How I Came to Sparkle Again (18 page)

chapter thirteen

SNOW REPORT FOR JANUARY 1

Current temperature: 17F, high of 22F at 2
P.M.
, low of 12F at 4
A.M.

Clear skies, winds out of the southwest at 20 mph with gusts of up to 30 mph.

58" mid-mountain, 65" at the summit. 0" new in the last 24 hours. 0" of new in the last 48.

The next morning, Jill slipped into the shower sandals that Lisa gave her for Christmas, grabbed her toilet paper, and made her way to the bathroom like every other morning. This morning, though, she noticed Eric’s door was open. She poked her head in and confirmed that his dog, Ale, was the only one sleeping in there. Eric hadn’t come home last night. Just then Tom walked out of the bathroom and gave her a questioning look.

Jill just raised her eyebrows, shrugged, and passed Tom. She went into the bathroom and shut the door, and while she brushed her teeth, she looked at her reflection and wondered if she was actually feeling a little possessive of Eric. At no point had she projected herself and Eric into the future, living on a farm part-time or in the Kennel part-time as a married couple. She couldn’t picture it. What she realized was that when he gave her the New Year’s kisses, he affirmed that she was desirable. She wanted him to keep affirming that, but instead he replaced her with an undoubtedly sexier woman and affirmed Jill’s worst fear: She wasn’t
that
desirable. It was just ego stuff, she knew, but it still compounded the damage done by David.

At the end of the day, Eric stopped in on his way to work just to say hi to Tom and Jill. “Happy New Year!” he exclaimed, a little too happy for Jill’s comfort. Happy in that way a man was after he had a
very
good night.

“Hey, Eric. Looks like your new year is off to a great start,” she said curtly, and then went to the back, where she restocked first-aid kits.

From the back room, Jill heard the mumbling of a brief conversation, and then Eric shouted, “See you later!” to her. She shouted it back and wondered if he had picked up on her tension. She hoped she hadn’t been that obvious. After Eric left, Tom and Jill went to their lockers to get their gear, then rode chair five to begin their end-of-the-day sweep to make sure all the guests were safely off the hill.

On the chair, Tom said, “Look, Jilly, I saw the way you looked at Eric when he stopped by.”

“Really, Tom? And how was that?” which came out a little too bitterly, giving her away.

Tom gave Jill one of those “assess the situation” looks before he spoke. “Hear me out. I’m about to tell you the ultimate man secret.”

Jill laughed, easing the tension. “This should be good.”

“Males are born to do one thing,” he began. “They have one purpose in life, and that’s to have sex with females.”

“That’s a secret?” Jill laughed.

“Listen, you may think you know it, but I’m about to help you know it on a deeper level. In many species, males have to fight other males to be the one that has sex with the female. The ones who win these fights and get the girls are the alpha males. Now females are born to do one thing and that’s have babies.” He suddenly realized how that might sound to Jill, but he kept going. “A female, in most cases, anyway, can only get pregnant by one male, and since there’s no shortage of them, she doesn’t need to fight. Meanwhile, the male can get several females pregnant, which is his goal, even if he’s not conscious of it. He needs to spread that sperm far and wide because chances are that even when he’s done fighting other males, his sperm is fighting the sperm of other males. There are no guarantees that he did his job, so his job is never done. This is the nature of men. Are you following me so far?”

Jill rolled her eyes and nodded.

“Good, okay. Now here comes the tricky part. In some species, the males who stand no chance of competing with other males in the conventional ass-kicking way have figured out that if they show a female some gestures of helpfulness, she’ll give him access to the hooch. He may not spread his sperm far and wide, but at least he impregnates somebody. He may even go so far as to provide the female and her offspring with food in hopes of having access to her again. But make no mistake, this is not the preferred strategy of the male. This is the beta male strategy. That’s why Scooter is the only one of us who has a girlfriend—he’s the ugliest. And Paul and I totally screwed up Jason’s back last year in the Ski Patrol Olympics when we went off a little cliff with him in the sled, so on some level Jason knows he’s weak and can’t go to battle over women. That’s why he got married. If only we had put Paul in the sled instead. Anyway, this stuff is hardwired. It’s imperative you know the difference between alpha and beta males.”

“Are you serious?”

Tom nodded.

“What are you?” Jill asked.

“You need to ask? I’m an alpha. I fuck a lot of women. However, I noticed I’ve begun to lose some of my hair, so in the foreseeable future, it’s possible it won’t be as easy for me to get into the pants of so many women every ski season. See, soon I’m going to have to change my strategy and lock in one woman before I go completely bald, so at least I’m getting some from somebody.”

Jill said, “Ah. So, you’re trying to tell me Eric is also an alpha male.”

“Yes. And maybe there are moments when you wish he loved you, but here’s the thing—he already does. It’s just that alpha male love looks different from beta male love. Eric’s idea of love means he would help you if you ever needed help, especially if that involved having sex with you. Let’s say you wanted revenge on your ex-husband so you devised a plan to trick him into thinking you wanted to spice up the marriage by tying him up for some hot dirty sex. Then once he’s tied up, you let Eric out of the closet and let him go to town on you so your husband can have that image etched in his mind the way you have that woman riding him etched in yours. Eric would do that for you. It may seem like a big favor to ask, but in providing it, he gets to have sex with you
and
outcompete another male. It’s every man’s fantasy. Well, it would be if it involved fucking more women.”

“And what about David?”

“David used to be a beta male. He was probably some geeky little bookworm in school, right? While the football players hosted big frat parties filled with drunk, loose sorority girls, he was in the library. He knew ultimately he’d outcompete the football players over time, but he couldn’t do it right then, so he put a little energy into winning you over, sealed the deal by marrying you, and then stopped putting energy into you. He simply capitalized on his investment by nailing you on a regular basis. Then one day, all his library time finally paid off. He became a businessman with enough money to buy food for a whole harem. The single women looked at this and thought half of that pie was still bigger than the smaller whole pies being offered elsewhere, and so desired your husband. He realized he was no longer a beta male, but had finally graduated to alphadom and capitalized on the mass breeding rights he worked so hard for.

“I’m telling you this because women take it all so personally, and it’s not personal at all. It’s
Wild Kingdom
. No matter what you do, no matter how sweet and hot you are, you are never going to make an alpha male adopt the mating strategy of a beta male—period. The only time that will appear to happen is if the alpha knows the next time he locks horns with another male, he will likely lose. Then the alpha male will make the shift. It’s not personal, though—just good timing for the woman.”

Jill looked stunned, so Tom explained, “Howard loaned me some books on sociobiology.”

“Clearly you’ve thought about this a lot,” Jill said.

“I haven’t just thought about it, Jill. I’ve lived it.”

“So where does the miracle of love fit into your
Wild Kingdom
philosophy?” she asked. She could see the end of the lift approaching.

“Jill, Jill, Jill. Come on. You went to nursing school. Most people think love comes from the heart or soul. The heart simply pumps blood, so love can’t be created there. Where is the center for what appears to be a person’s soul? The brain. And what is created there, Jilly? That’s right—dopamine. What does dopamine do? Creates feelings of love and euphoria. How do we get our brains to create more? Drugs, massage, and/or sex. Boil it down and it’s all just dopamine. The good news is that you can also get more dopamine pumping through your brain by skiing fast, hence the multiple snowgasms of which Lisa speaks.”

Their feet hit the ramp and they stood up. Tom, on the inside of the turn at the bottom of the ramp, took the lead. Jill followed a few feet behind him and to his right as they swept Lollygag.

Jill thought about what Tom said and wondered if he was right or whether she had just chosen to hope Eric would boost her ego because she knew there was no real possibility of anything serious happening between them.

Lollygag was an easy run marked with a green circle. To Jill, the joy of the easy run was just pointing her skis down and giving it all over to gravity. Little dips and turns combined with high speeds made it feel like a roller-coaster ride. She went on autopilot, letting her body function without her brain while she admired snow on the trees and the mistletoe that grew in the treetops. Sometimes on runs like these, she’d see the flash of a red fox running through the woods next to her or little chipmunks treasure hunting under the lift. That’s when it always happened. Today it was a snowshoe hare that caught her eye. She caught an edge and was airborne long enough to contemplate how the false sense of security that led to her wipeout was likely a factor in her marital problems as well.

Fortunately, Tom was ahead of her and didn’t look back before she got up. He had explained to her recently that there was an ugly necklace with a wooden corkscrewlike thing on it called the Auger that was passed from patroller to patroller. No one wanted it because whoever had it on payday had to buy all the other patrollers flaming shots at the Gold Pan. A patroller with the Auger could relieve himself of it if he saw another patroller fall while skiing in uniform. Jill didn’t know if Tom had the Auger, but she was glad he didn’t see, just in case.

She pulled into the lift line a minute or two behind Tom, long enough for him to realize he’d lost his chance. What started as an amused look grew into a big smile. “Really? On Lollygag?” he said, and brushed some snow out from the crack between her goggles and her helmet. “Gaper.”

“I have no idea how that snow got there,” Jill declared with a smile.

“I have a pretty good idea,” Tom said, and skied up to the chair-loading line.

Jill followed him. “You can’t prove anything,” she said.

“Hey, Scooter,” Tom said. “I want you to notice the snow in Jill’s helmet.”

Scooter looked and asked, “Good run?”

Tom answered, “Oh, it was great. It was
Lollygag
.”

Jill gave Tom a little punch while Scooter snickered.

“Wet T-shirt night at the Gold Pan,” Tom told Scooter.

“I’m a no-go,” Scooter said. “Hot date with my girlfriend.”

“The man-to-woman ratio up here is six to one. I still can’t figure out how you got a woman,” Tom said.

“I just asked your mother and she said yes,” Scooter replied.

“Oh!” Jill said just as the chair came up behind them and lifted them up and away.

“Who knew the secret to unloading the Auger was not to take your partner down the burliest runs, but to take them on Lollygag, where they’ll … what, were you looking at nature? Oh, that’s beautiful. I can’t believe I missed it.” He paused for a moment, thoughtful, and then said, “I might still get a beer out of this anyway.”

“How’s that?” Jill asked.

“Two. Two beers. Good beers. Fat Tire Ambers. That is the cost of me not including ‘Jill ate it on Lollygag yesterday’ during morning announcements tomorrow, and/or including it in the Peter Book.”

The Peter Book was a journal that was brought out every payday at the bar during drinks, where the patroller who did the stupidest thing during the pay period had to write his or her story and then read it aloud. Jill hadn’t attended any of these payday events but was hearing more and more about them. She was more than self-conscious enough to find the whole prospect mortifying.

“Done,” she said. “Would you like your beers at the lodge or at home?”

“Oh, I think the lodge has a nice ambience. Plus, that’s where the babes are.”

“Of course,” she said. “Hey, Tom? Back to what you were saying before, how does birth control play into all of this? I mean, if all males want to get as many females pregnant as possible, why the condoms?”

He nodded. “Excellent question, Jilly. Beta male strategies were written into law because beta males, smarty pants that they are, were writing laws while the alphas were busy having sex. If an alpha male is paying child support to five women, he’s no longer desirable. He can’t afford to ski or look good or buy girls drinks, so he doesn’t get laid. Now the beta males can weasel in for some action. Child support makes mating more complicated for alphas for sure, but make no mistake, the biological imperative to have sex with as many women as possible is most definitely hardwired.”

They passed the signs on the chairlift poles instructing them to be prepared to unload. Then their feet hit the ramp and they were off to sweep Meander, another easy run.

“You go in front this time!” Tom called, hanging back. “I’ve only got a week to get rid of the Auger!”

When they were done sweeping, Jill went to the bar and ordered Tom his two bottles of Fat Tire Amber and one for herself. As she walked toward Tom with the beer and reflected on all his big brother advice, she realized he was the brother she never had. When she returned, they clinked beers, said cheers, and took a drink.

Lisa walked in, spotted them, and, as she made her way toward them, began to peel off her hat, goggles, neck gator.