How I Came to Sparkle Again (23 page)

Snowing, winds out of the south at 10 mph

93" mid-mountain, 115" at the summit. 12" new in the last 24 hours. 36" of new in the last 48.

From the doorstep, Mike could look into his house and see that Cassie and Jill were still asleep on the couch. His first thought was that Cassie must have had another rough night, because she should have been in school by now. His second thought was how thankful he was to have someone watching Cassie who clearly cared a lot about her. His third thought was simply how soft they both looked—soft and kind. He waited an extra moment before turning the doorknob. Cassie was sleeping on her back, but her head had rolled to the side just a little, into the crook in Jill’s arm. Jill’s feet were on the footstool and her head was bent uncomfortably forward, turned slightly toward Cassie.
Her neck is going to hurt today,
Mike thought. He looked at Jill’s face, and while he had always thought she was pretty, suddenly she looked so much more than pretty to him. He had an impulse to touch her cheek. Then he noticed Kate’s bathrobe balled up in Cassie’s arms and felt guilty for even thinking it.

He slowly turned the doorknob, trying to be silent, but Jill stirred and opened her eyes. She crawled out from underneath Cassie. She was wearing long underwear, and Mike didn’t mean to, but he noticed her curves.

He walked in and whispered, “Sick?”

Jill shook her head. “Socks was hit by a car last night. She took it
really
hard. I just couldn’t throw her into school without letting her debrief a little more.”

The lines between Mike’s eyes deepened, and Jill could tell that he had been attached to the cat, too.

“I’m sorry,” Jill said.

“It’s okay. You did the right thing. I’ll take her to school later.”

Jill nodded, stepped into her clothes, picked up her things, and headed for the door, but as she passed Mike, she squeezed his arm. “No, I’m not sorry she’s late for school—I’m sorry about Socks,” she said.

“Death happens. Socks was a cat,” he replied.

And even though Jill knew he was saying that for his own benefit, she said, “But Socks was part of your family, and one of the few comforts Cassie has had. Somehow, he made the house warmer.”

Mike looked down and nodded.

She gave his hand one more little squeeze before she let it go, put on her parka, and left.

Mike went out the back door, picked up his splitting maul, and started splitting rounds. The wood was nice and dry, but he hit it with great force anyway, sending the fractions flying.

“Goddamn cat,” he muttered as he chopped. “Goddamn cat.”

What timing. What timing,
he thought as he brought the heavy maul down again and again.
Goddamn cat
.

*   *   *

Jill walked over to Lisa’s. They both had the day off and planned to ski.

“Hey, girl,” Lisa said as she answered the door. “Tom told me you had an intense night last night.”

Jill took a big breath. “It was a hard one. Tom totally saved the day.”

“He does that sometimes,” Lisa said, and went off to gather her things. Jill noticed that Lisa didn’t take the opportunity to insult him.

“Mind if I check my e-mail?” Jill asked. “It’s been a while.”

“Go right ahead,” Lisa answered.

Jill logged on and shouted, “Oh, goody! My parents sent Valentine’s wishes!”

“Super!” Lisa shouted back.

“Listen to this! ‘For those of you who are not now enjoying the tremendous blessings of a Temple rather than temporal marriage with promises of eternal companionship, we encourage you to turn your hearts to the Gospel. We pray that you will find your way back, for a marriage without strong moral fiber is destined to fail and only the Gospel can offer you that moral fiber.’”

While Jill read Lisa puttered in her kitchen, putting cups in the sink and unloading the dishwasher. “There you go, Jill,” she said. “All this time it was so simple.” She dried her hands on a dish towel.

Jill shook her head. “Seriously, wasn’t it nice of them to direct that e-mail right at me, but send it to all their friends and family?”

“Well, you could block them.”

“Block them?” Jill asked.

“Yeah, block their e-mails. You don’t need that shit. You’re not genetically obligated to read that shit. Go to ‘More Actions’ and ‘Filter Messages Like These.’ It’s easy.”

“Good to have options,” she said as she simply logged out. “Ready.”

“Off we go,” Lisa said as she picked up an armload of her gear. Together, they walked out.

Jill noticed new purple lingerie on Lisa’s clothesline. “Hot date tonight?” Jill asked her.

“Nah,” Lisa said. “I’m still trying to get my attic remodeled for you. Plus, it’s just easier.”

“I’m all about the monk/nun happiness program,” Jill replied as they walked to the mountain. “Sometimes, though, I wonder if there is something wrong with me. Not only have I not wanted to have sex with anyone since I lost my baby, I haven’t even wanted to have sex with myself.”

Lisa seemed to consider that. “I think that’s to be expected, given the circumstances.”

“I’ve always been such a healthy woman in that respect, you know? And now … I don’t know. I think my cha-cha’s in a coma.” Jill shrugged.

“Aw, sweetheart, I bet your cha-cha is just sleeping. Don’t worry. She’ll wake up,” Lisa said. “Maybe your cha-cha is like a bear that needs to hibernate to save energy during your proverbial winter. There’s nothing wrong with energy conservation, especially these days.”

“Maybe I’m using all my Kundalini energy to create
my
new life instead of
a
new life,” she said.

“Makes sense,” Lisa said. “You’re giving birth to your new life. No one wants to have sex while they’re giving birth. Not for a while afterward, either, I’m told. P.S., you’re totally turning into your uncle Howard.”

Jill laughed. “There are worse things than turning into Uncle Howard.”

“When he retires or passes on, you’ll take over the library and be the one to make the ski team read
Siddhartha
. I can totally see it now.” Lisa laughed.

Jill pictured it and smiled. “Never,” she said.

*   *   *

Their feet hit the platform and they slid to a spot where they took their skis off and hiked up the snow stairs created by other people who had kick-stepped up the hill. Then they followed the path across a narrow metal grate bridge. When the ridge widened again, they put their skis back on and skated the rest of the way across the ridge to the Horseshoe Bowl. At the top of the bowl, they just stood there for a moment and took in the view all around them.

“I’m so glad I’m not in Texas making meat loaf for David right now,” Jill said.

“Amen, sister,” Lisa agreed.

They watched two other skiers on the other side of the bowl pick their lines and go. They were the only other people up there.

Jill pointed to a place without tracks. “That’s my line,” she said.
If only life were as easy as that,
she thought.
If only I could see an untracked place in the world, say to myself, “That’s my life,” and go.
She skied over to the line she wanted and dropped off the edge.

As she made nice tight turns, she thought about how she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. She realized being in control in skiing or in life wasn’t a matter of being able to stop; it was only a matter of being able to change direction.

When she reached the bottom of the bowl, she turned uphill to watch Lisa ski beautiful eights over her line. Then Lisa passed Jill, so she followed her through a lovely glade and over some gentle knolls. She felt the life force strong inside her and wondered when it had returned. She felt glad, so deeply glad. She may not have had any sex drive, but she had life force. Maybe they were degrees of the same thing.

At the chair, Lisa said, “I think I have time for one more lap.”

“Ah-ha! So you
do
have Valentine’s plans! Busted!”

“Nah,” Lisa said. “I just have my heart set on making Tom obscene heart-shaped cookies—you know, like those Sweethearts candies, only with much nastier words and suggestions.”

Jill looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“What?” Lisa said. “I just think it would be funny to make those cookies, and he’s the only person I can think of who wouldn’t freak out if I gave them to him. I mean, I think they would scare Hans and Scooter. They would think I was some nasty cougar with a secret agenda or something. I think these might even scare Eric. They are going to be
dir-ty
.”

Jill laughed. “You should make one that says ‘Kidney Love.’”

“Shut up,” Lisa said with a smile.

Jill held her hands up. “I’m just saying…”

“Get on the chair,” Lisa said.

They skied another great run, and then Lisa took off to make her cookies.

Jill skied alone and remembered a Valentine’s Day long ago that changed her life. She and David were sophomores in college and had no money. He had made her fettuccine Alfredo and a big green salad. They had no taste in wine then, so he poured cheap white zinfandel into two glasses. He smelled especially good that night. He had worn a crisp button-up shirt to give the evening a sense of formality. Candles were lit, and he played a cassette tape mix of romantic but not cheesy love songs, and when Bruce Springsteen began to sing “Lonely Valentine,” David said, “You know what I like best about you?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t,” and smiled as she waited for his answer.

He smiled back for the longest minute. “Everything,” he finally said.

“That’s my favorite thing about you, too,” she said.

She knew when he took an uncomfortable breath. “Jill?” he said.

She waited.

He dropped to one knee, reached in his pocket, and presented her with a ring. “Will you marry me?”

And she dropped to her knees in front of him, said yes, unbuttoned his crisp shirt, and attacked him. And when they were done, they lay on the floor and he fed her the fettuccine they hadn’t finished at dinner.

Looking back, she wondered whether she would do it all over again, whether she would go through all the pain just to keep moments like those.

*   *   *

Mike worked on Valentine’s Day last year. He missed it. It was his last Valentine’s Day with his wife and he missed it. It fell during that window of time where he had known something was wrong but hadn’t known what she knew—that she was sick.

The night before Valentine’s Day, he took her out to dinner. She said she didn’t feel well. He thought she was just letting him know not to expect any sex.

The candles were lit. The wine was poured. It should have been romantic, but she was so distant. There was tension. He didn’t know why there was tension. He thought she was being passive-aggressive, and it irked him. He hadn’t even cared that he worked the next day, on the actual Valentine’s Day. He was glad, in fact. This was what he was thinking as he sat at the dinner table with her at Carlucci’s Italian Bistro on his wife’s last Valentine’s Day.

If he had only known. If he had only known, he could have softened her and comforted her the way he was able to after she finally told him. She went to her first two doctor’s appointments without him knowing. She didn’t tell him until the test results came back. She said she hadn’t wanted to scare him unnecessarily. Kate. She always thought she had to be so much stronger than she really did.

And if he had known, he could have appreciated the last Valentine’s Day they would spend together. He would have loved her as though there were no tomorrow instead of feeling irritated.

Now he hung his head in shame and his eyes began to fill. He stirred the spaghetti and tossed a salad. As someone who witnessed the fragility of life on an almost daily basis, he of all people should have known something about how delicate life was and how nothing should ever be taken for granted. He guessed that no one ever thought it was going to happen to them.

In the other room, Cassie sat at the dining room table decorating a Valentine’s Day cake she had made for him. He paused to watch her for a moment. She was pursing her lips like she always did when she was deeply focused on something. Kate used to do that, too. Sometimes Cassie resembled her so much. It was beautiful and painful all at once.

He stirred the sauce once more and then called out, “Okay, dinner’s on.”

She brought the cake back in, set it on the counter, and sang, “Ta-da!” as if it were magic.

“Oooo! It’s beautiful!” Mike said, appreciating not only her effort, but her stoic attempts not to keep crying about Socks. “That looks like the most delicious valentine ever!” He couldn’t change the past. The best he could do was simply not lose another opportunity to appreciate Valentine’s Day. “I am the luckiest dad,” he said.

Cassie beamed.

He looked at his beautiful little girl, all earnest, all heart, and he most certainly did feel like the luckiest dad.

*   *   *

Tom stopped by the grocery store on the way home. He needed beer, chicken, oatmeal, and a new razor. He put these things in a basket and then found himself in front of the Valentine’s Day cards, not really knowing why. He and Lisa hadn’t spoken since the kiss, and he doubted they would today. In fact, he was beginning to suspect that his friendship with her, as he had known it, anyway, was over. But if he was wrong, he didn’t want to be caught with nothing.

As he stood there, looking at lame card after lame card, he glanced up and saw Scooter walking toward him.

“Who are you getting a valentine for?” Scooter asked.

“Your mother,” Tom answered.

Scooter rolled his eyes. “Listen, bro, I have a request. May I please park my uncle’s travel trailer next to the Kennel, run an umbilical cord up to it for some power, and use your facilities so I don’t have to pump the tank?”

“Good job on the ‘may’ and ‘please,’” Tom said.