Page 29 of Saving Mr. Bell

“Guilty. That, and take you somewhere you can’t get your cock out unless you want it to turn into an icicle.”

Once we’d cleaned the dust and cobwebs off the sledge, it became apparent that it wasn’t just in good nick, but that it was fairly new. If someone had ever used it, it couldn’t have been more than once or twice. It was a decent size as well, and a proper wooden one with tracks rather than the plastic tray ones I’d used as a kid during the rare times in England when the weather gods had granted enough snow to make it viable.

I’d bundled up in Arlo’s clothes again, the walk to the hill farther than the previous day’s jaunt in search of a tree. It was a perfect winter’s day, the sky a deep blue and the sun appearing for the first time since we’d been here. If it had stopped snowing, and the sun was out, that meant the snow would melt, the thought a discomfiting one.

How long did it take for roads to become passable again once the thaw set in? A day? A couple? Longer? If today’s revelation about the way my career was being handled had shown anything, it was that stopping still for ten minutes without taking mind-altering substances was useful. And now I wanted more time. And yes, I wanted to explore this thing between me and Arlo, last night’s kiss still very much at the forefront of mymind, even if he seemed determined to act like it had never happened.

“Hill,” Arlo announced completely unnecessarily, especially accompanied by a point as it was.

“Wow! Is that what it is? I thought we’d stumbled across a slumbering dinosaur covered in snow.”

Arlo laughed. “Well, if it is, I’m still going to slide down his back after all the effort of cleaning the sledge up and walking here.”

“His? That’s very sexist of you. It might be a lady dinosaur.”

“Their back. There you go. I’ve covered all bases, whether they’re male, female, or non-binary. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” I said non-ecstatically as I eyed the hill. It was steeper than I’d imagined when Arlo had described it, which was both good and bad. Good for sledging, but not so great for getting up there. But then I guess it was a suitable metaphor for life that anything worth having you had to work for. At least that’s what I’d told myself during the hours of practice at the piano that had left my fingers sore.

Arlo went first, which meant I had a bit of a wait while he trudged up the hill, the trip strenuous enough that he had to pause to get his breath back a few times. It probably didn’t help that I shouted comments critiquing his efforts that usually ended in “old man” after him, safe in the knowledge he wouldn’t waste energy by coming back down to remonstrate with me.

His descent down the hill gathered speed quickly, Arlo clinging on for dear life as the sledge showed no mercy in tossing him into the air every time it hit a bump. There were a few moments where I thought he might come off, but he always righted himself. He was laughing and breathless when he finally came to a stop a few meters away at the bottom of the hill. “Now that,” he shouted, his cheeks red from excitement and exertion, “was worth the climb.”

And then it was my turn. After the flak I’d given Arlo, there was no way I was going to stop for a breather on the way up. Thankfully, gym visits and dancing in various nightclubs around the world—probably more the former, if I was honest—had provided me with decent endurance. So although I was out of breath and my legs were burning by the time I reached the summit, I hadn’t stopped.

It seemed even higher now I was up here, Arlo looking impossibly tiny from where he waited at the bottom, shading his eyes against the sun. I realized I should have brought my phone with me, that perhaps there might have been a chance of getting a signal up here. Oh well, too late now.

Positioning the sledge carefully took effort. You wanted it close enough to the edge that it took little effort to go over, but not so close gravity took the decision of when that happened out of your hands.

I took a moment to enjoy the view and the quiet before pushing off. And then there was no changing my mind, even if I wanted to. The world blurred in a rush of white and blue, icy wind nipping at my cheeks as I gathered speed. I hit a bump, my stomach lurching and my gloved fingers wrapping tighter around the sledge. Laughter bubbled up, wild and uncontrollable, as the sledge veered right, the ground dropping away beneath me.

Why hadn’t I done this since I was a kid? I went to countries all the time where snow was plentiful. Why had I been getting drunk in nightclubs and picking up random men when I could have been doing this instead? What was the point of being financially solvent if I never took time to enjoy the simpler things in life? Like beautiful views and the feel of adrenaline coursing through my body. Sure, there was adrenaline when I was on stage. The nerves that came from the pressure of giving agood performance never went away, and probably never would, but it wasn’t this. This joy. This freedom.

My arrival at the bottom of the hill was far less controlled than Arlo’s, the sledge hitting a bump extreme enough that even my firm grip didn’t stop me from separating from it. I tumbled from it and rolled, my limbs at the mercy of momentum. The snow crunched as hurried footsteps came my way, reaching me just as I rolled onto my back and spat snow out. When I opened my eyes, Arlo was looming over me with a look of concern. “Rudolf? Are you okay?”

I smiled up at him, this man that I knew but didn’t know. “I… have never been better.” I moved my arms and legs in a coordinated movement. “Snow angel,” I announced with utmost seriousness.

There was a moment where Arlo eyed me like he thought I might have a concussion before he started laughing. He fell in the snow next to me and we carried on laughing while we made snow angels together.

It took one more trip each before we worked out that the sledge was plenty big enough for two. Traveling down together cut out one person having to get cold while they waited at the bottom, as well as meaning we got to share the experience. And I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy sitting between Arlo’s legs with him wrapped around my back. We tried it the other way round on one trip, but quickly reached the conclusion when we ended up marooned halfway down the slope while the sledge continued to the bottom, that, out of the two of us, Arlo was far better at steering and controlling the sledge, as much as anyone could control it, anyway.

I lost count of the number of trips up the hill we made, the payoff significant enough that even as our energy waned, we still kept doing “one more.”

Chapter Twelve

Arlo

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed a day as much as this one, something about watching Rudolf laugh and joining in with it, a tonic money couldn’t buy. I realized on our fifth, or maybe it was our sixth, trip down the hill that while I might have told Rudolf he needed a break, that I’d been an accidental hypocrite in not realizing I needed one too. What with the breakup of my marriage and making three full-lengthdocumentaries this year, I’d been just as much of a workaholic as he had. I’d just done it with less alcohol and drugs. I wouldn’t include sex on that list because, as I’d told Rudolf the previous night, Bruno and I hadn’t been lacking in that department during the first few months of our relationship before things went wrong.

“One more?” Rudolf asked as he lay panting next to me, our shoulders touching.

I imagined the trek up the hill, my thighs already so sore that walking tomorrow would no doubt prove quite the trial. I shook my head. “No, I’m done. I’m liable to collapse halfway up if I go up again. You can, though.”

Rudolf struggled to his feet and eyed the hill. “No. I think I’m done as well. We must have been up there a squillion times.”

“At least.”

Rudolf held out his hand, and I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. With his eyes shining and his cheeks flushed, he couldn’t have looked happier. And it made me happy. There was something else as well, something that made me smile. I tapped his nose with my index finger. “Your nose is red.”

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