Page 6 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
Ten minutes later, I hear the pitter-patter of little feet on the stairs and turn to see a sleepy Willow shuffling into the kitchen. My mood brightens instantly.
“Morning, love.”
If I thought her hair was a mess yesterday, it’s much worse now. The braid is in shambles, sticking out in all directions, loosely held together by the elastic at the bottom. She offers me a small smile and climbs onto a stool at the island worktop.
“Morning, Dad,” she says with a yawn, so it sounds more like “morig da,” which makes me chuckle. “I’m hungry.”
“I bet you are, Willow Bear. You slept right through dinnertime last night. Scrambled eggs and toast sound okay?” She nods and swivels on her stool to take in the open floor plan. Behind her is the entryway and the stairs that lead up to our rooms, and the ones that disappear down to the lower level. Both the eat-in kitchen and living room are lined with expansive windows that look out onto the mountains and Empyreal’s ski runs. The natural light is nearly blinding, and she squints sleepily.
“I’ll give you the tour after breakfast. I think you’re going to love your room,andthere’s a game room downstairs”—I wiggle my eyebrows at her, knowing this will be her favorite part—“with a foosball table.”
She squeaks with excitement. Her private school back home has one and she fell in love with it. So much so that I bought her one for our house. The house we left behind in Sydney. Damn, it’s like a punch to the gut to think of going back there just thetwo of us. Eventually we’ll have to figure that out. I turn away to grab plates so she doesn’t see my smile fall.
“Can I go play now? Daddy, please!”
“Breakfast first. Then, you’re going down, little ankle-biter.” I laugh and she joins in, nothing but glee on her face. The fact that she can still find that kind of joy fills my heart and gives me hope for myself.
Plating our scrambled eggs and toast, I add a sprinkle of shredded cheese and slide Willow’s across to her. I carry mine around so we can sit shoulder to shoulder. I moan around my first mouthful of eggs, and it hits me all at once that I slept through dinner last night too. I only took a cursory look around the house before brushing my teeth and falling into bed. The bright side of that was getting a few hours of sleep before I ended up at the stinky end of Willow’s feet.
Appreciative sounds interrupt my musings, and I nudge Willow’s side. Getting her to eat has never been an issue. The kid can put away some food, but she also has more energy than a kangaroo on crack.
“Done!” She raises her hands in the air and looks at my nearly empty plate. “Come on, Dad, I want to go play!” She tugs on my elbow, and I swallow back the desire to tell her to be patient. She’s been cooped up or sleeping for nearly two days and that energy has finally found its way to the surface. She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, standing beside the stool and smiling ear to ear.
“Okay okay. I’m done.” I look at the mess on the counter, then at the four-foot form already clearing the first two steps downstairs. I turn my back on the kitchen.
I have a foosball game to win.
I did not win. I don’t know how she managed to school me so thoroughly. It was kind of embarrassing actually, and I’m just glad there was no one else around to watch me fail.
Hell, there’s yet another metaphor for my life in there somewhere.
After she yelled “In your face, sucker!” at me for the third time, I had to send her to her room so she could take a minute to cool down.Awesome. I blame Wes for that little gem of a phrase. However, I’m not sure it’s the punishment I intended with how thrilled she is at the bunk-bed situation.
I told her to unpack—maybe a little ambitious on my part—and I’ll likely be unable to find a single thing I put in her suitcase when I go in there later. So really, I’m punishing myself.
Ah, the joys of parenting.
I drop back into my pillows and cross my arms over my chest, heaving a sigh.I’m a single parent. Officially. I have no partner to fall back on anymore. No one to ask for help. No one to share both the beauty and burden of parenting with. As much as I want to let myself pretend this is a carefree vacation, just me and my favorite girl, it’s not. The realization cracks something in me, just like every time I think about the life we had before and the life that awaits us now in the after.
Taylor Swift’s voice floats through Willow’s door down the hall. I should probably tell her that being in something like a time-out means no music, but right now, if it makes her happy, she can dance around to “Shake it Off” all she wants.
I stare at the unmoving ceiling fan and the raw emotions crest like a wave. I’ve always had them—big emotions, and lots of them. I learned after my parents died that those things make people uncomfortable though. That negative ones only work to scare people off. So, since I was thirteen, repressing them became as easy as breathing. And after my aunt and uncle—who took me in when I lost my parents—also passed, it became as natural as the skin I wear. At least it was, until my entire life imploded. Now I’m feeling too much and I’m afraid of what that might do to the people around me who have never seen me as anything but positive, happy, and confident.
What will it do to Willow if she sees me like this? I’ve been trying my best to shelter her. She’s struggling in her own way and shouldn’t have to see her dad struggling as well. It’s my job to protect her. Even from my own feelings—especiallyfrom my own feelings. She doesn’t need another person in her life changing right before her eyes.
Not that Talia changed.
She just left.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rory
Istare at my phone, at the blank text thread I just opened. Everything I type out feels weird and I delete it before I can hit send.Hey, just checking in… delete delete delete.How did you guys sleep last night… backspace backspace backspace. Breck’s not my friend—not really. I tap my fingers along the side of my phone while worrying my thumbnail between my teeth.
Yesterday was friendly, right? He seemed genuinely glad to see me… but I think that’s just Breck’s nature. According to Wes, he’s never met a stranger, and after years of hearing him talkabout his friend, I feel like Idoknow him. When we met for the second time in Hawaii, I was terrified and heartsick over how close I came to losing my brother, my favorite person in the world, so those interactions are blurry.
Otherwise, I’m sure I would’ve embarrassed myself like I did at their graduation all those years ago. But then, show me a fourteen-year-old girl who wouldn’t think their big brother’s friend with the blond surfer curls, strong cut jaw, and swoony Australian accent was the hottest guy on the planet.
