Their conversations centered around high finance, politics, science, and other controversial issues are far from what she’s comfortable with. She can handle the dinner table talk at a party, but this is a family holiday, and everyone is close-knit, talking atthe same time and arguing fiercely. It’s easy to feel excluded.
Calypso comes from a wealthy background but is not close to her family. Her mother is gone, her father is on his third—or maybe fourth—marriage, and her brother is a distant presence she rarely sees.
She craves family, at least that’s what she tells me, which is why I thought she’d enjoy the Rousseaus for the holiday. But she’s struggling…or maybe she and I are. I’m comfortable here. This is my family. She’s the outsider.
I remember how Ember put it when I confronted her about how she talked to Calypso.
“Being new here must be difficult for her. I promise I’ll be friendly.”
That’s Ember, always generous. I haven’t heard Calypso say she’ll try to get along; she’s adamant thattheyhave to make the effort, regardless of her behavior. There is a lack of self-awareness that I didn’t notice before. I didn’t have the occasion to.
What do they say about familiarity breeding discontent?
“Well, I want to get back to my wife,” Aksel announces and looks at Freja.
She nods. “I’m tired. Still jet lagged. I could do with a nap.”
“We’ll join you,” Calypso says on a sigh. “I could do with a warm bath and some wine. What do you say, darling?”
I drag myself away from my reverie and smile at her. “I’m going to take a solo run. Take a bath and get some rest.”
“I was hoping we could take a bath together,” she says suggestively.
Freja rolls her eyes, and Aksel clears his throat.
Ember stands up and stretches. “I’m going to take the cross-country trail back to the chalet. Anyone want to join me?”
“Absolutely not,” Freja groans. “That thing’s practically a marathon—uphill climbs, narrow tracks, and no lift to save your ass. I’ll take gravity and mulled wine, thank you very much.”
“Well, save some mulled wine for me,” Ember says before she takes off. Not looking at me at all.
I jerk my chin at Calypso as I step away from the group, pretending to check my bindings.
“All okay?” she asks.
I straighten, and Ember’s statement that Calypso knew about us and her insinuation that I told her echo in my head. But now is not the time and place to ask Calypso about it.
“I need some time alone,” I tell her, my voice easy.
Hurt swarms in her eyes. I want to groan out loud and tell her to stop being so fucking needy.
“Are you…. Are you going afterher?”
Fuck me!She’s like a dog with a bone.
“Cali, I’m going to hit the slopessolo. You’ve got to stop this. It’s affecting your mood, and it’saffecting mine. You keep going like this, we’re both in for a fucked-up week and a half.”
She looks contrite and nods. Then goes on tiptoe and kisses me. “Have fun. I’ll see you back at home.”
Home?I don’t fucking think so.
“I’m off. I’ll see you guys at the chalet,” I call out to Aksel and Freja.
I head toward the lift station, the cold biting my face, my thoughts a storm under my helmet.
I don’t like the idea of Ember believing I revealed what we had—that secret thread that still tethers us, however faintly. Why would I? I haven’t told Calypso about every woman I’ve been with over the last five years.
But, then again….
