Page 53 of Yours Temporarily

Today, I’ve learned more than to navigate the slopes—I’ve also embraced the beauty in striving and in falling and rising again. So surely, I’m ready for the more challenging slopes of our relationship.

CHAPTER 20

Jeremy

The three-story ski cabin has always been a hub of friends and family memories, and the chatter now with a group of eighteen brings it to life again. Whether Mom had hidden motives this time or not, most of us enjoy skiing. Our family’s love for the outdoors and the sport had Dad buying this small ski resort that provides no public housing accommodations, just a lodge that sells merch, rents ski gear, and offers hot food and drinks.

We’re still sitting around the table after the dinner and dishes are cleared. Even Sonya and her folks and three of Mom’s friends with their daughters remain. Pity their sons couldn’t join—seems they’ve got better things to do than hang around being micromanaged by their moms. In this miniature society, the men, much like my dad, bring in the dough, but the women command the home.

I’ve claimed a place at the end of the long table with my dad, brother, and Aunt Patty. She’s making us laugh as she talks about my cousin, Trent’s latest adventures with the tractor shows he hosts on the farm. “He’ll be here on Thursday if he can find someone to watch his unruly dog.”

“I haven’t seen him in ages.” I muse aloud. Our last squabble—something trivial about Mom—flits through my mind. Trent always had a rebellious streak, opting for starting a band after high school. That didn’t pan out, but teaching music in their small Oklahoma town makes him happy.

“What do you mean Trent is coming?” Mom’s voice pulls me back as she peers past the trio separating her from her sister. Mom’s always alert, taking in everyone’s conversation if she’s not too busy directing the conversation.

“He knows how you like a definite answer, and he wasn’t sure.” Aunt Patty lifts her Diet Pepsi, her preference over the wineglasses most women her age have in front of them. “But he wants to be here for his cousin’s wedding.”

“Not when he didn’t respond to the invitation.” Mom speaks over the people next to her. “Where’s he going to stay?”

“There’s still three vacant rooms he can stay in.” When Dad soothes things over, Mom’s glare has his shoulders drooping. Clearing his throat, he turns his gaze back to Aunt Patty. “Sara knows what’s best, of course.”

I grit my teeth over how my father always has to play along with Mom’s plans. For this, I’m grateful Sonya ended things with me. I wouldn’t want to be in Dad’s position where my opinions don’t count in my own home.

“He can stay at my house.” Gavin raises his hand, clearly eager to put an end to this dilemma.

My gaze drifts past the two people separating me from Zuri. She and Hope are deep in conversation. Hope leans her head back and laughs at whatever Zuri is telling her, her laugh exuberant, her emotions seeming so much larger than she is, and my chest expands seeing Zuri relaxed. Her articulate hands speak along with her, her curls shake around her full cheeks, and her eyes shine. What’s she talking about? Is it her mishaps on the slopes?

I’d opted out of skiing today so Zuri could have her first lessons on the slope with less terrain. She preferred to go with a trainer, afraid to disappoint me in case she didn’t grasp skiing. I’m still impressed by how fast she embraced the slopes. My only frustration earlier was Sonya constantly appearing at my side and reminiscing about our past.

As people start leaving the table, I look forward to hanging out with Zuri for whatever time we can get before bed, but she and Hope move off to help the workers tidy up the kitchen. Some people scatter off to the main room. Others linger by the fireplace seating area with the mountain view. Sonya and Gavin’s ex, Lucky, remain by the kitchen table, their laughter loud as they chat with the other women their age. Gavin and I join our girls in the kitchen, rinsing plates, loading the dishwasher, and sweeping with the workers.

“I’m sorry. Did I miss a spot with the mop?” The woman’s heavy Hispanic accent obscures her words, but the concern knitting her brow as she scans the crumbs I'm sweeping from the already mopped floor—makes her meaning clear.

I stop to smile at her. “You’ve done a fantastic job.”

Zuri, unable to hold back her amusement, playfully tosses a kitchen towel my way. “Leave it to Mr. Detail, and we’ll be here all night.”

“I just love cleaning,” I assure the woman. Truth is, seeing any remnants on what’s supposed to be a clean surface bothers me.

After cleanup, Dad asks us to join him for a round of pool in the game room. So, while Gavin and Hope play shuffleboard, I play pool with Dad, and Zuri watches, cheering for my dad when she realizes he’s losing.

“Traitor!” I whisper in her ear as I chalk my stick.

She covers her mouth, but she can’t stifle her chuckle. It blends with the hum as a dozen of us engage in various table games.

“At least someone’s on my side.” Dad nods at Zuri, his gray-streaked hair fluttering with the movement.

I win and reassemble the balls in the triangle.

“I think I have a chance of beating Gavin,” Dad says.

“I’ll beat Jeremy for you.” Zuri rests her hand on my back, and her eyes sparkle beneath the recessed lights. “As long as we play Ping-Pong.”

With Gavin stepping in to challenge my dad at pool, Zuri and I pivot to the Ping-Pong table. Her confidence with the paddle and her precise shots catch me unexpectedly.

“Forehand smash!” she exclaims over the murmur and the thwack of balls hitting each other on the tables. Her paddle slices through the air, and the ball zips past me. I scramble to counter, but she’s in her element.

“Spin shot,” she calls out next, her wrist flicking in a way that makes the ball dance unpredictably on my side of the table. Each term she uses, each move she makes, is a revelation.

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