Page 2 of Christmas With My Ex

Then reality sets in—the reality that I'm stuck out her alone and things might be critically wrong with my body—and panic rises in my chest.

I blink up at the sky, the snow starting to fall harder now, swirling in the wind. My head is still spinning, but I grit my teeth and push myself to move.

My left leg screams in protest, but I don’t have time for pain. I have to get out of here.

I try to stand, leaning on my ski poles for support. The moment I put weight on my leg, a sharp, searing pain shoots up my entire body from my knee, and I collapse back into the snow.

Dammit.

I sit still for a second, breathing hard, trying to process the situation and figure out how I am going to get myself out of it. Maybe I just need a moment. It’s in shock.

I’ve been doing this long enough to know this isn't a simple injury, something is wrong with my knee or ankle or both. Really wrong. I can't tell which because both are throbbing.

Whatever the problem, my left leg won’t hold me. I glance around at the trees, the silence pressing in, and realize just how far out I am. Miles from the lodge. Miles from anyone. Suddenly, the solitude isn’t so amazing.

This was stupid. I should’ve stuck to the main trails. But now I’m here, alone, in the middle of nowhere, with a leg that won’t work. I pull out my phone from the breast pocket of my ski suit, already knowing I won't have any service, but I am hoping against all hope I'm wrong.

Fuck. Sure enough, zero bars. I dial 9-1-1 and hold my phone up in the air, but it’s hopeless.

For a second, I think about trying to ski down on one leg. I shake my head at myself. That’s ridiculous, Rives, even for you. There’s no way I’d be able to control my speed or navigate the steep turns. I’d probably end up making things worse, careening off into the trees or down a ravine.

Trying to crawl down, dragging my leg behind me, seems equally absurd. But I’ve got to do something.

I bite down on my lip, the fear creeping in. No one knows I’m out here. It’s times like these when the memory of my mother consumes me. It’s been almost four years since I lost her and when I get in a tough spot, my mind always turns to her. Not that she could help me right now if she were alive, but still, times like this are when the pain of her loss hits me more than ever.

I have no choice but to wait and hope someone else is out enjoying what started out as a perfect day.

As the wind picks up, swirling the snow around me, I realize the truth. There’s a good chance no one will come through at all.

11:01am

I don’t knowhow long I’ve been sitting here, but it feels like forever. The sun is almost directly overhead. My lips are getting chapped, even through the fleece gator covering my face.

I glance at my phone again, just in case, by some miracle,e a signal has appeared. Nothing. Same as the last ten times I checked. The little “No Service” icon taunts me, and I shove it back in my pocket with a frustrated sigh.

With a shaky breath, I reach into my jacket for the protein bar I stashed earlier. I tear it open, chewing slowly as I scan the horizon. The snow’s picking up now, soft flakes falling steadily, but the sky is still bright blue above. But I know the increased snow means the storm is getting closer.

I take another bite, trying to ignore the ache in my leg. The pain isn’t overwhelming when I’m sitting here, but the few times I’ve tried to put weight on it, it just gives out.

My body feels colder, even though my gear should be keeping me warm. It’s the kind of cold that creeps up on you when you’re sitting still for too long. I’ve inched down about a hundred feet using my arms and legs, but I know at that rate I wouldn’t get down before nightfall, long after the storm descends.

I look up at the trees, hoping to see movement—any sign of someone, anyone. A skier, a hiker, someone who might stumble upon me. But the woods are quiet. Peaceful, even, in that eerie way that tells you that you’re completely fucked.

The wind shifts, a little stronger now, and I feel a sharp edge of panic threatening to rise. Calm down, Rives. You’ve been in tough spots before. You’ll figure this out. “Please, God, don’t let this be the end,” I yell into the vast emptiness of the snow-covered mountain.

My eyes drift back to the horizon, scanning the ridge, praying for a miracle. Because that is what I'm going to need at this point.

11:13am

I almost can’t believeit.

The familiar sounds of this solitude are suddenly cut by the sound of skis cutting through the snow. This is by far the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. A rush of adrenaline consumes me and almost brings me to tears.

I can barely make out two figures coming down the mountain through the trees. They are moving fast, scissoring through the powder in my direction. Praise my guardian angel! A wave of relief washes over me, and I raise my arm, signaling them, waving and yelling like a crazy person.

"Help! Over here!"

One skier, a burly guy in a red jacket, turns his head to me and beelines it over here. He reaches me first, pulling to a stop with an easy, practiced motion. I recognize his clothing as being an employee of the mountain.

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