Perfect (38 page)

whatever craziness gene

he’s carrying. I mean,

maybe she’s just a little

confused. Maybe she could

get help for that, and then

there’s still hope for us.

But how do I find out

for sure? And even if I do,

how could I ever suggest

to her that her brain chemistry

might be in need of adjustment?

Lots to consider. But not today.

Spring break. No school.

No game until Friday. Fresh

powder on the mountain,

I’m skiing. I’ve avoided it

all season, worried about

injuries. But what the fuck.

Can’t live in fear of a fall.

I Don’t Want To Ski Alone

I called Kendra, but she’s busy

having an operation. Fixing

the little bump in her nose

that makes her face unique.

What’s with girls, always

trying to fix stuff that doesn’t

need fixing? Anyway, since

she’s unavailable, I did

the unthinkable and invited

Duvall to come along. He’s

annoying as hell, but a fair skier,

and for some lame reason, girls

are attracted to him. Can’t hurt

to have him with me. Ski resorts

are babe magnets. Maybe I’ll

hook up with a Cara stand-in.

Just something to play with

until I win her back. Still have

Viagra left. Hate to let those

little blue pills go to waste.

Rose Has Been Invaded

“Shit. Check out the crowd. Lift

lines are going to be impossible.

We should ski the singles line.”

I watch three curvy pairs of Lycra

ski pants walk by as we put on

our boots in the top parking

lot.
Uh, yeah,
agrees Duvall.

Easter week and all. Which

means after next weekend

this place is closing up shop.

Spring break is traditionally

the last week for Mt. Rose, no

matter how much snow is left

on the slopes. “Too bad. Skiing

will be great for a month yet.”

Yeah, well, it
is
baseball

season. You ready or what?

We clomp down a slippery

road, skis over one shoulder.

Wait in a forever line just to

buy our lift tickets. Glad

I’m not here for actual

exercise, although

standing in five-year-old

ski boots is kind of a workout.

Finally we’re good to go.

“I haven’t skied all season.

Lakeview good? I need

to warm up.” Duvall gives me

one of those
whatever
looks.

Sure, dude. I’d rather ski with

a girl anyway.
He laughs, slips

into his bindings, and trucks

off toward the chair. And it takes

until I’m snapped into my own

skis to realize he just called

me
a girl. The little (literally)

prick. Under my collar, a warm

seep of irritation crawls

up my neck, toward my face.

From Here

I can choose to go after him,

show him how this particular

“girl” could mess up a certain

guy’s face. Or I can forget it.

Try to remember how to ski.

I push off down a gentle slope

toward the high-speed chair

where Duvall stands, looking

put out.
Do I have to wait for

you all day, or will you pick this

up eventually?
He’s smiling.

Kidding. But I want to smash

his freaking dopey smirk right

through the back of his skull.

Deep breath. And another.

My blood pressure lifts like

mercury in a thermometer.

Time to take a break from

the ’roids. When this cycle is

over, or I die of a heart attack.

Even The Singles Line

Is slow. By the time I slide

my butt onto a chair beside

three kids kicking snowboards,

the bottoms of my feet hurt.

Time for new boots. At least

this is a fast chair. It sweeps up

the mountain until…
thud…

it stops because of a problem

above or below. To my right,

the old, slow chair keeps on

moving at a forty-five-degree

angle toward a lower disembark

point on the same run this one goes

to. It crosses beneath us, and my

ears catch the sound of familiar

laughter. I scan the line of chairs.

Cara? I think it’s her, buddied

up with some girl. With a bump,

the chair starts up again. Before

I know it, I’m at the top, where

Duvall stands off to one side.

I ski right past him. “Coming?

Or will I have to wait for you all

day?” Down the short, semi-steep

face, onto the flat trail that circles

the resort, I reach for whatever

speed I can, hoping to catch up

to Cara. Duvall is right on my

heels.
Hey, man! What’s the hurry?

Thought you wanted to warm up.

I don’t even know why I want

to see Cara. She’ll only piss

me off. I’ve stopped by her

house maybe a dozen times,

but she won’t talk to me, except

to keep repeating,
It’s over, Sean.

Just let it go.
I can’t let it go.

Can’t let her go. Sometimes

I drive by her house, just to see

if there is anyone there. Anyone else

in her life but me. Sometimes

I follow her, but the only place

she ever goes is to rehearsals.

I know she still loves me, even

if she hasn’t forgiven me. Time.

There she is, up ahead. God,

she’s sleek as a dolphin,

surfing snow. Who
is
that

she’s boarding with? The two

turn down the mountain, and

by the time we reach the trail

they took, the girls are out of

sight. I stop at the cornice’s edge,

breathing hard. Not sure I want

to drop over
this.
It’s damn steep.

Duvall, of course, is up for it.

What are you waiting for?

Banzai!
I pause for a second

or two. But what can I really do,

but tail the guy through the trees?

I’m Sure It Isn’t Pretty

But I manage to stay on my

feet and avoid running into

any obstacles. There are lots.

Trees. Stumps. Rocks. A few

bushes, even, thinking it might

be spring. Turn. Turn. Pause.