Page 63 of Ski You Later
Sleep was the last thing on my mind last night. After Roman walked me to my room and said goodnight, the only logical thing to do was join my friend’s downstairs and continue drinking.
It was later on, when I saw that Xander had wandered back downstairs, that I knew it was time to call it a night.
Surprisingly, I was one of the few athletes that retired early, and the blaring music did nothing to help aid in my sleep. From there my mind wandered, and all I could think about was Roman.
What will remain ingrained in my brain for the rest of my life is the feeling of him pressed up against me. The warmth radiating from him as every inch of our bodies touched and I just felt encompassed in a blanketof safety. I’ve never had that feeling before, not even for one second in my past relationship. The feeling of falling and knowing without a doubt he’ll be there to catch me.
The revelation of this caused even more turmoil to course through me, and then three hours of sleep later, I wasn’t the happiest of campers.
The entire team was plastered last night, so I fit right in with the crowds as we all groggily got ready for the race.
The only exceptions to the hungover roster on our team were Roman, Aurora, Rhys, and Calvin. They’re all on strict diets in the race season and won’t touch a drop of alcohol until the last race.
Turns out, I should’ve adopted their philosophy because then I might’ve been able to ski more than five gates. My race run ended before it even started really, the tip of my suddenly ski hooking inside the fifth gate, and brutally throwing me onto the ice.
Due to the length of giant slalom skis, they truly have a mind of their own and need to be controlled at all times. I lacked this control severely as my ski yanked me backwards, my whole body rotating to the side, and then everything came in contact with the hard ground.
As I lay upside down on the hard snow, my mind spins as I register the past couple seconds. I narrow myeyes in confusion as the world seems upside down, and then it all clicks into place.
I crashed. I crashed in the second race of the season and there’s no way for me to save it.
Pushing up from the hard ground, I look around in a daze and watch some course volunteers rushing towards me. Their volunteer tags blow in the wind as they surround my fallen form.
The left side of my face seemed to take the brunt of the fall, the ice being so cold it burns. Realizing I am still face first on the ground, I flip myself towards the downhill of the slope and carefully place my race skis on the sheet of ice. It’s surprising to see that I only have one ski on, and thank the volunteer that hands me my other one.
Getting up is easy enough, and I push myself up as I brush off all the concerned parents asking to take me to ski patrol. I can feel the bruise on my knees forming as I tuck my metaphorical tail between my legs and ski to the side of the course. Taking stock of myself quickly, I feel that my knees are slightly sore, and my head is throbbing but everywhere else feels fine.
I shake off the physical pain and try not to dwell on the hit my pride is about to take. It’s the second race of the season and I couldn’t even make it five gates. Ican’t help but repeat my failure as I kick myself on such a stupid mistake.
Roman cheered for me at the start, and probably raced to the bottom to watch the end of my run. Him and the rest of the team will all be there as they announce my DNF.
It’s not that I actually thought I would win, but Roman’s words just instill so much confidence in me. Even though it’s stupid, a tiny part of myself thought I could do it. Although, spending the night before drinking my brains out wasn’t the best choice if that was my goal. Roman’s words just stuck to me like loose glitter, the only way I could think to get rid of it was to drown myself.
Messing up on a run is one thing, but making a silly mistake that takes you out of the race entirely. I am going to get a talking too about this one. I slowly slip down the side of the course, sticking close to the netting that encompasses the whole race. The volunteer waves me down once I get over one of the small pitches and pulls the netting aside for me. I see concern light up his face for a second, but I just wave and ski past him.
Skiing one run over from the racecourse is the ski racer equivalent of the walk of shame. Wearing yourfull race suit and bib outside the course is as good as wearing a cape that read, I FAILED.
It isn’t until I reach the rest of the team at the bottom of the course that I really have to fight back the tears. Aurora turns around at my approach, striding to my side and wrapping me in a bear hug. My best friend is exactly what I need with her comforting presence threatening to unleash those tears I am keeping at bay.
Race day is always operating at such high intensity, and the emotions swirling in my system demand to be released. Her embrace seems to intensify the pounding in my head, but I brush it aside in favour of comfort from my favourite person.
The few tears I allow myself to shed freeze to my skin before they become visible, so I’m just not going to count those ones. Anyway, having frostbite on my eyes is more preferable than having the others see me cry. Aurora’s hold on me tightens when a sniffle escapes, and she rubs my back lovingly.
After another minute of comfort, I pull away from my best friend, and try my best to put a smile on my face. “Alright, enough of this. It isn’t a big deal,” I say dismissively. Keeping my head down more due to embarrassment that anything else.
I turn to look at the trees while I compose myself and ask how her run went. “I pushed really hard that run and I won again.” Her words bring the first feeling of joy to my face and I turn to her and give a congratulations.
I watch an array of emotions filter over her face from joy, to shock and finally landing on concern. “Rhodes, oh my gosh. Are you okay? I didn’t know you were injured!” She yells and I don’t miss the multiple heads that turn our way.
Confusion wrinkles my brow as I look at her and the fear on her face starts to spread to me. Grabbing her goggles on the rim of her helmet, I gently direct them down and my eyes widen as I look at the mess that is my face.
The adrenaline must have been blocking out this pain, but as I glimpse the blood that covers the left side of my face in a sticky mess. Thinking back to it, I hit the ground hard with my elbows and knees, but the left side of my face took the rest of the crash.
Lightly tapping that side, I wince slightly at the throb I feel there, but I’m pretty sure that it is a surface wound. The wave of dizziness I feel immediately after is more concerning, but I can’t help and fixate on the fact that I’ll have scabs all over my face. I guess it’s just therisks of being an athlete, but I’m just thankful the wedding is still over a month away.
As I release Aurora’s helmet, I’m about to tell her it’s fine and I’m in basically no pain, when someone shouts my name from close behind me.
Rushing over, his ski boots eats up the distance between us, and Roman’s face is alive with worry. His rushed walk turns into a flat out run as he notices the red that takes up the entirety of my cheek and chin.
