Language
Pen
FUCK
June
That would be great
Me
Not a sure thing, we’re still figuring out plans. Will let you know.
Mom messages me separately and there’s no avoiding answering her.
Mom
Your father’s had a hard time getting a hold of you. Please try to find some time to call him back.
Me
I’ll try.
I barely have time to press send before a Pen’s contact photo floods my screen with a FaceTime call. In her contact picture, she’s asleep in one of the lodge’s overstuffed chairs, hot chocolate staining her mouth, her honey-brown hair plastered to her head from wearing her helmet all day.
“You’re dating someone! Please tell me she’s cool and really into galleries or something so I can visit and do something interesting,” she chimes. “And why is this the first I’ve heard of this?
It’s late in Chamonix, but Pen is one of those people who sleeps at odd hours, crashing for naps between incredible bursts of high energy. I think part of it is that she’s never in the same time zone for long. She’s sponsored by the energy drink company BLITZ, and is in a constant cycle of being the subject of their high octane extreme sports content. She also competes at national and international levels, but her one true love is adrenaline.
“It’s new. I’m only bringing it up to help with planning.” And if by some miracle Henri replies, I want to start hinting at the relationship now. It’s one of the things she mentioned during the interview, creating some sort of believable history to sell the date. I also like talking about her with someone other than Jasmine.
“Have you told June already?” Pen hates being left out, always has. When we were younger, she always insisted on coming with us to the more challenging runs, which has led to Mom now blaming us for Pen’s extreme sports career.
June and I always have been the closest because we both specialized in Alpine Skiing and are only a year apart in age. And with Pen being five years younger than me and primarilysnowboarding, I rarely trained with her before I quit entirely. Plus, there’s something about going through life with someone, experiencing nearly the same things as them, that creates an undeniable bond. Still, after I quit skiing and moved away for college, that bond has been tested constantly.
“This is the first time I’m talking about it with any of you.”
“Good. Send me a picture. I want to see what she looks like.”
“Fine. Just don’t be weird about it. She’s private. Doesn’t have social media or anything,” I say.
Scrolling back through the photos from the other night, I select one of Henri in the red formal dress, draping limbs dramatically over a clothing rack. From a technical standpoint, the lighting is terrible, all coming from dim floor lamps that cast diffuse shadows. But Henri makes the photo phenomenal. Her blonde bob is messy from a long day, chocolate brown eyes rimmed with smudged mascara locked on me, and a casual smile teases her lips as she talks.
It’s the type of photo you find in a shoe box decades later and remember what it was like to be young.
Pen lets out a whistle of appreciation. “Shit. She’s hot. Does she smoke? She looks like she smokes skinny cigarettes and tells people they’re pretty in bar bathrooms.”
“She doesn’t smoke.” I have no idea but it’s a safe bet after not seeing any evidence of it. But the question tugs at a part of me that wants to know. Wants to see if after a night out she’ll take a cigarette if offered. “And she’s nice. She really likes to understand people—cares about strangers more than most people do.” This I know for sure.
“You have to bring her. I’m going to teach her to snowboard, since you’re out of practice and June is too uptight to teach her how to ski without scaring her off.”
I wince at the reminder. I haven’t been on the slopes much since my ACL tear at sixteen, only going out once or twice eachtime I visit to scratch an itch. Before then I was on track with June to go pro, I practically lived in the snow. Sportscasters ate it up—siblings destined for greatness to keep your eye on. Rising stars.
A new call from Jasmine comes onto my phone and I release a sigh of relief. “I bet she’d love that. Pen, I have to go. My roommate is trying to get a hold of me.”
I hang up and switch calls.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
