“Two boys and then finally a girl. Mom said Dad would’ve keep trying until he got his daughter. She had nightmares of twelve boys. Meals are important in our family. If you’re in town, you’re expected to be at the table.”
“My mom ordered in or hires a cook. Why aren’t you with your family for the holiday? They sound important to you.”
He tilts his head. “Your brother’s a professional skier. You don’t pay attention to sports news?”
“I watch his runs and attend when I can, check his stats, but that’s it. I’m not a die hard. Half the hype is gossip and speculation anyway. I like solid facts not hearsay.”
“You are truly unique.”
“Ooh, that sounds pessimistic.”
“I wish people cared about the facts.”
I set my cup down. “What happened?”
He pushes his empty bowl aside. “More tea? Or coffee?”
“You have cream, so coffee, please.”
He returns with two mugs and studies his own so long I think he’s forgotten the question. Then he looks up.
The pain in his eyes hits like a gut punch. Suddenly I’m not sure I want the answer.
“I’m good at what I do. I love the sport, the speed. But I’ve come to hate the hype and lack of privacy. I’m using this break to decide what I’ll keep doing…and what I won’t. I may quit.”
“You just joined the team with my brother. What else have you decided?”
“They agreed to my boundaries. My old team wouldn’t. I believe that change will be good. I fired my manager. There are two sports reporters I trust—only they get interviews now. And I’ll only keep sponsors who respect my boundaries and whose products I respect.”
“Sounds reasonable.” I take a sip and wait.
“I was dating an actress. She became very famous and a media darling right after we got together. Suddenly, every detail about me—from my face to my underwear—became public. Everywhere we went turned into a photo shoot. If I had a bad run, they’d say I’d been too busy partying the night before.
“I hated the notoriety, the invasion of my privacy. She loved it.
“Then I found out she was feeding stories to the press. So I walked away.
“And then she leaked more. Claimed I was a womanizer, said she caught me cheating. Everyone believed her. No one asked for my side. I stayed out of the public for months and just skied. Had some great runs.”
“You set the new downhill record.”
He nods. “Then a different woman claimed I was the father of her child. That I picked her up at a bar, we had rough sex, and I ditched her at the hotel.”
Meeting my gaze, I see the pain and frustration in his eyes.
“I’d never met the woman. But she had a Polaroid of me in the hotel lobby, plus a room service receipt with my forged signature. The paternity scandal blew up.
“Tests proved the signature wasn’t mine and DNA proved I was not the father. But by then the damage was done. And barely anyone bothered to report the truth.”
His voice is steady, but the frustration roils beneath it.
“The sponsor team loved the notoriety. I personally believe they fueled it. I left and joined your brother’s team. But at every press conference, someone brings it up. I’m tired. Skiing has been my life, but…. I’m tired. I want a life not a headline.”
His pain and disillusionment vibrate off him. Everything he’s done so far with me shows he has standards. “That must have been hard.”
“Yes. I learned most of it first from the media. The same for my family. Children are sacred to us. My mother was devastated thinking I had a child she might never meet.”
“And now?”
