9 comments/ 1647 views/ 8 favorites Roundabout 01 By: Adrian Leverkuhn Roundabout I'm tired. Tired, and my legs burn. Oh, roll over and go back to sleep, you fucking idiot. No. The damn iPhone isn't going to let me, is it? How do I turn this fucker off...? This is Saturday, right? Oh crap. Private lesson at nine. Gotta do it. Gotta get up. Oh hell, where'd I put the Tylenol. Why can't I ever get the water right...before I step in the shower? + He drove down Red Mountain and to the employee lot by the airport, parked and walked over to the shuttle stop and leaned against the little shed. He took a deep breath, exhaled and watched as tendrils of vapor slipped past his lips – and drifted up into the air. + Ten degrees out. Too damn cold to be out here. Why do I keep doing this? I should've driven into town, parked by the Jerome. Oh good...here comes the bus. I'm tired. Tired, and my legs burn. + He went to the back of the bus, sat on the first row behind the rear door, by the window of course, because there was more legroom there. He stretched out, rubbed his thigh, closed his eyes when the bus lurched forward and slipped into traffic on 82. He opened one eye, looked at traffic and shut it again as the bus slowed for the stop just before Maroon Creek Road. + Oh, fuck. Not Shirley. Not today... Maybe if I keep my eyes closed she won't sit by me. Shit. She's looking right at me. Maybe if I snore she'll leave me alone. Oh, c'mon man, there are tons of vacant seats. Why me. I mean it, man, why the fuck me? C'mon, like I'm tired, and my legs are fucking killing me... + "Aaron? Mind if I sit here?" The bus took off and she fell into the seat – and on his left leg – as they went through the roundabout. "Hey! Mornin', Shirley. How're you doing? Heard you took a bad fall a while ago..." He grimaced, slid his leg out from under her. "Yeah, last run of the day, hit a rock just under the snow. You know how it goes." He looked at the brace on her knee. "ACL?" "Yup." "Been there, done that," he said. "Who did you?" "von Stade." He nodded. "I hear she's good." "What are you doing going in on a Saturday? Private lesson?" He nodded again. "Yeah. Family from Texas, I think." "Texicans. Joygasm," she said. "Guess it pays the electric bill, though." He smiled. "So, they got you working in the office?" "Cashier, over in Rentals." "Fun..." He saw the transportation center rolling into view and looked out the nearly frosted over window. "Still a lot of ice on the sidewalk. You better let me help you off..." "Thanks, Aaron..." The rear doors opened and he slid over her, helped her stand. He went down one step and held her hand as she stepped down first one stair, then the next. She looked down at the last small leap down to the sidewalk and he saw her eyes. He stepped closer, put his hands under her shoulders and lifted her up, then set her down gently on the sidewalk. She held on to him – tightly – as she looked up into his eyes. 'God, he still smells so good,' she said to herself, remembering those three weeks together with him. 'What? Five years ago...?' + God, those eyes... Still cute, still so cute... She's not going to let go... Okay, this is getting awkward... What do I say? C'mon, it doesn't have to be this hard, does it? Goddamn! Why'd she have to land on my leg? + "Come on. You'd better let me walk you over..." "That's okay, Aaron. I can make it." "It's on my way – you know I'm going right by there. Just take my arm..." She did, and she leaned in close...too close. 'I bet he still uses Polo...' she said to herself as she breathed him in again. She tightened her grip on his wrist when she felt herself slip, but he had her. She knew it, too. He was still so strong, so quick. She felt his arm around her, pulling her close, and she held on to the sensation. Falling. Falling. In his arms. I'm safe again. In his arms. He helped her up the steps to the Gondola Plaza and got her to the rental shop door: "Are you going to be alright?" "I think so. It's my first day back..." "Geesh...don't you know someone...?" No, of course she didn't. He split last summer, Aaron remembered, leaving her high and dry, broke and living in an employee dormitory. "Sorry. I heard about last summer." "Yeah? Well, that's the way the cookie does whatever it's supposed to do, right?" "You living at the Quad?" "Yeah. E4." "If you need a ride in, call me." Her head tilted a little to the right and she looked him in the eye. "Could you, tomorrow?" "Can you be out front at eight?" She held him in her eyes, then she nodded, smiled at the look in his eyes – and without really knowing why – she hugged him. + I'm going to be late if I don't get a move on... Why did I do that? It's those goddamn eyes! I could never resist those eyes! Thank God the Tylenol kicked in... I just might make it through the day... Damn, I can't get over those eyes... + He made it to the Ski School desk and got his assignment from Pepi Dalhammer, one of the assistant directors and a former olympian: "Looks like one Terry Russell and three teenagers. Level 2, maybe level 3. They're from Dallas, I think." "Hell, Pepi, they should be over at Buttermilk," he said, knowing that flat-footed flat-landers from Texas had no business on Aspen Mountain. Pepi shrugged. "Take 'em up the gondola and keep 'em up top on the blues." "Right. Thanks. I love you too." She smiled. "You're going to say that to me one time too many, then you're going to be in real trouble." "I wish," he said, and he hopped up over the counter and kissed her on the forehead. "Seeya later." "I wish," the 87 year old former ski racer whispered. He made his way down to the locker room, looking at the clock as he scrambled down the stairs. + Why does this place have to stink so bad? Damn. Boots are still damp inside. Gotta take 'em home tonight and really dry them. I said that yesterday, didn't I? Damn. Shit, that feels tight. Okay, get on you goddamn mother-fucker! Whoa...I'm leavin' the top buckles 'til I get up top... + He made it out to the ski school meeting corral and thumped his way over to the private lesson area; he saw about twenty people waiting and looked at his watch. 'Ten minutes early,' he thought. 'Might as well get this show on the road.' "TerryRussell?" he said, and a blond bombshell turned his way. He saw her face. His blood ran cold. + Terry Russell? That's not Terry Russell. That's Terry Caldwell. You know, that Terry Caldwell. From college Terry Caldwell. That's I haven't seen her in almost thirty years Terry Caldwell. Goddamn! She hasn't aged one goddamned bit. And she's wearing a one piece Bogner. Goddamn Texicans! Who else, but Terry Caldwell! + "Oh, are you our instructor?" Terry Caldwell Russell said. "Yup. My name's Aaron. Aaron Goodman, and you'll be with me today." He watched her eyes, watched recognition seep in, watched the blood run from her face, watched her skin grow pale as death filled the space between them. Again. "Oh," she managed to say. And: "Hello, Aaron." He looked at the kids clustered around her. "You guys ready to go?" he asked. Dull, unenthusiastic eyes, fake smiles – but the best teeth he'd seen in ages. You have no clue why you're here, do you? Well, you see, your father wants you out here with me so he can ski with his friends. Oh. This is day care for teenagers, just in case you were wondering. "Well, I guess we'd better get introductions out of the way, then you guys can tell me what you want to work on today." Terry stepped over, pulling the tallest with her: "This is Aaron," she said. "He's named after a dear friend of mine, from college." Aaron held out his hand, and the boy took it. "I guess I won't forget your name today!" "Guess not," the boy said. Not polite, no sarcasm though. Just dull, like he wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else than here. "Done much skiing, Aaron?" "A couple of times." "Making parallel turns yet?" He shrugged. "I think so." "This is Aaron's friend David. They're at St Mark's together." "David? Nice to meet you." They shook hands. "How about you? Parallel turns yet?" "I ran some gates at Angel Fire last year. NASTAR. Got a bronze, too." "Yeah? Cool beans! And who's this?" "This is Didi, my youngest," Terry said, "and she skied two weeks last winter, and did really well, too." "Hi, Didi. Any idea what you'd like to do today?" The girl, she looked 12, maybe 13 years old, looked at David, then back up at her instructor: "I'd like to run gates. That NASTAR thing. I really want to do that today." "Well, okay. Let's get up the mountain and see if we're ready for that..." He saw Didi whisper in her mother's ear, and she smiled. "No, he already knows how well I ski, Didi..." he heard her say, and he rubbed his thighs as he walked up the steps into the gondola building. They got into the ski school line and boarded immediately. "Kids, y'all ride up together," he heard her say. "I'll ride up with our instructor." + Oh fuck. Oh fuck. No no no no no... This is not good. This isn't happening. No. Why me. Why today. Oh fuck... + He slipped his skis into the rack by the door and stepped inside the little cabin, right behind Terry, and he sat down across from her as the door shut. With a lurch the gondola car began heading up the mountain, dangling forty feet above the slopes below, and he tried his best not to look at her... But she wasn't having any of it. She put her gloved hand on his knee. "Are you going to ignore me all day long?" "I could try," he said. "I guess." "You'll fail." "I know. How've you been?" She nodded her head, grinned. "We haven't seen each other in thirty years, and you ask me 'how I've been?'" "Well, I could say you're looking good, but then again, you always did." "Good old shallow, superficial Terry, eh?" "I didn't say that..." "You didn't have to, Aaron." He laughed, gently, but he laughed. "Gee. What an efficient way to have a conversation. I'll just sit here and you can say my lines for me. Saves time that way, don't you think?" She looked out the fogged-up plastic windows, but he could tell she was far, far away in that moment. Maybe as far away as he had been. +++++ He was unpacking his bags, putting clothes on hangers his mom had packed away in his footlocker, when a tall, blond headed guy walked in his dorm room. "You Goodman?" the guy asked. "Last time I looked," Aaron said. "And you are?" "Henry Larkin," he said. "I think we're roommates this year." And so it was. And so it began. His third year at Stanford. His continuing love affair with San Francisco. He'd decided to major in physics, take a minor in electrical engineering, but after meeting Henry Larkin there'd come a meeting of the minds, and it was decided that all either really cared about was skiing. Well, skiing – and girls. But not necessarily in that order. Still, being over-achievers came with certain practical limitations, namely a serial inability to do anything until their homework was done, but that only lasted until they discovered The Oasis. Back in the day, when you drove south on El Camino Real through Menlo Park headed towards Palo Alto, just before you came upon the Stanford campus you'd pass a run-down, white clapboard hole in the wall restaurant. If you blinked you'd miss it, because it was set back a little from the road and turned sideways just for good measure, and while there was a sign, of sorts, out front, this sign's most distinguishing characteristic was white paint – peeling white paint – with just two words hand painted on it: The Oasis. It was the kind of place that looked like it belonged to a biker gang, or at least the kind of place bikers hung out at. Until you went inside, anyway. Everything inside was pine. Pine stained a very dark brown, then coated with megatons of bright varnish, and an L-shaped squadron of booths lined two walls. Once you were inside, you realized these booths were kind of strange. Kind of magic, really. Because for a long time, perhaps from the very beginning of time, people had carved their names on the walls, on the tabletops, on the seats, and on any and every surface that could be carved. Okay, so no big deal, right? A bunch of names carved on walls, but that is how one October afternoon Aaron and Henry came to be sitting in The Oasis, reading legendary names carved on walls and tabletops – and staring at a table full of blonds across the small, dark room. Henry was a rich kid, too, quite unlike Aaron. There was a Jaguar XK-E in the parking lot – Henry's of course, as was the Rolex Submariner on his wrist. Henry always wore too tight Levis and starched, button down collared Oxford cloth shirts, always from Brooks Brothers and always white. And Bay Rum aftershave. Aaron would never forget the smell of Bay Rum after his one year with Larkin. And Henry met Terry that afternoon at The Oasis. When it started snowing at Tahoe that November, Aaron and Henry cut classes and raced up to Squaw Valley. Bliss, pure bliss. By Thanksgiving they'd already racked up ten snow days, and all was right with their world, and with five days off for the coming vacation break, Henry decided it was time to take Terry skiing. He rented a condo at Heavenly and five car loads roared off campus and across the Bay Bridge, tearing through the night bound for South Lake Tahoe. What followed was predictable enough. Hours on the slopes, of course, and Terry proved to be an excellent skier, almost as good as Henry – though nowhere near as good as Aaron, but she was a good sport nonetheless. After hours were spent in the hot tub, and Aaron remembered good times spent drinking rum and cokes and cheap fruit wine, cooking burgers, and of course, lots of America's favorite pastime. Sex. Henry spent hours behind closed doors with Terry, and Aaron spend hours on the other side of that door feeling jealous. He had a "crush" on her, he had ever since he first saw her, but soon he looked on helplessly as he watched just how poorly Henry treated her. He belittled her constantly, made fun of the way she dressed, the food she ordered when they went out together, the way she kept her hair... But what got Aaron was how she put up with it, but pretty soon he'd figured that out, too. Henry Larkin came from money, old money, and that's what Terry Caldwell had been programmed to want all her life. She'd found money now, and had no intention of letting go. No matter the price she had to pay, Henry Larkin was what she wanted – more than anything else in the world. But the funny thing about it all, he remembered, was the way she always came to him. To talk. To find a shoulder to cry on. When she just needed to someone to say nice things about her, Aaron was there. Always there. She was, he learned, a country club girl. Her father had a bunch of car dealerships in Kansas, her mother was Junior League, and she was the only child. Spoiled beyond belief, Terry was also smart as hell – academically speaking, anyway – and somehow she'd ended up at Stanford. Terry's mother was sure she'd find "just the right man" there, too, and so the hunt had begun. When Henry asked her to come home with him over the coming Christmas vacation she was elated, her future assured. He'd never seen her so happy. Yet when everyone returned from Christmas break that January, Aaron found a profound change had come over both Henry and Terry. He was sullen, withdrawn, and didn't want to talk about about her anymore; Terry was awkward and suddenly shy around him. Aaron focused on his studies and walked on the eggshells between them. Then one day Henry came to him. "I need you to do me a favor," Henry said carefully, his lips trembling. "Sure. Name it." "I need you to take Terry." "Take her?" Aaron said, confused. "To the doctor. I need you to take her to the doctor. I can't...I can't do it..." So Aaron went to Terry's dorm room, found her sitting on her bed, staring at a Monet poster on the wall. "Terry?" She turned and looked at him, sorrow in her eyes. "It figures," was all she said. "What's going on, Terry?" "Really? You haven't figured it out yet, Aaron? You, of all people?" "Figured what out?" "I'm pregnant, Aaron. I'm getting an abortion this afternoon. I was waiting for Henry. He was going to take me..." She seemed broken, set adrift on a sunless sea, and he didn't know anything else to do so he walked to her, sat beside her and put his arm around her. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. She leaned her head on his shoulder, took his hand. "Thank God you're here," she whispered. "I've always been here, Terry." He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "What do you want to do?" "We'd better go now." "Terry? Is this what you really want? You?" He remembered how she turned to him, the confusion he saw in her eyes. Tears forming, a forced smile. "Yes, of course," she said, but she was shaking her head. "Come on, let's go." He remembered the clinic most of all. Everyone looking at him. The eyes especially. Confusion. Suspicion. Everywhere he looked, desperate souls seeking desperate measures, an easy way out of the dead end street they found themselves on. "Why are we here, Terry?" "Because he says if I don't, it's all over. He thinks I did this on purpose..." But she couldn't see it. It already was over, and when 'it' was over and done with he carried her out to his car and got her up to the dorm room, and he lay beside her for hours while she cried. Henry never came. Never. And still, Terry just couldn't understand. A week later, a month. She never made the connection. But Aaron was there, always there. He went to classes, got her to her own classes, walked her back to the dorm and stayed with her. He helped her with homework, went with her to meals – just to make sure she ate something, anything – and when she fell down he was there. He was always there, and by the time summer came around she was almost strong enough to stand up to life on her own. He packed his footlocker, avoided looking at Henry Larkin on the last day of the term, then that was it. Everything was over. Larkin didn't return the next year; he transferred to a school closer to home after his grades tanked, and Aaron never saw him again. Terry went home and she wrote to him almost daily for a few weeks, then the letters stopped, and she too didn't return in the Fall. He graduated that next year, then went on to graduate school at MIT before moving out to Seattle. He lived and worked there for almost twenty years, before he'd had enough of life in the fast lane. He dreamed of skiing, of living in the mountains. Of maybe dropping out for good, just skiing. He sold out, invested his money and talked with an architect whose work he admired, and they flew to Aspen and looked for land. He bought a pickup truck and put a camper on the back and drove around the West, skiing where there was snow, taking photographs when the flowers bloomed, while his house was being built. Somewhere along the way he found a mangy white puppy abandoned near an Indian reservation in Montana and he picked her up, named her Terry and they rode around together while he built her health back up. When the house was finished they moved in together, and she slept by his side, licking his ears, loving him, and they were both happy. Still, after two years of driving and skiing he felt as good as he ever had, and he joined the ski school at Aspen Mountain that next winter. And life was almost good. +++++ The gondola car crossed a pylon and it jumped and swayed in sudden sunlight, and she looked at him, that same sad smile in her eyes. Roundabout 01 "So, what have you been doing?" she asked. "Skiing?" "A lot, yes." "I lost track of Henry," she said, looking away. "I did too, but I heard he died last year. AIDs, I think." "I'm sorry. You were such good friends." "I didn't really know him all that well. I guess we never do know people, though." "Until it's too late," she added. "Life is the sum total of the choices we make, Terry, or so I've been told. Are you happy, at least?" Those same eyes tearing up, that sad, forced smile, the frantic, evasive nodding. "Yes, of course I am." He's rich, too, he didn't have to say. "I'm glad." He looked ahead at the gondola building and all the early morning powder hounds putting on their skis. "Well, we're here," he said as the car slowed, then entered the building. The door opened and he slid out, then he turned and helped Terry out of the little cabin. He grabbed both their skis and she took their poles, just like she always had at Tahoe, and they all walked out onto the flats just outside and put on their skis. "Okay. I'm going to ski down to that trail sign. The one that says 'Copper' – and I'm going to wait there. One at a time, you each ski down to me so I can get an idea of what we need to work on today." He poled off across the flats then made four easy turns down to the sign, then turned and waved. Of course, Terry poled off immediately and skied down gracefully to his side. "I see some things never change," he said while he smiled at her. "No, I guess they don't." Didi took off next, and she made a few wedge turns before making two nice linked parallel turns. "Not bad," he said, "for your first turns of the year!" He 'high-fived' her and the girl beamed. David came next and it was apparent he'd skied a lot, then Aaron came last and he had a lot of trouble. He seemed angry, bored and preoccupied with something not up here on the mountain. "Terry? Ski down a hundred yards and stop." Terry poled off and skied down the slope and stopped after a few moments. "David? Go ahead." "Didi?" he said as he poled over to her. "I want you to concentrate on making your pole plant sthis time. Now, go ahead." She left and he watched her, then he turned to Aaron. "So, where are you?" "Excuse me?" the kid said. "You look like you're someplace else, or you want to be someplace else, anyplace but up here." The kid looked away. "You a ski instructor, or a shrink?" "Funny, but I never saw a whole lot of difference between the two." The kid laughed. "You have a lot of experience with shrinks, huh?" "No, not really. I screwed one, once, if that counts." The kid looked at him. "Yeah? Bet that was fun." "Skiing's fun. You want to ski today, or shoot the shit down in the lodge?" "Ski, I guess." "Alright, take off, and this time show me what you can do. I'll be right behind you..." The kid took off, made a nice series of linked turns and stopped by his mother. "Okay. Didi? When you unweight and start your turn, drive that new downhill knee down and in just a little, like this," Aaron said as he demonstrated what he was talking about. "David?" "Sir?" "Uh, whoa there. No sirs up here, guys. I'm Aaron, okay. You say 'sir' and I start looking for the Marines." The kids laughed, just what he needed from them right now. "Now David...I want you to repeat after me: you look where you go." "You look where you go." "Alright, for the rest of the day I want you to remember that. You're looking down a lot, right in front of you, and if you look down you're going to go down. I want your head up, always looking downhill, looking where you want to start your next turn..." "Aaron?" "Aaron?" "I want you to stay on my ass. Keep your eyes on the angle of my downhill ski and where I keep my hands during turns, and you do the exact same thing. Bend at the knees, absorb the ruts. Okay?" They took off, skied down another few hundred yards; again he coached and critiqued them, adding skills, pointing out mistakes, always building them up, keeping them focused, and they kept at it all the way down to the Gent's Ridge lift, then they paired off and rode up together. "Didi, you're with me this trip." They loaded up and rode up, the girl swinging her skis back and forth, obviously happy to be up here on the mountain. "So," Aaron asked, "what's with NASTAR?" "I think Lindsey Vonn is the coolest." "Yeah? Me too," he said, chuckling. "What's with your brother?" She frowned. "Dad." "Oh?" "He promised to ski with us, but he's off with friends today. Something to do with his company." "Does that happen a lot?" "Yeah, I guess so." "So, have you raced NASTAR before?" "Nope, but it looks fun..." "It is fun! They open at 10:30, so we'll make a few more runs, then head over there. Sound good?" "You betcha!" "Okay, watch your poles...let's get off...about...now!" They slid down the ramp and the five of them gathered round. "Okay, it's follow the leader time. Terry? You're going to lead off, and you're all going to follow her. After a while, we'll switch and Didi will take the lead, then David, then Aaron. I'm going down the hill a little, and I'll watch from there." He poled away and skied a few hundred yards down the hill... "What did you two talk about," Terry asked Didi. "NASTAR, mostly. When it opens, that kind of stuff. Okay Mom, he's waving..." Terry took off and the next hour passed quickly, then he rode up with her after their third run of the morning. "You up for NASTAR this morning?" "Sure," she said, "it might be fun." "Okay, we should grab some fluid, then we'll head down." "Didi has a crush on you, I think," Terry said, grinning. "I can't blame her, really. You still look like you're about twenty years old." "Hah. You should feel my thighs. They never burned like this when I was twenty..." He looked down, saw her hand on his left thigh, and she squeezed it while she looked at him. "Feels hard," she said. "Are you always this hard?" "Heard from your husband?" "Yes, he's going to try to meet us for lunch." Her hand moved up higher and he looked at her. "This isn't the time, Terry." "Do you think there's still time for us?" He smiled, looked away. "We had our chance, once upon a time. It didn't happen, and maybe that's best." "Maybe." "What happened, after you left Palo Alto?" She looked away, her hand on his thigh grew still. "My mother happened, I guess you could say. I told her all about it, everything that happened. My parents put me in a hospital." "A hospital?" "Mental," she said. "For having an abortion?" "I was..." "You were doing okay when you left..." "Mother thought it best, and that was that." "I see." He looked at her, at the fine lines of her face, that beautiful skin. Time had been kind to her. "So, what's the real story. With you and your husband?" "He's with his secretary, I assume. She came with us. She always comes with us. She baby-sits when we go out, then he takes her home. Sometimes it takes him hours and hours before he gets back too. Imagine that." "It happens." "I never thought it would happen to me." "What about you?" "What about me? I'm the cliché, Aaron. The middle-aged housewife, the once upon a time arm candy, now being replaced by the latest model..." "Not what I meant." "Oh, am I the faithful, clueless wife? Do I fuck around? Is that what you mean, Aaron?" "Sorry I asked." "Why? I am, you know. Faithfulness is the best strategy, legally, you know." "I always thought love was the best way..." "Love? You've got to be kidding me! I have never once believed in love. Never." "Never? You never loved me? Not even just a little?" "Oh, I always loved you, Aaron, but you were different." "Different?" "You were never marriage material. Not by mother's standards, anyway." "That sounds mercenary, Terry. Not like the girl I knew." "You didn't know me, Aaron, you just wanted someone to rescue. That's who you were." "Gee. I never knew." She laughed. "And if you hadn't been there, Aaron, I'd have died." "No you..." She was taking off her gloves, pulling up her sleeves, then pointing at scars on her wrists. "That's why I went to the hospital, Aaron." "I still don't get it, Terry. When you left you were so much better. Are you saying your mother torqued your head, and you ended up doing this?" "Maybe it was as simple as that." "But aren't you saying you've ended up being just like your mother? That just doesn't make any sense, Terry." "We are what we are, Aaron. Nature, nurture, who cares?" "So, you're a clone? Your mother's view of the world, round two? You had no say in the matter? Is that what you really mean?" "I never felt like I had a choice. I tried the rebellion thing, you know, in high school, but anyone with a brain can see that leads nowhere fast. Like drugs and blowjobs are the best way to go. Really?! Women can't make it to the top, and you know that as well as I do. So you marry money. It's not selfish, it's not narcissism, it's just pure Darwin, Aaron. It's Hobbes, the whole nasty, brutish and short thing. You marry money to provide the best possible outcomes for your children. Love and happiness don't mean anything in that world, Aaron, because money is happiness. Besides, when you have money you can buy all the love you need." He looked at her, then looked away, towards Highlands and Snowmass and at the snow and the trees that defined his life. "I guess you found your way home, Terry," he said as they came to the top of the lift. He lifted the gate and with poles in hand slid off the seat onto the ramp, and she slid to a stop next to him, looking ahead at her children. "Let's take a break, get something to drink," he said to the kids, and they all poled over to the Sundeck. "See you back out here in ten minutes." He took his skis off and went to the ski school shack and checked his messages while he slammed down a bottle of water, then he walked back to the deck outside the restaurant and put his skis on – and waited. Twenty minutes later Didi came out, a deep frown etched on her face. "Mom and Aaron are fighting again," she said, pouting. "They always ruin everything." "Some days are better than others, huh?" "Not around our house," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, we'll give 'em a few minutes, then you and I will go run some gates." She looked up at him and grinned. "Could we?" "Sure, kid." "Mom said she knew you in college." "Yup, that's true, we were friends one year. She was a good friend, as a matter of fact." "Oops, here they come." "Better get your skis on, Didi." Aaron walked over, red-faced and fuming while he put on his skis, and his friend David looked like he'd just realized what a big mistake he'd made coming on vacation with his friend. Terry was oblivious, her face an impenetrable mask as she walked up. "Tom asked if he could join us for lunch," she said. "Will we be eating up here?" Aaron nodded. "It works out well, saves time, if he wouldn't mind." She pulled out her phone and sent a text, then got her skis on. "Okay, we're taking Bellissimo again, right to the starting area for the course, and we're going to sign you up. Then we'll walk the course, check out the gates, and run over some strategies. Follow me!" He poled off and built up speed, let his skis run down the slope a little faster than they had so far this morning, and he saw they were just keeping up so he slowed a little, then pulled up to the starting area and talked to the attendant: "Four of 'em this morning." The boy handed over four clipboards and Aaron handed them out as Terry and her kids arrived, red faced and out of breath. When they were through he took them down beside the course and pointed out how to run the course: red-blue-red-blue all the way down. "Now, where do you start your turn?" he asked them. "You ski up to the gate and turn!" Didi said. "Ah, well Didi, if you do that you'll never make the next gate, so what we do is start our turn when we're about halfway to the gate, and the next one when we're about halfway to it, and so on. Now David, remember talking about looking where you go? Well, we're going to modify that a little. As you approach one gate, I want you to look through the gate, by that I mean all the way through the turn to the next gate, so all the way down the course you're going to be looking at least one gate ahead. Got it?" They side-slipped down the course and he pointed out where they should look when they were here, where they should look when they got there, all the way down the hill, then they skied down to the lift and went back to the top and he skied back down to the starting area even faster than before. Terry was almost gasping now, and both David and Aaron were panting. Only Didi seemed unfazed and he smiled at her. "I want to go against you," she said, and he laughed. "Nope, I'm not getting in the middle of this," he laughed. "Y'all decide who races against each other," he said as he shook the snow off his skis. "I'll help you get set up in the starting gate!" Terry chose David, leaving Didi and her brother Aaron to slug it out in round one, and Terry skied over to the gate and got set. David had done this before so went and got set on his own, then the starting attendant went to his timing console and reset the clocks. Terry and David got in the chutes, arms over the timing wand. "Racers take your mark!" The countdown timer beeped, then: "Three-two-one-START!" Terry took an immediate lead, but Davis skied a steadier pace and halfway down the course Terry skied wide and blew a gate. Both Aarons laughed when they heard her profanity all the way up the hill. "Okay guys, you see how that was done, right? Get your skis lined up in the chute, with your poles outside the wand. When you here the countdown at "three", bend down at the knees a little, and on "Start!" I want you to spring up over your poles and skate down the ramp for the first gate. Remember, look at the next gate before the one you're about to take...keep looking down the hill. Okay, get in the chute, and look at Mark there when you're ready to go." Didi poled into the chute, her brother had a little trouble and appeared nervous, then they both said they were ready. "Racers take your mark!" The countdown timer began beeping again, then: "Three-two-one-START!" Didi blew out of the starting gate like she'd been hit with a cattle prod and ran through the gates without any trouble; her brother fell at the third gate and Aaron helped him up, then they skied down together. Didi placed well enough for a silver medal, David a bronze, and both Terry and Aaron were jazzed up, wanted another go at the course. The group skied down to the lift and rode back up to the top, and the two Aarons rode together this time. "You looked a little nervous in the starting gate. What was going on in your mind?" "I was mad at Mom, and I couldn't concentrate on anything." "You wanna stop, or try again?" "I want to beat her ass!" "What did she do to get you so riled up?" "She keeps defending Dad. He promised he'd come up today but says he has business to take care of. Ha! The only business he's taking care of is between June's legs!" "June?" "His secretary." "Do you think your Mom knows what's going on?" "Sure she does..." "Well then, you probably ought to let her handle this. You just concentrate on those gates, because I guarantee you, when you get back home all those problems will still be there with you, while these gates will still be up here." The boy nodded. "I see your point." "Enjoy yourself when you get up here. Take a deep breath, look around, try to appreciate just how lucky you are to be here. Your parents will figure it out. Don't let them spoil your trip up here." "Mom says she knew you in college. Were you close?" He looked at the boy. "Friends, yes. She was my roommates girlfriend. We took some ski trips together, that sort of thing." "So, y'all never did it?" Aaron laughed. "No, we sure didn't, but it wasn't because I didn't want to." "David's got the hots for her. I think he's sick." "Ever seen The Graduate?" "That a movie?" "Yeah. You should check it out sometime. Watch it with David if you wanna see him squirm." They both laughed, and he wondered when the kid would get the joke. "Okay, let's get off..." They skied back down to the starting gate, Terry itching for a rematch, but Aaron had other plans. "Terry, you're racing your son. David, you're going solo this trip, while Didi and I are going head to head." "Awright!" Didi screamed, high-fiving her mom. "And we're going first, Ace, so get in the gate and get ready to get your butt whupped!" She looked at him and smiled, pointed at him and said "Your ass is mine!" Terry looked startled, then laughed as she stood behind Didi and started cheering. "Racers take your mark!" The countdown timer was beeping before Aaron got settled in, then the final countdown: "Three-two-one-START!" Didi blew out of the starting gate and was scorching down the course; Aaron got right on her tail on the parallel course and paced her, let her take him by a few feet and she was ecstatic, bouncing around pumping her fists. She came over and hugged him, took her gold medal and continued whooping and hollering. "Okay, here come your mom and Aaron. Let's watch!" They could hear the countdown timer beeping, then Terry and her son were on the course, and it was a close race all the way down, but Aaron crossed the line just ahead of his mom and he too went wild, jumping, fist pumping and yelling, and they both did well enough for a silver medal. David came next, racing the clock and doing well enough for a gold this time and everyone was beside themselves, pinning each others medals on and high-fiving all the while... "So?" Aaron asked. "One more race before lunch?" "Hell yeah," Terry said, "and this time, your ass is grass!" She was pointing at Aaron, fire in her eyes. "You're on!" he said, and they rode up together in the chairlift again. "This is turning out so much better than I hoped," she said, smiling, wrapping her arm in his. "Nothing better than time out here to refocus your life." "That's what you did before, you know. I wonder what would've happened if I'd stayed out there that summer with you?" "In my dreams, yeah, that's what happened. We would've been married right after graduation, those would be my kids, and we would've lived happily ever after..." He looked over at her, saw she was staring at him, wide-eyed, almost crying. "You never told me how you felt, Aaron. Why not?" "I always thought actions speak louder than words. My mistake." She laughed at that. "You know, over the years when I think about love I think of you. That's why I named Aaron after you. Think I should tell him?" she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Maybe when you get home," he chuckled. "Who knows? Might do him some good." "It's been a miracle running into you." "Has it?" "Yes, I'd lost track of all those feelings. Stanford, all those ski trips." "It was fun, while it lasted anyway." "I enjoyed my time with you most of all, you know. Henry was such an evil shit, and you, his exact opposite. You were always there." "It was love at first sight, Terry. Naïve, maybe, but that's what it was." "Okay, time to get your ass waxed..." He smiled as they got off the lift. "You head on down, I'll bring up the rear..." He watched her pole off and head down the run, and watching her was like watching a memory come back to life, a diamond with so many flaws – yet they were meaningless compared to the beauty of her time in his life. Roundabout 01 Didi came to a stop next to him and she took his hand, looked up at him. "This has been the coolest day ever!" "Has it? Well, good, I'm glad you're having a good time." "You still like my mom, don't you?" "What makes you say that?" "The way you're looking at her, I guess." "I guess I always will, Didi. We were together during a very special part of our lives." "She likes you too. I can tell." "Well, I hope so. I hope we can all be friends." "Me too." David and Aaron skied up, and he told them to lead the way, then he took off after Didi, watching her ski, thinking about all that had just been said. "What a day," he said as he approached the starting area. She was standing there, looking at him with those eyes he remembered so well. "So, one more race to run, Aaron. Are you ready?" (C)2016 Adrian Leverkühn | ABW Roundabout 02 Aaron stood in the lift line beside Terry; David and her son just ahead and Didi was already on the lift, heading up mountain. A line of clouds was moving in, the sun fading fast as the first wispy tendrils came to the mountain. Moments later they were in their chair, pulling the safety bar over and resting their skis when snow started falling. Slowly at first, but seconds later a gust hit and visibility dropped to near zero. "Why'd you let me win," Terry said, as the fresh gust tore into the chair, causing it to swing. "What makes you think I did?" Aaron said. She laughed. A knowing laugh, full of history. "Did your husband text you back? Is he coming up?" Terry pulled her phone out of her jacket and looked at it. "He's there, has a table already," she said, wiping snow from the screen before slipping it back inside the pocket. "What's his name, by the way?" "Tom. He's CFO for an oil well servicing company." "Whoa, bet they're hurting right now." "He's under a lot of pressure – and he's been very unhappy for months." "I bet. Is he a skier?" "Tom? Lord, no. You'll understand when you see him." "The rest of the day could be like this...you think you'll want to keep going?" "God, yes. The kids are having a blast." "And you?" She looked at him, pulled up her goggles and kissed him. Hard, on the lips, then he felt her tongue and he opened to her. A minute later she pulled away... "Does that answer your question?" she said, pulling her goggles down, smiling at his reaction. "Not really, but it'll do." She laughed again. "You're impossible!" He looked at her silhouette again, studying the passage of time. He could remember sitting by her on dozens of chairlifts that long ago year, watching her just like he was now. Snow on her blond hair – wispy fingers dancing in the wind, her collar turned up against the chill. How he used to watch her thighs as she swung her skis back and forth, and her mouth when she put lip balm on. He could even remember the smell...menthol on snow as her breath formed in the air and washed across his face. "You made life seem possible to me, Terry." "Where'd that come from?" "It's good to see you again. That's all." "It is, isn't it?" "Okay, ready to lift the bar?" "Sure, have at it," she said, grinning again. 'Why do I feel like a teenager again,' he said to himself as the loading ramp appeared. Didi and her brother were waiting, David was already poling for the restaurant when Terry slid to a stop by her kids. "What's with David?" she asked. "Too much Gatorade, I think," her son said. "Ah," Aaron said, "that'll do it every time. Well, let's get out of this snow..." They skated over to the lodge and got their skis racked-up then went inside, happy to bask in the sudden warmth. "There's Tom, over there," Terry said, pointing. He was sitting by a large window, his back to them, apparently watching the snow as they walked through the restaurant to his table, and Terry got there first, kissed him on the cheek. Aaron watched him stand, all five foot five and three hundred pounds of him, and he knew what Terry meant about him not skiing. He looked like he had a sixty inch waist, minimum, and his skin was pasty white, like his hair. Didi ran up and hugged him, his son ignored him, and Aaron came up as Tom turned around and faced him. "You must be the Aaron I've been hearing about all morning," Tom said. "Oh?" he said, but he was looking at the man's lips and fingernails. They were blue, too blue. Tom held up his iPhone. "The wonders of modern technology. I've been getting the play by play direct, as it happens..." He swayed, looked unsteady on his feet and reached for the chair as he sat back. Aaron went to his side, checked his pulse and felt both the man's carotid arteries, then walked quickly from the table... "Honey, are you alright...?" he heard Terry saying... He went to a room down the hall and took out his keys and unlocked the door. Once inside he flipped on the light and grabbed a rolling oxygen tank, then went back to the table. He slipped the mask over Tom's face, turned the valve and set the flow. People were looking at the commotion, but Aaron watched Tom's face and hands. Some color came back, but too slow, he thought. He checked the carotids again: left strong, right almost absent, and he went up to the front desk and told the attendant to get a helicopter up for a medevac, then he called the ski patrol desk, told them what was up and asked them to send a paramedic over. He returned to the table... "Where's it hurt, Tom?" he asked when he saw the man's face. It was even whiter now, and he was sweating profusely. Tom pointed at his right arm, then his jaw. David returned to the table, asked what was going on, then he saw the mask on Tom's face and grew quiet. Two paramedics came in, one carrying a crash box, and Aaron turned to Terry. "I'll get your skis down on the Gondola," he whispered in her ear. "I've called for a helicopter; if they have room you should ride down with them." She was trembling, but she heard what he said. "It's okay," he heard her say – faintly, "I know it's okay...you're still here with me, aren't you?" He didn't know if she was talking to him or to Tom, then she looked at him – and he saw her as she was in the hospital – that faraway day – and the present lurched out of view. He shook himself back into the present, upset with himself for fading away like that... "I'll bring the kids down," he said, "and we'll see you at the hospital..." He heard the helicopter overhead a minute later, looked out and saw the storm had cleared somewhat, then ushered the kids out of the dining room while the paramedics got Tom ready for transport. "Okay, guys, as soon as your dad's on his way, we're going to ride the gondola back down to town, then I'll get you over to the hospital." Didi and Aaron looked pale now, almost in shock, but David was with them, and he had a handle on things; a few minutes later Tom rolled by on a gurney, Terry right behind him, and he watched them load up and lift off. "Okay, let's go," he said, and they went out, grabbed their skis and walked over to the gondola building. "I'm scared," Didi said, breaking down, letting go; Aaron put his arm around her and held her close, stroked her hair; her brother sat ashen and alone, and when he looked down he saw David holding his friend's hand. He saw the town laid out down below through a gauzy veil of clouds; he pulled out his phone, called the ski school desk, told them they were five minutes out. While he put his phone away he held onto Didi, and he watched impatiently as the gondola drifted slowly down the mountain. Pepi was waiting for them when they got out of the gondola car, and she ushered them through a back corridor and down an 'employees only' stairway to a waiting Suburban; soon they were easing through traffic to Main, then out to the roundabout at Maroon Creek; moments later they pulled up to the ER entrance, and Aaron noted the helicopter that had carried Tom and Terry was still on the pad. She was in the ER lounge, waiting quietly, stoically, and her children piled in protectively and they held each other. He looked at them, the three of them together and he smiled at his feelings earlier that day – hers too – then he went outside and rode back into town. Their skis were already locked up in the ski school office, so he carried his down to the locker room and peeled off his ski boots. His phone chirped and he pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the screen. It was Shirley from the rental shop, a text, and he was surprised she had his number. She was getting off at four, she wrote, and would he mind riding back out with her, help her on and off the bus again. He looked at his watch, almost three-thirty, so he texted her back: "Sure, I'll swing by in a few...", and he was about to put his phone away when a call came in, from the hospital. "Hello," he said. "Aaron, it's me." "How is he?" "Why'd you leave us?" "Why? Well, let's see, do we really need to go there, Terry?" She was quiet for a moment, then: "Why are you always there for me, Aaron? When things get really bad, there you are. Can you tell me why?" "Well, maybe it's like you said. Maybe I'm just there to rescue you..." "You know, the doctor said if you hadn't done what you did we might have lost Tom..." "Well, there you go. I'm an equal opportunity rescuer." She laughed. "I didn't realize how much I loved you back then, Aaron. Until today. I know this sounds crazy, but I'm not sure I ever stopped loving you after all that." It was his turn to laugh. "Don't worry about it, Terry. You'll get over it. You always do." He sighed, hoped he hadn't hurt her, but suddenly he knew he was hurting. "So, what are the plans? For Tom, I mean?" "A jet's on the way up now. We're going down to Houston, to Texas Heart. I think they're talking about surgery in the morning, but I don't know." "I hope you'll let me know when he's out, and how you and the kids are doing." "You know I will." "So, you have my number?" "I do." "Well, I should let you go..." "Aaron? This thing between us, whatever it is, it isn't over yet. Do you hear me?" "I hear you. You have a lot to do now, Terry. Take care of those kids, and tell Didi she's been challenged to a rematch." She laughed. "I will. She'll be thrilled." "Okay, Terry. Bye." "Aaron, I love you." "I guess you know how I feel. Take care." He quickly hit the 'End' button and slipped the phone into his pocket, then looked at his watch. He sighed, walked upstairs and over to the rental shop and went in, found Shirley sitting on a chair rubbing her thigh, working on the straps of her knee brace. "Looks like you've had a rough one," he said as he came over to her. "The leg, or the brace?" "I just can't get it right," she said, and he could tell she was in pain. He knelt down, felt the straps. "Better let me. They're all twisted up." He flattened the straps, smoothed out the wrinkles in her pants and gently cinched-in the velcro straps. "That better?" She sighed: "Oh, heavens yes! What'd you do?" "I'll show you. You ready to roll?" "Yeah. You know, I was going to ask you...could I cook dinner tonight? I make a mean spaghetti carbonara." "The last thing you need to be doing is standing on that leg," he said as he helped her up. He took her arm and helped her to the door, but he could feel her uncertainty now. She felt rejected, alone again. He helped her down the stairs, held her arm all the way to the transportation center, and into the shuttle. They rode in silence through the roundabout, and when they came to her stop he told her to keep seated – and she looked at him, the question in her eyes filling the space between them. When they pulled into the employee lot, he stood and helped her down the stairs, then over to his car. "I've got to go feed my pup," he said. "Maybe you can hang with me a while?" He looked at her and smiled. "You've never seen my house, have you?" "No. Last I heard, you were still living in that camper. Did you find a house?" "Yeah. I found one." He opened her door, helped her climb up into the seat, then he came around and got behind the wheel. "What kind of truck is this?" she asked. "Toyota. A '66 FJ." "It looks brand new." "I found it two summers ago, a rusted-out hulk. Rebuilt it last summer." "You did the work yourself?" "Yes," he chuckled. "That was the whole point." He grinned while he started the engine: it stumbled for a second, then smoothed out when he gave it some throttle. He looked at her while the engine idled, and when the engine was warm he backed out and hit 82, and they rode in silence back into town. "You live in town?" she asked at one point, incredulous. "Yup." He turned on North Mill, then again on Red Mountain, and he drove up hill to Wright Road and turned once again, then made a hard turn into an almost impossible to see entrance and down a little corkscrew driveway. The house was small, at least it looked small from the street, but the design was deliberately elusive from the road, like the house was hiding something from view, perhaps saving the best for last. He pulled into the garage and closed the overhead door, then helped her out and into the entry area. Her eyes were saucer-like, wide and stunned as she looked around. "This is your place? You, like, renting or house-sitting or something?" He laughed. "Here, let me take your coat." He hung it in a closet and got her to a chair in the living room, and her eyes went to the windows, and to Aspen Mountain across the valley, then she looked at him again – like she didn't know who he was. "I've got to get Terry," he said. "Oh, you still have her? The white dog?" "Yup. She's the love of my life, ya know!" he said as he walked back to the little kennel, and he came back with her a few minutes later, carrying the pup in his arms while she licked his neck and chin. "I remember her white eyelashes, and how much she enjoyed hopping around in your camper," she said. "She's still a love-puppy, I see!" "Yup, that she is." He put her down and the pup ran over to Shirley and hopped into her lap, then proceeded to lick her senseless. "This looks like a Wright house, Aaron. It's stunning." "I guess in a way it is. A protégé, a student of his drew it for me." "Jesus." "Not hardly. Well, the choices are steak, salmon, and MacDonald's. What'll it be?" "I thought I was going to cook for you?" He shrugged. "I don't like to be away too long," he said, looking at Terry. "Besides, you really shouldn't be on that leg so much. Not yet." "I don't know then. Whatever you feel like's fine with me..." "Steak it is, then." He went out on the flagstone patio and put charcoal on the grill, then came in and unwrapped some steaks. He watched the fire, sautéed spinach with garlic and white wine, then set up a quick sauce for the steak with red currants, brandy and peppercorns. He put the steaks on the fire, set a timer on his wrist, then went to the bank of Sub-Zeros and pulled out a couple of brews. He poured two glasses, turned the spinach and sprinkled Romano and pine nuts on top, then covered the pan and dashed out to turn the steaks, ladling his currant sauce on top before he dashed back in and topped off the glasses of beer. "This is incredible," she said, watching Aaron move around the house. "It's like you're moving around at light-speed all the time..." Moments later he set plates on the dining room table and helped her over, then he sat beside her and took a deep breath. "Well, that was fun!" he said as he cut into his steak. Terry jumped up in the chair next to his and he gave her the first few bites he cut off, then he looked at Shirley. She was staring at him, more than a little perplexed. "Something happened today, didn't it?" "What? Me?" "Yes, you. What happened today?" "Nothing much." "Uh-huh." She shivered, pulled her sweater tight; he was up in a flash and went to the fireplace, lit a fire. They finished dinner and he cleared the plates, did the dishes then helped her back to the living room, and she continued to look at him, feeling her way carefully through his fleeting moods. She saw him as almost fundamentally depressed one moment, lonely, compensating for his loneliness with almost hyperactive bursts of activity, yet always focused beyond his own needs and desires, then the next he seemed almost empathetic beyond belief, reaching outside of himself, compassion his most defining characteristic, but there was something cloying about this too. Almost like he was overcompensating for... "Would you like something to drink," he asked. "Brandy, Cointreau, something like that?" "I don't know, my knee's really throbbing..." "Ah, well then, the hot tub beckons. Come on..." "Aaron, I don't have a suit..." "I've got big towels," he said matter of factly, "and I'll leave you to it." "You would?" He looked at her, not sure what she meant. "What?" "You'd leave me there, alone?" "I assumed you wanted privacy." "Did you?" She didn't know what to do, what to say. She'd been putting out signals all day; was he just shy? But that just didn't make any sense at all...they had, after all, been intimate before...for almost three weeks – even though that had been years ago. She was caught between a desire to seduce him – and to just simply flee, to get as far away from him as she could. "Well, where are the towels?" "Follow me," he said, and he led her to a little Japanese bath down the hall. "Shower here, then out that door," he said, pointing. "Do you want me to join you?" "No. I want you to stand...right here," she said, pointing to the middle of the room, "and help me with my brace." She sat, and he bent to undo the straps, and she watched him, wondering. When he was finished, she stood, and he did too – but she stopped him. "Stay right there," she said, but he stood. "I'm not wired that way, Shirley, sorry." She shrugged, that question answered. "Could you help me out of my clothes, please?" "Sure." He took her clothing and folded it neatly, then grabbed a towel and wrapped her loosely in it, then took her hand and led her outside to the tub. There was an opening in roof just above, and a few flakes were drifting down onto a small redwood deck, and he went to a console on the wall and flipped a switch. The deck retracted into an adjacent wall, leaving a black slate pool lit a deep blue, then he flipped another switch and the water came alive. She let the towel slip and stood there facing him, then she kissed him, and he held her, met her kiss on his terms, then he helped her into the water; she slipped from his grasp and drifted to a corner, looking at him. He flipped off his shoes then, fully clothed, walked into the tub and went to her. He fell to her side and pulled her close, and all the cares of the day seemed to split open for just a moment, and the little boy looked around carefully, then came out to play. + She's pretty there, on the sheets. Like a lily, loose and all flowing whiteness... I like her freckles, her hair all fine and wild red... She's cute when she sleeps, the way Terry curls up by her side... Why did we fall apart? What went wrong? Was it me? Such a strange night. So crazy and intense. So comfortable...no...so comforting... So many colors. So many emotions. She's so complex, yet so easy to understand. She comes to love so easily...why can't I? + He woke just before six, just before the alarm went off, and he went to the bathroom and showered, then on to the kitchen. He pulled out the Vita-mix and threw in some kale and spinach and an avocado, then some big chunks of pineapple and ice. He blended the mixture, poured two glasses and went back to the bedroom. She was still sleeping, so he leaned over and kissed her cheek, then ran his tongue lightly along an eyelash and she giggled, then opened her eyes. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him close; he could still taste his seed on her breath and he smiled at the memory. "I have another private lesson this morning," he said. "Why don't you shower and I'll take you home to get a change, then..." "Then what, Aaron? Pick me up tonight? Take me home again? Do it all over again tomorrow?" He shook his head. "What?" She looked away. "I don't know how you do it, Aaron. This wall you've built around your heart. You give and you give and you never feel. You never let anyone give anything back, and every time you give your wall gets bigger and stronger." He looked away, looked out the window at the mountain, at where Terry was yesterday, at where he let go of the dream a second time. Roundabout 02 "Aaron? Are you afraid to fall in love? Is that it? Is that why you give and give and give? Is that why your wall is so strong?" He turned back to her, looked at her eyes, and he nodded his head. "Yes," he said. "That's right. That's exactly right." "Will you let me in?" "I could try, Shirley, but I don't want to hurt you." "So don't. Let me in, let love in." "Is that what you want?" "It doesn't matter what I want right now, Aaron. It's what you want." He leaned in and kissed her again. "Alright. Could we go slow? Take it slow for a few days, see where this takes us?" She looked at him, at the ever growing wall around his heart. "Sure, Aaron. That's what we'll do. Take it slow." She went to the shower and washed off, then put on her old clothes. "Smoothie?" he said, handing her the glass, and she took it, sipped it tentatively before she drank it down. "Not bad," she said. "Ready?" "Sure." They drove over to the employee quads and he helped her in. "I'll wait for you. Out in the truck," he said, then she looked at him. "That's alright. You go on." "You sure?" "Yeah, Aaron, I'm sure. Seeya later." "Okay," he said, nodding his head, not understanding anything, least of all women. "Later." He parked in the employee lot by the airport again, rode the shuttle into town and walked up to Pepi at the ski school desk. "I still have their skis here," she said, "that private lesson from yesterday. Did she tell you what to do with them?" "I'll take them this afternoon," he said. "What do I have today?" "Oh, you're gonna have fun today," she said, handing him the reservation form with the client's name on it. "Wow. I used to love her movies..." "She asked for you, you know. You have a reputation, I guess." "Do I?" He looked at his watch, then at his phone. A call from Houston. He hit the call back button. "Texas Heart Institute. How may I direct your call?" "Sorry, I think a Terry Russell called me from this number..." "Just a moment, please..." The phone went silent, then began ringing again. "Surgery waiting?" "Terry Russell, please. Aaron Goodman calling." "Just a moment..." "Aaron? Aaron, is that you?" "Terry, how's Tom?" "Oh, thank God. I'm so glad you called..." "Terry? What's happened?" "Happened? Oh, Tom's fine. They cleaned out one of his carotids, replaced a valve, the mitral valve, I think. He was pretty sick I guess." "How're you doing?" "Aaron, listen, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, about everything. I know life is full of doubt, doubts about everything, but something became clear to me yesterday. Feelings. My feelings for you. Something happened. It's like you became the center of my universe, and I've never felt such clarity in my life, not ever..." "Terry? What are you thinking about...? What about Tom? Aaron and Didi? What about not believing in love?" "Aaron? Tell me to go away and I will. Tell me to come to you, and I will. Do you understand what I'm saying? Just tell me, tell me what to do!" He stood there in silence, stood on the edge of the precipice. "Terry, think about what you want. What you really want. I'm off tomorrow and Tuesday. If you decide to come, I'll be there. You know I'll always be there." He hit the end button and the words came to him: Twenty four before my love you'll see... She would be there, at last...they would finally be together... + Quarter 'til nine...gotta run now... Skis ought to be okay...shit, didn't take the boots home... Cold...wet...oh, so tight...too much salt...feet must be swollen... She'll come. I know she'll come... Betty McCall? God, she was so cute? How many movies did she make? Before she quit? Oh, hell, people are staring at her, and she's wallowing in the attention... "This is going to be an interesting day..." + He walked up to the private lesson corral, called out her name and people laughed. Like who wouldn't know Betty McCall... She walked over to him, looking him over all the way. "You're Aaron?" "I am. And you must be..." "God, you're even cuter in person. I may have you for lunch." He laughed. "Well, let's get away from here, up on the mountain," he said as he took her skis and led her to the gondola building. Soon they were headed up the mountain, the gondola car cold and damp. "How much skiing have you done," he asked. "A little, twenty years ago. I had to take lessons, for a movie I was in." "Oh? So now, what can I help you with up here?" "My boyfriend likes to ski. He has a house up here, and he wants me to ski with him when he comes here." "I see. Well, we'll see if we can't do that, then. Are you cold?" "Freezing!" He reached over, zipped up her jacket, tucked her gloves inside her jacket's sleeves and pulled her pant's snow-cuffs down over her boots...'like taking care of a three year old,' he said to himself. "Thanks," she said. "It's been a while..." "Pretty unforgiving environment, Miss McCall." "Betty, please." "So, who recommended me, if you don't mind me asking?" She rattled off names he'd heard before, other actresses he'd taught over the years, but he thought she reeled off names like lines in a play... all sincerity on the surface, maybe, but he wasn't sure what lay under that surface. Malice? A vacuous non-life? He couldn't tell, but so many of the actors and actresses he'd met over the years had been serial pretenders, content to look like skiers, he laughed at the memory, rather than actually being skiers. And for some reason his mind brought Shirley into sudden, sharp focus. 'Am I content to look like I love people, to act the part of loving someone,' he thought, 'rather than actually loving?" The simple choral refrain Paul Simon hummed in the movie Shampoo filled his mind...and he wondered if that's all he was. He could never have Terry so he filled the void with empty promises and noncommittal committals. Was his life as simple as that? "You seem lost in thought this morning," McCall said. "Rough night?" He looked at her, looked in her eyes. "I was thinking about my life," he said softly. "How someone reached out to me last night, someone quite lovely, really. About how I couldn't make the leap, I couldn't let go of all the fear. In the end, I think, I couldn't let go of my loneliness." The actress seemed stunned. Stunned that someone, anyone, would utter a simple truth to her, confide in her, trust her. Not play her for the fool. She saw pain, simple, honest pain, and it touched her. "We get used to playing a role, over and over," she said, and he looked at her lips as she spoke, trying to gauge the sincerity of the gesture in her words, "and I think we do so because somewhere along the way we're programmed to. We follow that script all our lives, we don't know who wrote it but it's the only script we have, so we follow it over and over again. Maybe it was our parent's script, maybe it's in our genes, or maybe there's a puppeteer up there and we're all dancing when he pulls our strings. Whatever it is, we can't seem to break loose. I think it takes something big, something colossal and life affirming to break free of the script." "Do you feel this way too?" "Do I? Hell, there's not a day goes by where I don't feel like I'm drowning in my life's script. Like it's something I can't escape, or break free of. When every new relationship feels like a fresh start, then it becomes one more train wreck looming in the night. One more in a series. I gave up, finally. I just hang on, like I'm just going along for the ride..." "Yet you feel like something big could...?" "Yeah, it's always right around the bend; like it's out there, somewhere, just waiting for me to find it. I think if I stopped believing in that I'd die." She laughed, looked out the window. "So, what the hell kind of ski lesson is this? You should be paying me for this stuff!" "Sorry. Something about last night, this morning, is messing with my head." "Yeah? So, who's the girl who did this to you?" "Sorry?" "The one who got away? The girl who broke your heart?" "I saw her yesterday. First time in nearly thirty years. She was with her kids, her husband had a heart attack up at the Sundeck and had to be airlifted out of here. We connected somehow, in all the madness." She looked at him, he could see she felt sorry for him. "Anyway, I was thinking about that movie, Shampoo..." "Warren Beatty, Julie Christie? Yeah, that was a slice of life," she mused. "That refrain, you know, the one Paul Simon did?" "Haunting. I hear that version and I hear death, the death of the sixties. Like Nixon, I guess, marks death in the movie. He marked the final death of idealism in America – just as certainly as Oswald's bullet marked the beginning of that death." "Version?" he said. "What do you mean?" "Have you listened to Silent Eyes, on Still Crazy After All These Years?" "I don't remember it." "It's a vocal rendition, but the mood is there, sort of. But I like the version in the movie more. Soulful, I guess, is how that feels. Loss, mourning, infinite longing." He nodded. "I felt alive yesterday. Maybe for the first time, in a long time. Only right now I can't tell if I felt that way because of seeing a friend from my past, or trying to reach out to the girl I was with last night." "If I had to guess, I would say the girl from your past. You look like you want to reconnect with that feeling. The past. My concern is always that's a part of the script that got broken a long time ago. Maybe we want to finally see how it plays out? Maybe because we don't know how it might have played out, and that's a big question to us? Maybe it wouldn't have been as good as you wish it was, but who knows...maybe what you found last night is what's scaring you?" "Yeah, I don't know," he said as the upper gondola building came into view. "Well, looks like we're here. You ready for this?" + Now where the hell did that come from? Felt like a confessional. Just fucking weird...like I was in church... Her eyes? The way she looked at me? It's like she was looking in my soul. Looking right through me...into my deepest fears. How? How could she do that? Know so much? Hell, she's an actress! She puts on layers of bullshit so deep no one can see through it all. Oh, no. She's shivering... + "Are you alright? Need to go in for some hot cocoa or something?" "No, I think I just need to get moving..." "Okay," he said as he got his skis on. He watched as she struggled with her's, then bent down to cock the bindings and guide her boots in. "Step down hard," he said when the first one locked-down, then he moved to the other ski. "Okay, I think you're ready." "I feel nervous," she said. "Shaky..." "No one watching but me, and I'm here to help, remember?" "Yeah, right." "Head down there," he said, pointing to the Copper trail sign, thinking about Terry when he did. "I'll be right behind you." She pushed off, got right into a beginners snow-plow and made a few halting, grinding turns, her arms flailing, her legs stiff, rigid with fear. After the third turn she crumpled and went down, cussing as she fell, and he stopped by her downhill side and offered his hand. "Betty? Are you sure you want to do this?" She refused his hand, sat on the snow looking like a three year old – lower lip pouting, arms crossed, fuming at the world... "Aaron, I am absolutely positive I don't want to do this, but I have to. Jack's coming out in two weeks, and I'm going to be good enough to get down this goddamn mountain by then. And you're the one who's going to get me there. Got it?" "Okay," he said as he bent down to get her out of her skis, "But first, we're going to the lodge and get you warmed up, and we're going to talk about skis, and skiing, then we'll come back out." "I'm not going to argue with that!" she said as she took his hand, and when she was standing on her own she looked in his eyes, took his face in her hands and kissed him gently. "Thanks. I'll try not to be such a pain in the ass." "Come on. Hot cocoa beckons!" He carried her skis, skated along beside her, put their skis in the rack then walked inside with her. She took the table Tom had been at yesterday, and she looked out the window at Aspen Highlands across the valley. "Did you have breakfast this morning?" he asked, and she shook her head. Her hands were shaking a little too, slight tremors, really, then he saw a Medic Alert bracelet on her wrist. "Type 1 or 2," he said as he looked at her color. "Pardon?" "Diabetes? Type 1, I'm guessing." She nodded her head. "That's right." "And you haven't eaten?" "Maybe I should have some orange juice," she sighed as their waitress walked up. "Maybe so. The make a great egg white omelet here too. Maybe some smoked salmon with that?" She nodded. "Make that two, with a couple of cranberry-orange muffins, two OJs and some hot cocoa." The waitress walked off, smiling at Aaron as she left. "You're very perceptive," McCall said. "Do you have a death wish?" he whispered. "Sometimes, yes. I did earlier today, anyway." "Tell me about Jack." "Oh, he's been coming up here forever, kind of a local, I guess. I met him a few months ago, and he invited me up for Valentine's Day." "So, you're together?" "Oh, heaven's no. I hope after that weekend we will be, though." He nodded understanding, thought about her script and if she knew she was setting herself up for failure again, but he saw her watching his eyes, and suddenly felt like she was reading his mind...or maybe, he thought, that's what separates the good actors and actresses from the mediocre...their ability to read moods and react quickly to changing realities? "That must sound so shallow," she said, "after what we just talked about." His phone chimed, and he excused himself, said he needed to check his messages as he pulled out his iPhone. One from Shirley, one from Terry. He opened Shirley's first: "Sorry about this morning. I was feeling confused, rejected. I had such a good time last night. Hope we can do it again sometime. L" He smiled, shook his head, then opened Terry's: "Tuesday morning at 8:35 on United." Like he was playing poker, he replied "okay" then shut down the phone and pocketed it. "Ah, that was the one you were waiting for, wasn't it?" "You're very perceptive too, Miss McCall," he said, grinning. "Good news, I take it?" "Hopeful, Betty. Hopeful." "That's the best there is, Aaron. Nothing better than hopeful." "So, about that death wish?" "I felt like a fool standing out there this morning. All those people pointing and staring, all those people who've been skiing all there lives...and then there I was. I can't make three turns without falling on my face. I'm an actor, not a pretender, but standing out there? I felt shabby. Like the biggest pretender that ever lived." "Everyone's a beginner," he said, grinning, "in the beginning." Cocoa and muffins arrived, and he pointed. "Eat." "Yes, Master!" she said, feigning subservience. "I shall obey, Master!" "Goddamn!" he said, smiling broadly. "You know, you're cuter now than you were twenty years ago..." "And you're so sexy I got weak in the knees when I first saw you." He chuckled. "Right." "Oh, Aaron, laugh if you want, but I'm dead serious." "Well," he said as he looked her in the eye, "you'll never learn to ski if we take that trail. Now, drink that cocoa before it cools down." They ate and talked 'skis and skiing' for an hour, then he took her back outside. It was sunny and warmer, the snow was softer now too, more forgiving as he helped her back into her skis. "Okay, remember what I said about a ski's sidecut? About how if you get the ski on edge it will almost turn on it's own..." They worked the rest of the day, stopping only for a snack mid-afternoon, and by three thirty she was exhausted, almost shaking – but she was skiing, and she was happy. By the time she was at the gondola station she was almost ecstatic... "That's the endorphins," he said. "You'll feel good for another hour or so, then the pain will set in. Thighs and calves first, but by evening your abs will be screaming. Where are you staying?" "The St Regis." "Okay. Get to your room, get cleaned up. See if you can get a massage lined up, and get a smoothie of some sort...bananas, you need lots of potassium or you're going to have leg cramps all night long. Careful with the hot tub thing. That'll just dehydrate you more and make the cramps worse..." "Jesus, Aaron, you make it sound like hell!" "Betty, you did great today, but you used muscles you haven't used in years, and you're going to feel it tonight, but even more so in the morning. Now, I'm off tomorrow..." "No, Aaron...I was counting..." "I was going to say, if you feel up to it in the morning just call the ski school, tell them to call me and I'll come in." "I have a better idea. Why don't you stay with me tonight..." "Because Jack wouldn't like that, and neither would you." She sighed, a theatrical sigh, and then she swooned, putting her hand to her forehead: "Oh Rhett, whatever shall I do?" "Frankly, Scarlett, I think you need to work on your impersonations tonight!" "Oh, Ashley, fiddle-de-dee!" "Massage, hydrate and potassium! Remember that and you'll be fine." "Don't you have a card or something? So I could call you in the morning?" "Sorry...sure..." He fished in a pocket, found his wallet and handed her a couple of cards. "You'll get the ski school at that number, but tell them the extension and they'll connect you." She frowned. "I can't have your cell?" "What's yours?" She gave it to him and he dialed the number. "Now you have it." She smiled. "What are doing tonight?" "I'm going home and going to sleep. You wore me out today." He turned and started to leave. "Aaron?" He turned to her, saw the smile in her eyes. "Sleep well," she said. He nodded his head. "You too," he said as he looked at his phone, seeing a new text from Shirley. "I'm at the shop," it read. "Could you stop by?" He looked at his watch, shook his head and walked over to the rental shop; he looked in the window, saw her at the counter and sighed. She looked up, saw him standing there and waved; he waved back and went in. "You look beat," she said, "like someone really wore you out last night." "Yeah? Well, that's life in the big city. Did you need help getting home?" "If you're free, sure." "I can do that. When do you get off?" "Now. Let me get my things." When they were on the bus she leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry about this morning," she said again, and he nodded. "What are you sorry about?" "I guess I wanted you to ask me to move in or something," she said. "I just felt so close to you last night, I guess I wanted more. I don't want it to end again, ya know?" He knew. They got off at the employee lot and he cleared some snow of the windshield after he got her belted in, and when the engine was warm he got back on 82 and came to the roundabout. He thought about the direction he should take and in the moment he turned off and made his way back up to the quad, back to her apartment, and he helped her in then said goodbye. The door closed behind him and he walked back to the FJ, shaking his head, thinking about the script playing over and over in his head. (C)2016 Adrian Leverkühn | ABW