The mine fire in the 90s caused the shutdown of Sage Mountain which had started as a coal town in the early 1900s and remained our sole industry. Prior to that, the town was alive with miners and the blaring of train horns. My grandparents had moved there in the forties when they were first wed. My grandfather initially started working for the railroad, but the coal industry brought him on at a much higher wage. The labor was demanding and filthy, and my grandparents had always pushed my father to pursue his genuine passion beyond the mines.
In his youth, my father went to play with a classmate over a weekend, and that’s when he first experienced skiing. A Norwegian instructor taught lessons, and my grandparents complied. My father took every chance to ski from then on until he was drafted into the military. But fate had other ideas, and after basic training, the right person saw his nameand assigned him to be a ski instructor for the military recreation camp. It was more than fate; it was my father’s destiny to ski. And he did, soon after reaching the peak where he was the instructor for the US Ski team. From there, he won championships in downhill racing, and he had the fame and glory of a prime athlete of his day when he won the Gold Medal in the Olympics.
This was all before he met my mother, who had been decades his junior, and I came very late in his life—just the one child, which my therapist would point out that it made me put more undue pressure on myself for success, but I felt less. I knew if I had an ultra-successful sibling, I’d feel even worse about my stagnant course.
Having surpassed my thirtieth birthday, work troubles, and being single again, I felt overwhelmed. The year before at the same time, before Theo dumped me, I had hoped by my next birthday that I’d be married, or, at the very least, have a ring on my finger. Instead, I found myself back to square one with the dreaded soon-to-be realities of starting over in the dating world, sprinkled with the loneliness of the impending winter season without a plus one. But just the thought of that made my stomach churn. I had already metthe perfect guy, or so I thought. Theo was handsome and athletic… And the exact guy I wanted my father to see me with. I stopped myself with the thought,Wait a minute. Did I really just think that?
The revelation of my subconscious sent me down a spiral for the rest of the evening. Had I even liked Theo? Sure, he was astonishingly good-looking… much more so compared to realistic standards. I felt like the lucky one when we were out in public. But he knew it, too. He’d spend hours at the gym lifting weights in front of a mirror. He’d wear clothing that was just a littletoofitted, and I’d often joke he was the inventor of the selfie. His cologne was overpowering, and I despised its scent. But I was always very complimentary to Theo because that was his love language. In retrospect, I assumed that’s why we made it as long as we did. I was very communicative. I told people how much I adored them—the things that made them special—and I expected nothing in return, which was a good thing, because Theo was a man of few words.
I thought back to how we met: at a ribbon cutting for the newest bubble lift at the ski resort. They asked my father to cut the ribbon, which pleased me to no end that hecontinued to get recognition for his Olympian status. Part of me thought that’s why the firm chose me to help design the airport—so they could then use my dad for promotional needs. I was far from being the top designer at the firm, but I was the only one who was local to the area and had a famous skier for a father. Sigh. I thought back to the ribbon cutting, replaying the scene in my mind for the one hundredth time that month.
Theo had attended, hoping to meet my dad, and afterward when my parents and I were trying to settle on a place for lunch, Theo came stumbling over and interrupted our conversation. My father, who always had enough time to meet a fan, shook his hand and let Theo pour it on thick. “My first memory was watching you at the National Championship in 1999. When you tore it up against those young kids—wow. I knew then that I wanted to focus my efforts on skiing as a sport that I could really do for life.”
My father appeared deeply touched by that man’s words, and I took it as a green light to introduce myself. As Theo lingered, and I had hearts in my eyes, my mother suggested Theo join us for lunch, and the rest was history, orit would’ve been, had he not dumped me fourteen months later.
My mother didn’t ski, and my father loved her. I thought of the definition of love; does it have the bounds of hobbies? If two people don’t share every interest or passion, are they incompatible? So, if I wasn’t sure that I even liked Theo… If I was pretty sure he was unavailable and only with me out of convenience to get to my father… Did I genuinely love Theo? If I took away his looks, his charm, and the idea of him, what remained? Was any part of our lives ever truly entwined that would make his absence this painful?
I shook the thought from my mind and laughed. The small release of emotion triggered a hysteric fit of humor over Theo’s behavior that I never understood, like how he changed his name from Thomas to Theo because he thought it sounded more attractive. Or how he could chat with my father or his friends for hours on end about his ski-jumping, but the moment I wanted to share something close to my heart, it seemed unimportant to him. My sense of humor disappeared, and I realized the darkness of the past several months. The last year of my life was dedicated to the effort ofprovingI was the perfect woman to a man I wasn’t even sure I liked, letaloneloved. These revelations were earth shattering as I rejoiced to God for not answering the very prayers I’d been pleading for that entire time. Theo wasnotthe one for me!
As I took a deep breath, I understood it was actually completely over. I could wear my comfortable sweatpants on the weekends without worrying that he might stop by. I could go a day without makeup, styled hair, or fancy clothes. Food was no longer off limits. While I wasn’t planning on giving up or letting myself go, I could finallybreathe.
After a hot shower, a little self-care in the way of a face mask, peppermint tea, and my softest pajamas, I curled up on the couch with my hair still up in a towel. Yes... I felt relieved to be away from Theo. Anything I thought I felt for him was my imagination. After much reflection, I saw that I actually settled with Theo because I thought he was what my father wanted for my life.
What a revelation that was. I thought about my therapist, Anna, and just how right she’d been that whole time; how she had asked me where my need to appease my father came from. As I sorted through my feelings in silence, I prayed that I could let that desire go. Despite the crucial importance of maintaining a close bond with my life-givingparents, I no longer wanted to make life-altering decisions based on perceived notions of their desires for me. And Anna was right about my skirting the blame in situations. I’d been so hurt at Theo for not wanting a relationship that I had been tiptoeing around that entire time… I wasn’t even behaving like myself. If I hadn’t encouraged our relationship as hard as I did, would we ever have even started one? I doubted it.
Dear Lord, Please direct my path. I’m surrendering the sense of control I desperately want to cling to, but I can’t anymore. Only You know the plan You have for my life, and I trust You, Lord. Amen.
From then on, I decided to forge my own path in life and love while giving God full control. When I was ready, I would look for the partner that God had planned for me, not who I thought my father would want as a son-in-law.
My father… I needed to call him soon. I got up from the couch and moved to where his poster from his cover of the box of Wheaties hung up in my living room; the one he had just razzed me about being the focal point of my living room. I thought about what he said, but I had always kept it hanging upin my bedroom when I was young, so when my grandmother left me her condo in her will, it just seemed natural to have it on my main wall. I looked over at him, realizing that despite my personal breakthrough in the wrong relationship I had just gotten out of, I was still not ready to tell my dad what had transpired. He had just been so successful that I felt like a dud, stunted in my growth compared to his long list of accomplishments. Oh well, I thought. Those feelings weren’t real nor were they valid.
My phone dinged and pulled me out of my daydream. I reached for it in my pajama pocket and saw a text from the youth group leader, Mickey, at Sage Creek Church, reminding me of my night to bring the treats.
Hello, Claire! I’m sending you a short list of what to bring for Float Night tomorrow. You’ll need to go to Baxter’s store in order to find the Dairy-Free for Coleen. Let me know the total, and we will Venmo you. Thx!
(typing..)
(typing..)
2-Liter of Root Beer
2-Liter of Orange Soda
2-Liter of Sprite
Ice Creams:
Rainbow Sherbet
Strawberry
Vanilla
Dairy-Free Vanilla
As I skimmed over the list, the distraction it brought pleased me. Nothing made me happier than working with teenagers. According to them, I was cool because I hadn’t conformed to the lifestyle around there— a backwards way of looking at the fact I didn’t ski, but I thought,I’ll take it.
I had little involvement at the youth group other than serving as a glorified errands gal those days. But when Mickey had asked me to help last year, it had been out of the blue and yet just what I needed. Spending time with the youth in my community at that level was fulfilling. And at that time, it provided a much-needed mental escape from the recent devastation in my life.
