Poppy is beaming, smiling ear to ear, and the camera follows her as security lets her in through the fence, into the area that is sectioned off for skiers and their teams at the bottom. She’s wearing that powder-blue snowsuit, fuzzy white boots, and earmuffs to match. Before Poppyarrived, I had no one waiting for me. And now? I have the only person I will ever need.
“Can you see what she’s carrying?”
“It looks like…”
“Is that a cat?”
Now, I can’t contain my smile as the camera zooms out and I get a clear view of Cordelia, bundled up in what looks like one of Poppy’s hand-knit sweaters. Poppy picks up Cordelia’s paw and waves it at the camera, and I can’t help but laugh at how unimpressed Cordelia looks.
God, I fucking love them. I love Poppy, and I’m going to tell her the second I get to the bottom of the hill.
I’m going to tell my wife I love her.
And I’m going to kiss her like she’s the only prize I ever care about winning.
“Alright, let’s see what kind of show Jett puts on for his girl.”
“This just got interesting, if it wasn’t already.”
“Jett is making all kinds of headlines today.”
The buzzer sounds, now that the commotion has died down, and I push off, heading toward the one and only jump of the run.
One shot to make this count, and I suddenly have a newfound motivation to give it all I’ve got. I know what I’m going to do, how I’m going to win this thing.
I can tell my skis are sticking, not gliding as smooth as the Nuclear ones I’ve become accustomed to this season, and the ski jacket I pulled out of my closet is bulky. So even if I know how to do the trick, whether my equipment—and my knee—will let me, is another question.
Nearing the jump now, I let out an exhale to focus mymind, to drop into the calm mental state that allows me to let my training take over.
At the last moment, before the earth scoops me upward, I twist my skis around in the snow and look over my shoulder, aiming myself at the jump backwards.
“He’s going in switch…”
The ground drops out from under me and cross my skis as I complete the first turn.
“There it is, he’s doing one, two, three…”
On the second and third turn I tuck my legs to grab the back end of one ski, and now I can’t see anything. I just have Dan’s voice in my head.Full send or nothin’.
“And he lands a beautiful triple misty!”
“Did he just manage to pull it off … backwards?”
“Yes, he did, and that might just win him the Cup.”
The second my skis hit the snow, I hear the roar of the crowd floating up on the wind and carrying me down to the bottom of the hill. I whizz past the blue line on the snow, under the big red blow-up arch, and throw my poles in the air. I lift a ski off the ground while I pump my fist.
I fucking did it.
I landed a record-breaking jump, and I know based on the volume of the cheering that my score is going to beat out anyone else who competes today.
But I don’t look back for my numbers on the screen, because my eyes are scanning the small crowd on this side of the fence for Poppy.
And there she is. Cradling Cordelia in her arms, her smile big and wide and just for me.
Our eyes lock on each other, and it seems as if the rest of the world fades away, becomes blurry, and there’s a momentof peaceful calm and silence as Poppy and I look at each other, taking each other in.
I quickly get out of my ski bindings, and we’re running towards each other, closing the distance that the rest of the world somehow wedged between us. Overcoming every obstacle that’s been thrown our way—public opinion, personal hangups, logistical barriers. Now, it’s just her and I.
