Page 77 of A World Without You
COLIN WAS RIGHT. Ialways think better when I’m having fun, when I’m letting my mind be free. The cold air whips past my face as I plunge down the slope. I’m no expert skier and it’s never been my favorite thing, but after a few runs, it’s as easy as riding a bike. Colin is much better at skiing than me and much faster. He whizzes past me on our fifth run, and I try my best to keep up, but soon he’s gone in a cloud of snow dust zipping in between the trees.
My pace increases to the point that my left ski wobbles, and as I try to correct my stance, the tip snags on a snow print sending me pummeling forward. Snow pelts my face and burns with each roll of my body. My back hits the ground, and the wind leaves my lungs. I gasp for air and suck in a cloud of snow—the cold shocking my senses. My limbs tangle all around me, and something hard slams into my cheek. Finally, I slow to a stop, sprawled out on my back, starfish style, panting and staring at the sky.
Snowflakes fall slowly toward my face as I blink at the sky. They seem to be in slow motion and I’m certain I’m about to pass out. My name is called, and I’m pretty sure it’s Jesus Himself calling me home.
“Olivia! Olivia!”
Then it draws closer to me. Steady. Calm. A voice I know all too well. “Olivia.”
My eyes focus on my ex-husband above me, and I groan. “You’re not Jesus.”
His mouth almost quirks into a smile as he removes his ski goggles and shouts, “McKinley, go get help!”
His gloved hands hold my shoulders as I start to sit up. “Olivia, you shouldn’t—”
“I’m fine!” I’m being short. I’m speaking like the Olivia who loved him for years and divorced him. He doesn’t seem to notice.
His calm hands stay on me, and I want to scream,You don’t get to touch me anymore. You hate me. You don’t love me. We’re divorced now. You don’t have to pretend to be nice!
But, using my better judgment, I refrain from sounding like a complete lunatic and say, “Really. I’m fine.” I pull off my goggles and he reaches out to my cheek.
I flinch, and he pauses, hesitation blooming all over his face. “You’re bleeding.”
My hand touches my cheek, and I pull it away, my gray glove slick with inky blood. “Well, look at that. That’s not going to look good for Christmas pictures.”
Graham chuckles, and I can’t help but smile.
Within moments, someone from ski patrol is snowboarding over to us with a first aid kit, assessing my injuries.
“Kins, why don’t you go find Colin, and tell him what happened? I’ll stay here,” Graham says. McKinley nods and takes off.
The ski patroller looks no older than nineteen and speaks in a way that I’m certain he uses words likebussin’and spends his days offtoking it up.I bet he has an edible I could steal. His name is probably Chad.
“It’s not too bad,” he says, using gauze to wipe the gash on my cheek. “Even still, I’m going to get a snowmobile over here to take you down the mountain to have the EMTs assess you.”
“I’m fine. Really,” I say, looking between Chad and Graham. “I took a tumble, but I just need a hot chocolate, not a concussion exam.”
Chad chuckles a bit, then says, “Right on. Still though, protocol.”
“Great,” I breathe and stare at Graham as he withholds a laugh.
“I’m going to radio for someone to come over. You two hang tight,” he says, pulling out his radio and walking ten paces over from us.
I turn to Graham. “You didn’t have to get McKinley to find help. I was fine.”
His smile reveals everything he’s thinking. “You still have the biggest attitude.”
“You still think you know what’s best for me.”
His jaw clenches, and he waits two seconds before responding. “I cared for you then. I’m caring for you now.”
“You knew me for a week,” I say, though, I feel like I’m lying as I roll my eyes and ignore his loaded statement. “And I’mfine.I don’t need your help.”
“I’m not...” his voice trails. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do. I feel like I’m transplanted back to the early days of Graham and me when we butted heads and hurt each other’s feelings on purpose to simply get a rise out of the other. But in this world, that’s all we ever did. All we know.
I won’t go back to that. The part when it’s all banter, fun, and games until it’s kissing in the snow and abandoning my whole fucking life.
“I’m going to head down,” I say, standing abruptly and brushing the snow off my pants. My head’s a little woozy from the sudden movement, but I ignore it.
