know what the Cloud is.”

  “Storing it on someone else’s server where people can steal your images.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back into the softness of his leather couch.

  “We’re talking pictures here, Corin. Do you really have such valuable pictures that people would try to steal them?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Wow.” Tori bumped him with her elbow. “I didn’t know you skied.”

  “I don’t.” Not for the past ten years.

  “This isn’t you in this picture?”

  Corin opened his eyes and looked at the computer screen. His heart rate accelerated and his face grew hot. How did she find that? “What?”

  “Right here.” Tori pointed to the picture filling his laptop’s monitor. “Looks like a wicked jump. You have to be twenty-five feet in the air. Nice. Who’s that with you? It is you, right?”

  Heat continued pouring into Corin’s face. “Where did you find that? Why did you dig that up?”

  “What’s your problem? It wasn’t hidden; it was right there in that folder with a bunch of other pictures from long ago and far away. Are you one of those people who puts dead-end signs on memory lane?”

  “Delete it.” Corin reached over and slammed his laptop shut. “I . . .” He got up, strode to the front door, yanked it open, and spilled down his steps into the front yard.

  Not cool. Not right for that photo to pop up out of the past and grab him around the throat. Especially with Tori there. He spit on the ground. Why did she pull that thing up?

  He grabbed the aspen tree at the end of his walkway and squeezed. He needed to get a hold of himself. It wasn’t her fault. He should have deleted the picture a long time ago, but he’d buried that part of his life and hadn’t remembered the photo was still on his computer. It must have been transferred over when he did the dump from his old desktop.

  Corin turned and stared through his living room window, the warm glow of the lamps on either side of his couch bathing Tori in a soft light. He would have to tell her something, but what? How the day that photo was taken was the darkest of his life? How he’d unsuccessfully wiped its existence from his memory? How a few minutes ago his heart had once again been ripped from his chest and doused in forty thousand gallons of guilt and regret and she’d just lit the match?

  As he hiked across his lawn, up his front porch stairs, he decided to tell her as little as possible.

  She looked up as the front door creaked open. “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She gestured toward the laptop.

  “No.”

  “You should.”

  “I know.”

  “Talk to me.”

  Corin stumbled over to the couch and slumped down beside her. “Did you delete it?”

  “I get the feeling it’s not mine to delete.”

  “I suppose not.” Corin leaned his head back again and clicked his teeth together as if he could bite the emotions coursing through his soul in two and make them die.

  “You need to let some light into whatever dark closest you’re hanging out in at the moment.”

  “You can’t image how dark.”

  In the next moment the entire memory flooded his mind as if it had happened yesterday.

  “That’s a double black diamond just begging to be conquered,” Shasta said after he skidded to a stop at the top of a narrow chute barely ten yards wide and sidestepped over to Corin.

  “You think it’s enough of a challenge for us?”

  “Hardly. But for the next week I can’t do anything pegging on the far side of mildly challenging.”

  “No worries; I’m not taking you down it. We have other plans.”

  “And you’re going to tell me about them when?”

  “When we get there.” Corin motioned with his ski pole toward the lift that would dump them at the top of Heaven’s Gate. “Let’s go.”

  A minute later they settled onto the lift and lurched up the mountain at a forty-five degree angle, the sun creating a blazing white carpet dotted with cliffs and bristlecone pine trees.

  “How are your feet?”

  “Toasty.” Shasta laughed. “I’m so ready to marry Robin.”

  “Good. Then coming up here wasn’t a waste of time.” Corin swung his boots and skis to keep the circulation in his legs moving.

  “The place we’re going isn’t packed with our usual insanity, right?”

  “Nope. We’re going someplace special.”

  “Why doesn’t that bring me any comfort?”

  Corin smiled. “If after we’re done, if you don’t agree it was the absolute right call to do this, I’ll eat one of my gloves.” He shook one of his blue-black gloves in the air and shouted, “Chow time.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  Four minutes later they skidded to a stop at the top of the lift and gazed out over the miles of slopes below them. A pin-thin road slalomed through the white miles to their right, to their left were bright red signs proclaiming DANGER.

  “Right or left?” Shasta asked.

  Corin grinned. “Left.”

  “Why did I know you were going to say that?”

  “Because I’m your brother.”

  “Nothing crazy.”

  “Nope, nothing crazy.” Corin raised his dark brown sunglasses and winked. “Trust me.”

  After tightening his boot buckles, Corin shoved off and traversed over the edge of a small cliff just past the danger sign, and the sound of the lift vanished. They’d have to take it slow for the first fifty yards, but after that the slope was more than manageable for skiers of their ability.

  He led them down a narrow, tree-lined path that stayed high on the ridge. Six hundred or so yards later, they emerged into an open bowl offering another panoramic view of the resort two thousand feet below them.

  Corin threw his arms wide and gazed from side to side at the snow-shrouded mountains. “Nice scenery, huh?”

  “Gorgeous.”

  Cars crept along the winding highway just beyond the resort. Tiny specs, dark against the pristine slopes, were skiers and snowboarders carving up the snow, looking for a slice of fun on the frozen water.

  Corin smiled to himself as he squinted toward the spot he’d picked out last week a half mile away. This day was perfect. No snow, only sun creating the perfect setting. Shasta would love it.

  “Ready?”

  Shasta nodded and Corin shoved off across the face of the bowl of virgin powder. Five minutes later they reach
ed a long chute with a moderate slope.

  “We’re here.”

  “You ready to reveal your grand plan?”

  Corin pointed to a rise at the bottom of the slope and Shasta studied the area below them.

  “You’ve found a jump.” Shasta took off his sunglasses and squinted against the glare ricocheting off the snow. “A big one.”

  “That I have.”

  “I can’t do it, bro, you know that.” Shasta put his sunglasses back on. “How would I look walking down the aisle with crutches?”

  “Stylish.” Corin grinned. “C’mon, you want to do this. Last jump before you’re locked in forever.”

  “Locked in?”

  “In a good way.”

  “Why do you always do this to me?” Shasta sighed. “For the last few years you’ve been making us skate on paper-thin ice.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means we’re getting older and you’re like a junkie always having to find a higher high.”

  “You’re not saying you’re getting scared in your old age are you?”

  Shasta stared at him. “I’m saying there’s an edge over which adventure turns into leaving any kind of control too far back in the rearview mirror.”

  “It’s one jump.”

  “Besides, Robin will kill me if I’m sitting in Jamaica with my leg wrapped in a thirty-pound cast.”

  “They don’t do casts like that anymore; it would be four pounds max.”

  Shasta glared at him.

  “You really want to bag out on this?” Corin spread his arms, palms up. “Last jump as single brothers?”

  Shasta dug his ski into the snow. “How big?”

  “Twenty-five, thirty feet high. Sloped landing, forty degrees. Perfect. I was here last weekend to check it out and did the jump three times.”

  “That’s the jump?” Shasta asked as he gazed down the slope.

  “Yeah, you’re looking at the right one. Straight down the chute, just to the left of the jagged rock about two thirds of the way down.”

  “I shouldn’t do this, Corin.” Shasta zipped up his coat to his neck. “I’m not doing it.”

  “You have to.”

  “Why? We’ve jumped off millions of these things. Why is this one so important? Why can’t my wedding take priority?”

  Corin pointed down the slope. “See anyone moving down there?”

  Shasta moved his head to the left, then to the right as he peered down the slope. “Yeah, I see someone. You know him?”

  “It’s Tony Budiseski. I asked him to come.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s your wedding present from me to you, bro.” Corin smiled. “When we launch ourselves into the air, Tony is going to snap a thousand high-speed shots. We pick the best one, blow it up into a poster, and you put it on the wall of your garage so you can remember us when you’re all domesticated. ’Cause after we do this, life will never be the same.”

  “You’re a piece of work.”

  “I sure hope so.” Corin waved to Tony, who waved back. “Hey, before we do this, look behind you.”

  Behind them sat a wall of snow and trees so faultless it was like a painting. The sun lit up the snow so brilliantly it was blinding, and gray-black rocks poked out of the snow in a chaotic, beautiful pattern.

  “That’s the background I want for this picture.”

  “How long did it take you to find this spot?”

  “Only three weekends.”

  “I love you, bro,” Shasta said. “Even though you revel in making me dance on tightropes I don’t even want to put a toe on.”

  Corin adjusted his sunglasses. “Ready?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Side by side, four feet apart, they sliced through the snow carving almost identical turns. Fifty feet from the jump they glanced at each other and turned straight downhill. Four seconds to launch.

  Corin glanced at Shasta as the jump surged toward them. Only seconds before they’d be captured on film for eternity. Three, two, one . . . then the snow disappeared and he and Shasta were eagles, soaring together forever.

  Corin let out a whoop, arms and legs splayed out like he could stay in the air for ages. Seconds later his skis whapped onto the steep slope and he slid into a hockey stop, skidding to a halt twenty yards down the chute.

  He let out a victory shout and spun to find Tony. “Did you get it?”

  Tony didn’t answer. He stared over Corin’s shoulder, face pale, eyes wide.

  Corin whipped around searching for Shasta.

  His brother lay face to the snow, fifteen yards down the slope, skis still on his feet, one arm on top of his back, the other splayed out to his side.

  “Shasta, you all right?” No answer. No movement. Corin tore off his skis and tried to run through the snow but kept falling as he struggled to keep his feet from sinking into the soft powder. “Shasta!”

  The only answer was a soft wind that pushed up the sheet.

  A minute later he reached his brother and fell to his knees next to him. “Talk to me, brohan.” Corin ripped off his gloves and placed two fingers on Shasta’s neck. He had a pulse. Weak, but it was steady.

  He turned to Tony. “We need to get him out of here fast!”

  “There’s no one out here and with no SAT phone—”

  “Ski down; you’ll have to get the ski patrol!”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t move him.”

  Corin nodded and turned back to Shasta. His breathing was shallow but rhythmic.

  “I’m here, bro. Wake up. Please.” Corin sat back on his heels as heat washed over him. This couldn’t be happening.

  Corin checked his pulse again, keeping the sun from his face, trying to keep the panic rising in his chest from boiling over.

  What have I done?

  “Hey,” Tori said. “Where’d you go?” She rubbed his shoulder and tilted her head.

  “Sorry.” Corin shifted forward on the couch and scratched his face. “That photo brought it all back.”

  “Brought all what back?”

  Corin stood and stared at the front door. “I gotta go. I mean, I need to be alone with this.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He nodded, walked to the front door, and held it open. “Sorry, it’s not something I can talk about right now.”

  Fifteen minutes later he lay in bed, willing sleep to take him, but when Z-land came, it was worse than the memory of Shasta’s accident.

  CHAPTER 25

  Corin stood on the edge of the bicycle raft trying to step away, but his legs and feet felt wrapped in saltwater taffy. “Move!” he screamed into the air, but no sound came out of his mouth and his mom and dad and Shasta just smiled at him.

  “Let’s switch so I’ll be with Shasta and you can be with Mom . . .”

  “No, Dad, it will tip!” Corin shouted as loud as he could, but the words dropped to the surface of the water and disappeared.

  “Here, let me help you, Corin.” His dad cradled Corin’s elbow in his palm and pulled.

  Corin yanked his elbow away.

  “What’s wrong?” His dad frowned.

  “It’s going to tip and I’ll be caught underwater and I’ll drown. We need to stay where we are!”

  An instant later Corin stood on the other pontoon with the rest of his family. No! His mom and Shasta started to step off onto the other pontoon, smiles on their faces.

  “No! Don’t!” But it was too late. Corin tried to jump into the water, but his feet were superglued to the pontoon.

  Time shifted into slow motion as the pontoon flipped. His stomach churned and he tried to suck in a breath before the water swallowed him, but his mouth was locked shut and a moment later he was under. The chill of the water threw its tentacles around him.

  Sound vanished as he sank into the lake.

  The dark water spun, like a whirlpool sucking him ten feet deeper in a blink. Then twenty, thirty. Corin forced his gaze upward. The light filtering d
own through the green water grew hazy, then vanished as the lake pulled him farther into the dark.

  “No!” He tried to shout out but water surged into his mouth and lungs choking his cry. Then darkness. And nothingness. Always the nothingness. Thicker this time as if it had fingers pulling him down and pulling the life out of him.

  Pulling his soul out of him.

  CHAPTER 26

  Corin pulled up to Professor Tesser Lange’s home at 5:55 a.m., excited to see his old friend and glad he’d made it a few minutes early. The professor didn’t like people to be late. Especially on the first day of the week. Or he didn’t use to. Had it really been ten years since he’d seen the old man?

  He’d meant to come by more often, but there was always something urgent pounding at him, keeping him from dropping by. Growing the business. Taking care of the business. Trips overseas to find exotic treasures people would pay thousands for, which translated into bread on his table and a car in his driveway. Going through his divorce. The tyranny of the urgent subduing the important and memorable.

  Corin trod the walkway leading to Tesser’s house and smiled. The home still needed painting. The dark brown paint was peeling in a thousand places. The lawn needed mowing. Strike that. The lawn needed a machete taken to it. His roof could probably be sold in Corin’s store for a hefty price it looked so ancient.

  Professor Ted C. Lange. Tesser hated the name Ted and had told his students on the first day of class to call him Tesser or nothing. He and Corin had struck up a friendship that grew from frequent visits in the professor’s office at the university into dinners at his home that lasted late into the night into three trips together to Italy, Greece, and Spain.

  Corin saluted as he climbed the cracked steps leading to Tesser’s front door. It was good to be back.

  Corin pushed the doorbell right at the same moment he noticed a tiny sticky note in the middle of the door.

  Come in, Corin; it’s always unlocked, you know that.

  He did. They’d argued countless times about Tesser leaving his door unlocked even when he went on trips. Corin tried to convince him that with the valuable volumes on his shelves and priceless artifacts stored in glass cases throughout his home, it was like giving a standing invitation to people with no interest in respecting other people’s property.