Page 63 of See You Next Winter
My flight home connectsvia Paris, but the pain I felt on that first short flight gave me all the clarity I needed.
Kayla is right, as usual. Telling her she means the world to me doesn’t mean shit if I’m following it up with a tearful goodbye.
She was quiet for most of the drive and dropped me off outside the airport without even saying‘see you next winter’. She’s protecting herself, I get it, but I never want my last memory to be of her turning away from me.
While waiting to board my connecting flight, I call the one person who can always figure things out in a crisis.
“Oh, finally he deigns to grace us with a phone call,” Dad says. “What happened to our dinner last week?”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I wince. “I flew out early to see Kayla. Couldn’t wait.”
“That’s alright, son, Hannah told me. Kayla doing OK?”
“Yeah, she’s great. Listen, I don’t have long because I’m about to board my flight back to L.A., but I’m calling because I need a job. In London. As soon as possible.”
“Well, you’re a degree or two short for anything I could offer you, I’m afraid,” he laughs.
“Not a law job, obviously, but anything in television or film. I’ll reach out to contacts on the flight home, but can you please do me a favour and do the same? Literallyanything, Dad. I’m desperate.”
“Of course, son. I’ll put some feelers out,” he says, his voice growing concerned. “What’s going on? Are you in trouble?”
“I’m coming home.”
Home means nothing, if Kayla isn’t part of it. I might not be able to move my work to the mountains, but I’ll move it as close as possible if it means more time with her.
Word spreads fast, and by the time I’m in my seat, Cameron has emailed me a link to check out.
Subject:Job idea?
Chapter 49
Kayla
By late September, thesummer vacation crowds have gone, though car rallies and mountain bike races still bring people to the area on weekends. Hiking tours will slow down until the snow comes again in late November, which gives me a couple of months to unwind after a busy summer, and start preparing for next winter.
There’s barely been a moment to stop and reflect on how far I’ve come this year, certainly not while my head and my heart have spent most of it obsessing over Ryan.
My calendar is already two-thirds full for winter, with off-piste ski touring, some family lessons, and a couple of weekends volunteering as a marshal for a freestyle ski and snowboard tournament. A few friends from Edinburgh have booked flights to come and crash with me for long weekends, too.
There’s so much to look forward to, I’m not even worried about whether Ryan comes home this winter. We’ve exchanged a few texts since he flew home in July, but things aren’t the same anymore. I haven’t asked about this December, and he hasn’t mentioned it. Turns out being friends with benefits isn’t sustainable long term, and honestly, it would probably be for the best if he didn’t come.
We gave it our best shot, with the time we could spare for each other, and it didn’t work out. There’s no shame in that, but there’s also no point wasting another year of my life on the impossible. A winterwithout him would give me a proper chance to move on and think about what I really want from this next decade of my life.
Soon the mountain resorts will be full of the next generation of energetic, young seasonnaires, ready to make new friendships and memories. The memories typically last longer than the friendships, thanks to the transient nature of the work.
Nothing is ever really permanent around here, and part of me wonders what it would be like to have that kind of reliability in my life.
I’m almost thirty. I can’t be crawling bars and running pickup games forever. The guys who move here long term usually bring a girlfriend, a dog, and a campervan with them.
I don’t even know why I’m thinking about men. I don’t need them. Not a single one of them, especially with a box of toys underneath my bed, and a stack of romance novels to make up for their failings.
Love wasn’t what brought me here, anyway. I moved here for me, because the mountains have always been the place I felt happiest, because the first run of the day will wake you up quicker than any cup of coffee. I moved here because even on cold dark days where the snowfall is so thick you can’t see the other side of the slope, I feel like I’m part of something bigger. Something special.
No two days are alike, and getting to see the mountain in her ever-changing glory is a gift. Every ascent and descent has something new to admire. Every client brings their own stories and experiences, and all of them make my life even richer.
The biggest benefit of living here year round is getting to enjoy the full four seasons of food on offer. In summer I eat a lot of fish and grains, but these cooler days have me craving something rich and hearty, a dish I can make and enjoy over a few evenings on the sofa with a good book.
There’s a bigger supermarket twenty minutes drive down the mountain, but I like to get what I can from our local greengrocer, butcher, and bakery. I choose freshgirollesandcèpesmushrooms, the first of the season, a bag of risotto rice, and a bulb of garlic the size of my fist. Early squash will make an excellent soup if I roast them with olive oil and thyme, and I need nothing more than plump, ripe pears to sink my teeth into for pudding.
