“You’re doing great!” Jon’s encouraging shout followed her down the biggest hill she’d ever seen.
Cripes, Mills. Cut it out. Your dad’s front lawn on Long Island has bigger hills. Yeah, she was exaggerating in her head, her heart, and her stomach. In what felt like hours, she had fallen on her well-padded bottom countless times. And these boots. Who designed these torture tools? The minute she slid her feet into their tilted confines she had been off balance. But Jon had been a loyal cheerleader every step of the way. Literally. Holding her elbow when she tried walking from the bench in the rental area to the doors leading to the mountain, keeping her from face planting on the nasty industrial carpet each time she tried putting her toes down first, instead of doing the silly duck walk like everyone else. Hey. I’ve seen mallards in Central Park, ya know. That whole flat-footed number isn’t much use on ice. But nobody else could hear the voices in her head so she followed Jon’s instructions and clomped around like the rest of the ants crawling all over the place.
Just as Roni had managed to reach the bottom of the slope without falling down, she heard the high-pitched scream of a little person behind her.
“AAAAAH!”
Before she could react, her arms windmilled frantically, trying to keep her body upright while her feet remained anchored to unforgiving skis. Her torso flexed and bent out of control, weaving in a giant circle. She felt like one of the inflatable character punching bags her brothers had brutalized as pre-teens, except she was sure she looked more like a giant, red-nosed clown than an unshaven gangster wearing an eye patch.
“Uumph.” It was the only sound that came out of her when her well-waxed skis slipped, throwing her forward and face down into a surprisingly soft—and deep—pile of snow.
She lay there, motionless. No way. I cannot get up.
Roni felt a large pair of hands on her shoulders and a smaller pair pressing on her back.
“Roni?” She thought it was Jon’s voice, but the snow filled the gaps between her face and the helmet, blocking out most noise.
Tap. Tap. Tap. The small hands were doing some sort of hatchet work on her rib cage now. “Lady. I sorry. Lady?”
Suddenly, her snow-covered sunglasses were no longer pinching her cheeks while more than one pair of hands pulled her shoulders and hoisted her upright. The little ones were still on her, this time brushing wet snow from her belly and thighs.
“Are you okay?”
She turned toward Jon’s concerned voice and tried to smile. “I think so?”
“Well, you scared me and this little guy.” She looked down to see Jon tapping a shark fin attached to a blue helmet that couldn’t have been more than three feet off the ground. A second later, a pair of big, brown eyes squinted at her when the boy looked up.
“I’m sorry I crashed you. I go too fast.”
Roni noticed the trembling of his bottom lip when he pointed to a miniature set of skis upside down and crossed on the ground. “Don’t worry, Shark. I’ll be okay.” A beautiful smile caused his freckled cheeks to round upward into a cherubic smile. “But next time go slower so nobody gets hurt.”
The little boy nodded enthusiastically, “I will, lady.” Then, he turned toward the sound of a squawking adult standing at the top of the hill.
“Travis, are you okay?”
“Yes, Mom.” Travis stepped on Roni’s skis and bent to pick up his own. After that, he walked to the bottom of the conveyor belt that would take him to his mother.
“I think it’s time for a break. How about you?”
Jon’s words were so rich, she felt like he had offered her several million dollars. “Oh, yeah.”
“Let’s use the magic carpet there instead of you trying to walk.” He pointed to the same wide, black belt that had carried Travis up the hill.
Exhausted, thirsty, and a little shaken, Roni followed his lead without admitting to Jon that she wanted to be anywhere but where she was.
Cripes, Mills. Cut it out. Your dad’s front lawn on Long Island has bigger hills. Yeah, she was exaggerating in her head, her heart, and her stomach. In what felt like hours, she had fallen on her well-padded bottom countless times. And these boots. Who designed these torture tools? The minute she slid her feet into their tilted confines she had been off balance. But Jon had been a loyal cheerleader every step of the way. Literally. Holding her elbow when she tried walking from the bench in the rental area to the doors leading to the mountain, keeping her from face planting on the nasty industrial carpet each time she tried putting her toes down first, instead of doing the silly duck walk like everyone else. Hey. I’ve seen mallards in Central Park, ya know. That whole flat-footed number isn’t much use on ice. But nobody else could hear the voices in her head so she followed Jon’s instructions and clomped around like the rest of the ants crawling all over the place.
Just as Roni had managed to reach the bottom of the slope without falling down, she heard the high-pitched scream of a little person behind her.
“AAAAAH!”
Before she could react, her arms windmilled frantically, trying to keep her body upright while her feet remained anchored to unforgiving skis. Her torso flexed and bent out of control, weaving in a giant circle. She felt like one of the inflatable character punching bags her brothers had brutalized as pre-teens, except she was sure she looked more like a giant, red-nosed clown than an unshaven gangster wearing an eye patch.
“Uumph.” It was the only sound that came out of her when her well-waxed skis slipped, throwing her forward and face down into a surprisingly soft—and deep—pile of snow.
She lay there, motionless. No way. I cannot get up.
Roni felt a large pair of hands on her shoulders and a smaller pair pressing on her back.
“Roni?” She thought it was Jon’s voice, but the snow filled the gaps between her face and the helmet, blocking out most noise.
Tap. Tap. Tap. The small hands were doing some sort of hatchet work on her rib cage now. “Lady. I sorry. Lady?”
Suddenly, her snow-covered sunglasses were no longer pinching her cheeks while more than one pair of hands pulled her shoulders and hoisted her upright. The little ones were still on her, this time brushing wet snow from her belly and thighs.
“Are you okay?”
She turned toward Jon’s concerned voice and tried to smile. “I think so?”
“Well, you scared me and this little guy.” She looked down to see Jon tapping a shark fin attached to a blue helmet that couldn’t have been more than three feet off the ground. A second later, a pair of big, brown eyes squinted at her when the boy looked up.
“I’m sorry I crashed you. I go too fast.”
Roni noticed the trembling of his bottom lip when he pointed to a miniature set of skis upside down and crossed on the ground. “Don’t worry, Shark. I’ll be okay.” A beautiful smile caused his freckled cheeks to round upward into a cherubic smile. “But next time go slower so nobody gets hurt.”
The little boy nodded enthusiastically, “I will, lady.” Then, he turned toward the sound of a squawking adult standing at the top of the hill.
“Travis, are you okay?”
“Yes, Mom.” Travis stepped on Roni’s skis and bent to pick up his own. After that, he walked to the bottom of the conveyor belt that would take him to his mother.
“I think it’s time for a break. How about you?”
Jon’s words were so rich, she felt like he had offered her several million dollars. “Oh, yeah.”
“Let’s use the magic carpet there instead of you trying to walk.” He pointed to the same wide, black belt that had carried Travis up the hill.
Exhausted, thirsty, and a little shaken, Roni followed his lead without admitting to Jon that she wanted to be anywhere but where she was.
