Chapter 23: Skylar

The weeks became a blur. I still studied and went to class, I still wrote, and I still spent time with Gavin, but that all was just noise, steps I took in normal footwear before I put my skis on so my real day could begin. I practiced whenever I could. I won all my competitions through Vista College Ski Team and then the skiing National Governing Board recruited me for Olympics training camp, which starts grooming athletes around two years in advance.

So, I said goodbye to Gavin as I left for Mammoth Mountain, California, to secure my spot in the next Olympics.

“I’ll call you later?” he asked as he dropped me off at the airport.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make sure that my cell is charged.”

Gavin leaned in for a kiss but before his lips reached mine I gave him a hug instead. I didn’t feel any romantic yearning, just a fierce foreboding of homesickness. Leaving him was the riskiest proposition of my life. I buried my face in his shoulder and kept it there, taking in his scent of nutmeg and pine, until he unwrapped my arms from around his shoulders. “You’re going to do great, you know,” he said.

“Thank you.”

I picked up my massive backpack and the bag with my ski gear, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and walked through the sliding doors of Denver International Airport. I didn’t consider that Gavin might suffer from our separation, that he, more than I, would need reassurance, so I offered him none. I barely even looked back to see him standing with his hands shoved into the pockets of his wool coat, still and stoic, while the rest of the world moved in a revolving hustle.

I waved, but I don’t think he saw, because he didn’t wave back.

Once I got to camp it took all my energy and focus just to function. The training schedule was insane, with little time to sleep and less time to breathe. Athletes from all over the country were there to compete for just a few spots on the Olympic team and the stress was so bad I could barely eat, and when I did, I’d have to run the bathroom twenty minutes later. My only cure for angst was to work it out on the slopes. I would crouch down, tuck my arms into my body, and imagine myself a bullet shooting down the mountain. I barely ever stood up straight or did anything to break my speed. At night, when I closed my eyes, it would feel like I was still racing down the slope, which gave me the sense of uneasy perpetual motion. Despite this, I was exhausted enough to find sleep and morning usually came way too soon.

One day I woke to the buzzing of my cell phone. “Good morning, Sweetheart.”

My stomach jumped. “Mom! It’s so early. Is something going on?”

She exhaled. “I wanted to let you know that I’m flying to Santiago in a couple of hours.”

“Huh?”

“Your sister called again last night and she didn’t sound good. I think it’s best if I fly out and see her.”

I turned on the lamp that sat on my nightstand, rubbed my eyes, and tried to adjust to wakefulness. “What do you mean, ‘she doesn’t sound good’? What did she say?”

“More paranoid stuff about Mitch and Magda wanting to harm her and the baby.”

As I sat up in bed, I was painfully reminded of my left hip muscle that I’d strained yesterday afternoon. Navigating moguls was going to be difficult today. “How do you know she’s being paranoid?” I asked. “What if Mitch and Magda really do have it out for her?”

“I seriously doubt that’s the case, Skylar.”

“I’ve met them, Mom. You haven’t. And you never want to believe Jo Beth about that stuff.” My training, my plans, my Olympic dreams: they all burst into a cloud of forgotten dust. “I’ll come to Santiago too.”

“No.”

“Mom, you know how worried I’ve been. Just give me time to pack.”

“Are you insane? You would blow your shot at the Olympics because Jo Beth is going stir-crazy?”

It wasn’t quite that simple. The intense competition, the constant anxiety, the everlasting aches and pains in muscles that I hadn’t even known existed: it was all starting to get to me and I wasn’t sure I could handle the pressure. Leaving now would give me an easy out.

Mom spoke with a measured tone. “Sky, honey, I’m not sure that Jo Beth wants to see you. You might do more harm than good.”

The sucker-punch of her words knocked the wind right out of me. I waited, but she wasn’t taking it back. “Think about it,” she said. “You’ve never been in better shape and you have all these opportunities just waiting for you. Jo Beth feels trapped. She IS trapped; she can’t go out, can’t exercise, can’t ski. You’ll remind her of everything she’s lost.”

“But that’s not my fault.”

Mom’s voice softened. “Of course, it’s not your fault, Honey. However, you need to work on your training. Let me worry about your sister.”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Okay.” Tears gathered behind my eyes but I sniffed them back. “I’ll stay.” I sniffed a little too loudly, for sure letting my mom know that she’d upset me. “Tell Jo Beth I love her.”