Page 7 of Christmas With My Ex

He nods, continuing to test the range of motion in my knee, watching my reactions closely. “You’re still able to move your knee, and while there’s pain, it’s not consistent with a full tear. You didn’t experience a complete ‘pop’ or collapse when I tested for instability. That’s usually a sign of a partial tear, but we can’t be certain without imaging. We will need an MRI to confirm whether it’s partial or full to be sure.”

I exhale slowly, processing the information. “And either way… no skiing, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You’re done skiing for this trip,” Dr. Harper says gently, pulling the compression wrap tighter around myknee. “Even with a partial tear, the ligament is weakened, and skiing could make it worse—potentially turning a partial tear into a full one."

"Ugh."

"Remember how you said that when you stood up, your leg gave out?"

"Yes," I say, nervous where he is going with this.

"Well, that is because of the trauma. You'll be able to stand again after a little rest, but if you try to ski or do anything even remotely gregarious on your feet, your leg will give out again like that. You’ll need rest, ice, and physical therapy to recover. No high-impact activities for a while.”

I bite back a groan, feeling the weight of those words. “So, what now? I’m supposed to be here until the 27th. How am I supposed to get around town?”

Dr. Harper gives me a sympathetic smile. “We’ll set you up with crutches, and you should be able to get around town that way. Most of Telluride is walkable, just be careful not to slip on any ice. If you need to go longer distances, there’s a shuttle service that can help. But you’ll need to keep your leg elevated when you're not moving and take it easy for the next few days. No unnecessary strain on that knee, I can't stress that enough.”

I nod, though it feels like all the excitement of this trip is draining out of me with every word that comes out of his perfect mouth. “So, crutches and sitting around for the rest of my vacation while the perfect peaks covered in pure powder taunt me. Great.”

Megan, who’s been listening nearby, steps forward with a reassuring smile. “It’s not the end of the world, Rives. A few days of rest and you’ll be back on your feet. Plus, there’s still plenty to enjoy in town even without skiing. Telluride is not only known for it's skiing, you know.”

“I guess so,” I mutter, trying to keep my frustration at bay. “Thanks, Doc.”

Dr. Harper stands up, making a final note on my chart. “I’ll write you a prescription for anti-inflammatories to help with the swelling. And if the pain worsens or you have any other concerns, come back in for a follow-up. We’ll also get that MRI scheduled to confirm the extent of the injury. If it shows a full tear we may have to amend things slightly, but for the most part, either way, you'll need to take it easy for the foreseeable future.”

I nod again, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in as he heads out. No skiing, no backcountry adventures, just me, a pair of crutches, and a whole lot of downtime in a snowy town until Friday.

Megan walks back into the exam room and hands me a set of hand crutches. I hate her for being the one to give them to me. Such a shame, she was such a nice girl.

“Here you go, ‘Rives, which rhymes with leaves,’” she says with a smile as if we are just exchanging numbers for a girl’s night. I know this isn’t the Christmas you might have hoped for, but if Dr. Harper is right, and he sees a lot of ligament tears, so I think he probably is, it could be worse. If you take care of yourself you’ll be back in action before you know it.”

“Yeah, but I won’t be in my favorite ski town. But there’s always next year, right?”

1:49pm

I stareout the frosted window as the Galloping Goose bus bumps along the quiet, snow-lined streets of Telluride. The town looks like something straight out of a Christmas postcard—twinkling lights hanging from every storefront, snow piled high on rooftops, and the occasional Christmas tree shining through windows. It’s the kind of place people dream about spending the holidays, and right now it feels like the absolutely worst place I could be.

The Goose, as the locals call it, is a free shuttle that loops through town every twenty minutes, ferrying people between the mountain and the quaint streets below.

It feels like such a small-town thing, so perfectly suited to this snowy wonderland. Normally, I’d be excited to hop on and take in the sights, jump on and off as I check out something new, but today… I can’t shake this dark cloud hanging over me.

Everything seems shitty.

Inside the bus, it’s warm, and I’m the only passenger. My thoughts churn as I look out at the falling snow, watching as it coats the town in a soft, white blanket. It's definitely coming down now as opposed to when I started the day at the top of the mountain. That seems like a million years ago at this point.

I feel so far from the rest of the world, wrapped in this bubble of quiet isolation. But instead of peace, all I feel is the weight of everything pressing down on me.

The injury. Losing Mom. Being here alone, far from anyone who knows me, dealing with this messed-up knee that in the best-case scenario, I have a partial ligament tear, and the worst-case scenario, could mean surgery.

The bus driver’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Long day?”

I glance up at her in the rearview mirror, surprised by the concern in her tone. Her friendly eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I consider brushing it off, but something in me wants to be honest. “Yeah,” I murmur. “You could say that.”

She gives a small nod, steering the bus through the snowy streets with a practiced ease. “Well, if you need a pick-me-up, I know a good spot. You heard of the Last Dollar Saloon?”

I nod vaguely. I’ve heard of it, but I haven’t been. I was supposed to be spending my days on the slopes, not sitting in dark bars.

“It’s a good place to unwind,” the driver continues, her voice cheerful. “Locals love it. Warm atmosphere, lots of good, local beer. Could be just what the doctor ordered.”

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