Solstice - Of The Heart (23 page)

“What’s wrong? Where’s everyone
going?”

“There’s been a power outage. None of
the chair lifts are operating.”

“Is the park closed?”

“For now.”

“They didn’t say how long before the
power is back on?”

“They didn’t, but they said the park
is going to be closed through tomorrow so I expect they won’t have
power until then.”

“So where’re you guys
going?”

“Miller Flats.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s Miller Flats?”

“Back country skiing.”

Undoubtedly, Cherrie was disappointed,
as were a host of other skiers. In my imagination I could see
Jason’s disappointed face too.

“So,” I said, somewhat relieved, “not
much we can do, huh?”

“You’re not getting off that
easy.”

“You’re still going?”

“Perfect time to learn how to
snowboard. When no one else is around.”

“They said the park’s
closed.”

“The lifts are. The kiddie park isn’t.
And if you have a mind to, you’ll hoof the hill and board back
down. Isn’t that what you did in Minnesota? Hoof speed
bumps?”

“Yes. Speed bumps. Not
mountains!”

When we arrived, there were more than
a few cars in the parking lot, including a beat up old pick up
Dodge Ram truck.

“Your beau is around here
somewhere.”

“Aaron? How do you know?”

“Cause I see the truck he
drives.”

“Where?”

Cherrie pointed to an old blue colored
truck with a splotchy painted hood. It was the same one I saw up at
Bunny flat the day Aaron saved us. The hood ornament, a ram rearing
up, was the only thing on the vehicle not rusted.

We unpacked our gear and I slipped on
my boots. I waited for Cherrie to finish suiting up into her
boarding pants (all I had were my sweat pants and winter
coat).

“Did you bring sun
glasses?”

I grimaced. “No.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“I didn’t think about them. I was in a
hurry. Remember? Somebody kept honking the horn.”

“You’ll burn your eyes out without
protection. Here. You’re going to have to wear these.” She handed
me a pair of goggles. “They’re not the best for direct sun, but
they’re better than nothing.”

I slipped them on and took a look at
my reflection in the car’s window.

I groaned.

“What now?”

“I look like a clown.”

Cherrie chuckled.

“Yes, you do. Orange hat, blue
goggles, red coat, gray sweat pants, and oversized boots. You
definitely look like you’ve escaped from the circus.”

I searched the hills for Aaron. I
could see small dots climbing the slopes and others boarding. It
seemed like a lot of work for a very quick trip down. Out of the
corner of my eye I noticed three dots off to the left side. In
comparison to the other dots, their trip up the mountain seemed
effortless. They took half the time to climb as the other snow
boarders.

And then I saw why.

Aaron, Beaumont, and Belmont were
snowboarding up the mountain. Slower, of course, than when they
came down, but nevertheless, skiing up.

I didn’t know if I should consider
that to be abuse of power or chalk it off to boys having fun. After
all, from what I had seen, if a snowboarder gained enough speed, he
or she could ski up and over hills. Granted, this was a bit
different.

I also noticed something else
different about the Delmons. Despite the brilliant sunshine on the
crystalline white snow, all three rode without eye protection. I
wondered why they weren’t burning their eyes out.

“Aaron,” I said.

“Where?”

I lined Cherrie up and pointed.
“There. See him?”

“Yes. And the book-ends. Come on,”
Cherrie said. Let’s get you started.”

Learning to snowboard is frustration
excel. Your feet are trapped sideways in a board that has a mind of
its own, goes where it wants to go, and leaves you hanging in
balance and on your backside, ninety-nine percent of the
time.

I made it down the slope my first time
up, but I doubt Cherrie approved, because I laid flat on my back
the whole ride down with the board dragging behind me.

“What am I doing wrong?”

“Possibly everything. Look,” Cherrie
said, as she stood erect and struck a pose. “You need to stand up
straight, knees bent a little, and point where you’re
going.”

With her arm stretched out front, she
pointed in the direction-sideways across the hill—where she wanted
to go.

It looked easy enough.

I stood.

The board started to move on its own
down the slope.

“Point!”

“I’m trying.”

I really wasn’t. My points were more
down than out as I braced for falling. It seemed, and was, the
natural thing to do.

And fall I did, landing, once again,
on my behind.

Another soggy behind day.

“Okay,” Cherrie said. “Let’s get off
this mole hill.”

I unclipped from the board.

“Where’re we going?”

“Over there.”

Cherrie pointed to what looked like a
mountain to me.

“You’re crazy! I can’t ride the kiddie
hill. What makes you think I can ride that thing?”

“If there’s one thing you need to
understand about snowboarding, is speed is your friend.”

“Tell that to the trees,” I said,
eyeing the rows of dark solid looking trunks sticking out on both
sides of the monster hill’s run. “Isn’t that how skiers die? By
hitting trees?”

“Remember when you learned how to ride
a bike?”

“Yes. Sort of. I also remember there
weren’t any trees in the middle of the road.”

“Remember how you kept falling over?
But once you got up to speed you didn’t fall over
anymore?”

“My bike had training
wheels. I never fell over. Where are the training wheels on this
thing?”

I held the board up for Cherrie’s
inspection.

“You want to do this or
not?”

I looked at the mammoth hill. Off to
the left I could see the three dots, one of them Aaron, climbing
and boarding, climbing and boarding. To the right, more than a
dozen boarders rode the hill. I guessed it was Jason and his group
of diehards.

“Let’s do it.”

To say the climb to the top of the
hill was hard is an understatement. If you have ever walked in snow
boots across a parking lot you understand what I am saying. Not to
mention the boots I wore were a bit oversized. They’re made for
stability not flexibility. It’s like trying to scale a
mountain...well, yes, with oversized clown shoes on.

I could not but help envy the Delmon
trio and their ability to ski back up the mountain.

It all seemed unfair.

By the time we crested, my head
pounded, but I didn’t say anything to Cherrie. I didn’t want to
alarm her and have her tell me I should have stayed home and rested
like the nurse ordered. I did plead for a breather,
however.

“You flatlanders,” she said. “When are
you going to learn to breathe correctly at altitude?”

“There is such a thing?”

“Yes. Thought I already told
you.”

“So teach me again.”

“It’ll come to you. Relax. Think about
it. Breathe deep. Slow. Expand the lungs fully. And then let it
out.”

She demonstrated by sucking in air and
then forcing it out.

“I never had to think
about breathing before.”

“You’ll get it. Just takes
practice.”

I gave the technique a shot. The
thumping in my head quieted.

We clipped onto our snowboards and
stood.

I looked up the mountain
and wondered; with all of the fresh powder, would we start an
avalanche and become buried? Looking down the mountain did not
bring me joy, either. At the moment I thought; why doesn’t she just
push me off a cliff and be done with it?

My legs stiffened to the point of
break. I dug my heels in, but even though the edge of the board set
at an angle, I could feel the downward pull.

“Okay,” Cherrie said. “I want you to
do this.”

She stood erect, facing
downhill.

She set her board sideways
against the down slope of the hill and pointed. Her board moved
forward following in the direction she pointed.

“Now,” Cherrie yelled over her
shoulder, “if it gets going too fast simply turn it back up the
hill.”

She did this and I saw where the board
slowed to a stop.

“Looks easy enough.”

“It is. But you got to relax. Tense up
anymore and you’re going to break a bone. Try it.”

I did. The stance anyway. Relaxing was
impossible, but I followed through on the maneuver.

“This is fun!”

A second later, the lip of the
snowboard caught and I tumbled forward on my face. I came up
spitting snow and coughing out powder.

“Okay. Back on your feet. Try it
again, only this time,” Cherrie said, “when you get to the end,
switch arms and point in the opposite direction.”

Cherrie made ‘back on your feet’ sound
easy, like if I was standing up from a chair. I thrashed around in
the knee deep powder like an animal caught in quicksand.

“How do I get up?”

“Roll over.”

“With the board on?”

“Yes. Roll over and face the
mountain.”

I performed the maneuver, not
gracefully, I imagine. Without too much effort I found the standing
position. But now I faced the hillside. I actually liked it better
as I couldn’t see down.

“Okay,” Cherrie said, “stick out your
arm and follow where you point.”

I followed Cherrie’s instructions,
carving one, two, and then three slices across the hill.

Cherrie kept up the
encouragement.

“Keep it going,” she said. “Imagine a
Christmas tree and you are making the design of its branches in the
snow.”

I kept at it. Before I knew it I found
bottom. My fear turned into exhilaration.

“That is fun!”

But exhausting.

Cherrie unclipped from her
board.

“Come on. Let’s do it
again.”

The hammer in my head pounded. My legs
only wanted to move at a snail’s pace, but I followed Cherrie’s
lead.

I unclipped from the snowboard and
started the long trudge up the slope. I took turns watching the
Delmons off to the left and Jason’s group off to right as they rode
the slopes. They made boarding look easy, and fun. Whenever one
caught air-which was often-or performed a jump, I heard shouts of
“boyah!”

Cherrie waited for me at the top,
clipped in and ready to go when I arrived. This time she rode a few
yards out in front of me, pointing and leading the way. We reached
the bottom all too soon.

I sat down and unclipped.

Cherrie unclipped and started for the
hill.

“Come on.”

“You go ahead. I’m beat.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, I’m serious. My head hurts. I’ll
stay here and watch you. Show me your stuff.”

I made myself as comfortable as
possible in the snow. My behind felt wet and cold, but I was too
spent to stand.

Cherrie reached the top, clipped in,
and was on her way down when I saw a blur of three riders cross
from left to right above and behind her.

I recognized Belmont and Beaumont in
the lead with Aaron trailing behind. Aaron wore a maroon beanie—my
maroon beanie?

I was captivated by the skill they
showed on the snowboards. No doubt Jason would agree they were
rippin flake, and doing it in and around trees.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw
Jason and his group hurtling down the slope. From my point of view,
Aaron and the book ends were on a direct collision course with
Jason and his friends. At the last minute I saw the Delmons adjust
their route, not away from one of the boys in Jason’s group but
toward him. It was as if they were targeting him.

I rose to my feet and watched,
helpless to warn them off.

Belmont and Beaumont arrived first,
one uphill from the snowboarder, one downhill. Their action caused
the snowboarder to pull up. A fraction of a second later, Aaron
went airborne.

He turned the board
sideways.

From where I stood, I saw the board
and Jason’s friend’s head connect. I saw the boy’s goggles and
beanie go flying. I saw Jason’s friend, in a swirl of powder,
upended, cartwheel, and plow into the snow. He slid down the hill
for some distance. I could see the unmistakable contrast of red on
white, but I didn’t know if it was blood or gear.