Chapter 16: Jo Beth

Jo Beth and Magda took their customers on adrenaline-filled day trips and the season passed quickly, in constant bursts of color. They clung to bright orange rafts as they faced down the rapids of the Maipo River, they zip lined over the deep green trees along the Cajon del Maipo, and they paraglided across the turquoise sea. For Jo Beth, it was as good a rush as skiing, but without the anxiety. Life would have felt almost peaceful in its excitement, except for the explosive arguments she had with Magda. Jo Beth had never met anyone who could hold her own in a conflict the way that Magda could. The two of them were well and truly matched.

“We need to upgrade,” Magda told Jo Beth “We can’t compete without the best equipment possible.”

“We just bought new equipment,” Jo Beth responded. “I’m not spending thousands more on one of your whims.”

“Then you’re okay with failing?” Magda’s voice grated like copper against steel. “Jo, if you’re not careful, you’ll be nothing but a burnout, and no one will respect you.”

Jo Beth ignored the verbal slap’s sting. “So? At least I’m not mooching off someone else’s money.”

“You’re too cautious and you’re too cheap!”

“And you’re a bitch.”

Magda responded with a delighted smile. Too late, Jo Beth remembered that Magda liked being called a bitch, which made Jo Beth entirely unoriginal for calling her one. Later, Jo Beth told Mitch all about it.

“I can’t believe your friendship has lasted this long,” Mitch said. “Magda knows how to play dirty. It’s why I couldn’t stay with her.”

“But I invented playing dirty,” Jo Beth replied.

“That’s what you think.” He smiled, and as always, it was like his cheeks had been smooshed down with a halo. “But you’re wrong. The two of you have begun mirroring each other, repeating each other’s patterns, and making it impossible to tell who’s in back and who’s in front.” They were in bed, and he laid his arm across her stomach. “You don’t have to put up with her. Come back to Portillo with me for the ski season.”

She snuggled against him and pulled the covers up to her chin. When the sun went down across the mountains it turned cool, sometimes dipping down thirty degrees past the warmest moment of the day. It wasn’t yet winter but the wind rattled their window and Jo Beth burrowed her face into the curve of Mitch’s neck, trying to feel safe. When it was just him and her, she believed that he could protect her, that they could protect each other.

“I’ll come with you to Portillo,” she said. “I think it will be good for Magda and me to take a break.”

Yet Magda was always around. She’d apologize for their latest conflict and then insert herself into the daily life Jo Beth shared with Mitch. Often, she would show up unannounced and always she would find Mitch before she found Jo Beth.

“Magda’s staying with us tonight,” Mitch would say. He said it a lot.

She was constantly sleeping on their couch after a day of hitting the slopes, and when the three of them ate dinner, she and Mitch would fall into Spanish, their conversation flying over Jo Beth’s head. “Speak English!” she’d demand. “You’re both from Florida.”

Mitch always laughed in response. “Sorry, Hon. I’ve spent so much time speaking Spanish I guess it’s become second nature.” Then they’d return to their native language.

Jo Beth had packed her bags several times, had written more than one goodbye note that she’d placed on Mitch’s pillow for him to find after he returned from a day of teaching ski school, but some invisible force always made her turn around, rip up the note, and berate herself for thinking she could hitchhike out of Portillo. Where would she go once she was back in the city? Besides, she’d still be the seriously flawed Jo Beth no matter where she went. She would still feel guilty for betraying her sister all those months ago and she’d still have nothing more than athletic skill to put on her resume. Skiing was all she had left and it was time to get back to it.

Most afternoons, it was her skis against the snow. She burned tracks down the white mountain, inhaling the icy air and blinking behind her goggles. In winter, the hours were stretched-out and dusky. She could lose her sense of time, as if emerging from a darkened movie theater in the middle of the day, surprised to find that it was still light outside. Because of this, somehow it became possible to forget her worries, to forget the sinking feeling she had every evening, until right before she opened the door to their studio apartment. Would she find Mitch and Magda together, naked and in bed, giving in to their most primitive, animal instincts? One time, the porn movie in her head was particularly aggressive; it kept playing outrageous Mitch-and-Magda-sex-scenes, and no matter how many times Jo Beth tried to press pause, it kept going. Then, right before she opened the door, she heard laughter. Magda was squealing.

“No!” she cried, clearly implying ‘yes.’ “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, I think I can.” More laughter from them both.

She stood outside, listening, almost hoping for some tangible evidence that she could hurl back into their faces.

“Mitch, that’s so unfair!”

“Who ever said that I play fair?”

Blood was pounding in Jo Beth’s ears and she could see the blood, their blood, blood that she would draw.

She turned the knob and entered. Magda and Mitch were sprawled on the floor, a stack of playing cards between them. Magda was wearing one of those off-the-shoulder sweatshirts with nothing underneath, and the way she sat gave Mitch a perfect view of her bare chest. Mitch had on a button-down flannel shirt with the top three buttons undone. Both wore tussled hair, satisfied smiles, and an air of gratification.

When they looked up and saw her, they didn’t even bother to act self-conscious. “Hey, Hon,” Mitch said. “We’re playing gin rummy, but if you want to play, we can switch to hearts.”

She stormed over and stomped on the cards that lay on the floor. She kicked and ground her heel into a queen’s face, which was a poor substitute for digging her heel into Magda’s face, but oh well. She spun around. “Shouldn’t you be running day trips in Santiago? What’s the deal, Mags? Incapable of doing anything by yourself?”

“You know this is the off season,” Magda snipped.

“What I know is that you’re screwing my boyfriend.”

“Jo!” Mitch yelled. She turned toward him.

“Never mind,” she said. “She can have you.”

Jo Beth crossed over to their one closet and with shaking hands, pulled down her duffel. “I’m done,” she said. “I can’t stand living here, dying of boredom, while you two are fucking each other.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Magda said. Jo Beth had to ignore Magda; otherwise she would be lunging forward and strangling her.

Mitch got up, took two large steps to get to Jo Beth, and tried to take the duffel bag from her hands. She yanked it back and resisted the urge to whip it across his face, to mark his beautiful complexion with canvas burns and zipper scrapes. “If you try to stop me, I’ll scream.”

He spoke to Magda. “Do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Magda instantly jolted up, put on her boots, and grabbed her coat. “Sure thing.”

“Sorry,” Mitch said to her.

“If you apologize to her again, I’ll kill you both.”

They shrank back at the severity of Jo Beth’s words, or maybe it was the utter seriousness with which she spoke them. Whatever. She had made her point and Magda silently left their apartment without a second glance.

“What is wrong with you?” Mitch demanded.

“I think I made myself pretty clear.”

“There’s nothing going on between Magda and me!”

“I’m not an idiot, Mitch!” She turned back towards the closet, grabbing shirts, sweaters, and jeans to stuff into her bag.

“You’re imagining things, Jo. I’d never cheat on you. Please believe me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I love you! And because….” He sighed. “Look, don’t freak out, but around this time of the month, don’t you get a little paranoid?”

She froze at his suggestion. Normally the very implication would make her livid but her brain was racing too fast to register any more anger.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had her period.