Page 39 of The Mountain
“I’m not going to let you hold yourself back,” I tell her, as the chairlift sweeps us up, and the noise of the crowd gives way to the grinding of gears overhead and the dripping of snow in pine boughs. “You tried doing that yesterday, and it didn’t work out, remember?”
“Okay, okay, fine!” Jackie laughs, shaking her head in bemused disbelief, shoulders relaxing. She doesn’t grip the safety bar this time, doesn’t stare at the ground flying below us with trepidation. Her legs swing beneath her, rocking the chair slightly, and her smile lingers long after her laughter fades.
Silence stretches between us for a long moment as my mind races, planning for which runs to take her down, which blue run will challenge her just enough, but not too much. Which runs seem the least intimidating from the top, and look the most impressive from the bottom.
The Shoulder comes to mind, a run I remember doing with Liam when we trained. It seems like a lifetime ago now. He’d pointed out the way the run curved, the trees blocking off the distant mountains, making everything seem smaller and more compact, making the gradient less apparent from the top.
When we’d got to the bottom, Matty had stared back up, a wide smile on his face, his blue eyes crinkling. “You sure that’s a blue run?” he’d said, his question aimed at no one in particular. “Looks more like a black from here.”
Liam had given that small quirk of his lips which I’d thought was his smile, before I knew him. Before I’d seen those rare but gorgeous flashes of real joy.
“This run is what we call a confidence booster,” he’d explained. “It’s a good one to take students down because it seems like a green from the top. If you’re smart about it, you can distract them as you go past the sign and they won’t even know you’re taking them down a blue. Then, when they get to the bottom, it’s like ‘ta-da!’” He’d waved his gloved hands, then gave a derisive snort. “Sometimes it’s what they need to really understand what they’re capable of.”
“What made you decide to become a snowboard instructor?” Jackie’s question has me blinking, and I mentally put my lesson planning to one side as I think about how to answer her question.
She gives me a wry smile, her eyes dipping to my name tag. “It says you’re from Hawaii. I meant to ask you about it yesterday, actually. I’ve been to Hawaii on holiday. Before…” She wrinkles her nose, as if the thought of a holiday on white-sand beaches is viscerally repulsive to her. Or maybe, it’s just the memory of a holiday spent with her ex-husband. “There’s no snow in Hawaii, is there?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, contemplating the easiest way to explain it.
“We grew up going on a lot of ski holidays, I guess.” I give a dismissive shrug, even as I’m internally cringing. Because I know how that sounds. The way that one sentence just drips with unintentional privilege. “I… uh… I was actually studying at UH last semester, getting ready to take the LSAT.” I fix my gaze on the chair ahead of us, on the trees, on the distant top of the lift. “My parents have wanted me to do law school for forever, and I think I will, once I go back, but I just needed a break, you know.”
I swallow, thinking about why I was so desperate to escape. About that last day in Hawaii, surrounded by friends, full of guilt because I couldn’t feel the way I thought I should feel about any of them. About Steve and his bizarre comment about my breasts and his broken nose. About my parents’ last words to me, and the empty thread of texts.
The thought of going back to that, of leaving this all behind and trudging through sun showers between the library and my university lectures, of staring down another four years of studies and then job applications and internships… I press one gloved hand to my stomach, suddenly feeling like I might be sick.
I hazard a glance at Jackie. She gives me a long, knowing look, her lips set in a grim line. “Is that what you want?” she finally asks. “You want to be a lawyer?”
I give a small shrug, not sure of how to answer. There was a time when I’d thought it was what I wanted. At least, I think there was.
Jackie doesn’t push me for an answer. Instead, she says: “You’re a good teacher, Lily. Yesterday morning, I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to do this. Even this”—she waves one hand for emphasis—“even riding the lift was terrifying for me.” She givesa soft chuckle. “I don’t know what magic you worked, but I don’t think I’d want anyone else teaching me.”
Tears prick behind my eyes. I blink them back, but the heat of them fogs my goggles.
“I can tell you enjoy this, too.” There’s a hint of wry amusement in her voice as she adds: “Trust me, I’ve been around enough young lawyers to tell which ones love what they’re doing, and which ones don’t. And the ones that don’t—they’re out of the game within a year. Oh, sure, some make it a bit longer. And I pity them for their resilience, because they come out of it even more dejected than the ones who realize at the start it’s not for them.”
I lift my goggles, turning to stare at her in unmasked surprise.
She gives a one-sided grin, but there’s nothing joyful about it. “It’s the truth. And you know what? We let them struggle, let them grind it out, because at the end of the day, it’s just a big pyramid scheme. Maybe one in fifty will make partner, but the rest? They just make the firm money while they can hack it, and when they get burned-out, we replace them with one of the hundreds of law graduates hungry for a job. Desperate to pay off their student loan debt.”
My heart thunders at her words, at the bald honesty of them. Whenever I’d imagined myself going to law school, I’d thought about the pride I’d feel getting my degree, and how happy my parents would be, and how powerful and self-sufficient I’d feel getting my first job. I’d always imagined myself as successful and happy—because how could I not be?
The chairlift ambles along, lilting and swaying.
“You might love it. Who knows?” She shrugs, then stares up at the top of the lift, the offramp still far enough away that she doesn’t seem worried about it. “I certainly do.” She gives a soft chuckle. “Despite all the complaining I did yesterday, I love the actual work. Maybe not always the people, or the pressure, or even my clients. But I love the challenge.”
There’s a hollowness to her words, like it’s a mantra she’s said to herself so many times, the words have lost their meaning. She falls silent, the pair of us staring at the top of the chairlift, until it’s close enough that we can see the smiles on the lifties’ faces as they help people off the lift. I’m strangely grateful for the sight of them, grateful to escape Jackie’s questions that echo too closely the concerns that have kept me up each night.
Maybe it’s cowardly of me, but I don’t want to think about what happens at the end of the season. Every time I do—every time I think about a world without snow, without teaching, without the guys—it carves out a hollowness behind my ribs that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fill.
I don’t have to give this up.The thought rustles against my consciousness, unbidden.I could go somewhere for the off-season and train for a better certification. A real certification. And we could stay together…
The thought has longing rushing through me, a visceral pull that has me bending forward, pressing one gloved hand to my stomach. The imagined alternative dances before my vision, ephemeral as the snowflakes starting to fall around us, spiraling lazily on the windless air.
All six of us together in some southern hemisphere country, smiling up at snowcapped mountains, hiking through fresh powder, muscles burning, knowing that at the end of the day,home is waiting for us. Some cute little house by an alpine lake with a blazing fire and a sleepy dog. And that feeling of belonging, of knowing my worth—that feeling that I got a taste of today, maybe for the first time ever—I’d feel it to my very bones…
“Ready?” I say, raising my voice to be heard over the gears of the lift grinding overhead. “Same as last time. You got this.”
I pull down my goggles, ignoring the sharp sting behind my eyes, the ache in my throat, and give Jackie a reassuring smile, letting myself get swept back up in the now. In the flow of teaching, of movement. I refocus my mind on all the things I need to do to help Jackie get down the mountain, and push those longing whispers away.
