“I have no fucking clue,” I tell her.
She blinks.
I explain. “Give me everything we’re gonna need for sledding. Suits, hats, gloves, a sled?”
“Sure. We have sleds, or tubes for kids who like to go solo. Which do you prefer?”
I nudge Isla.
She takes the hint. “A pair of tubes, please.”
The girl nods, types on the screen, then bends over the counter looking for something. “How many kids?”
“None yet,” I say.
She types some more and turns the screen to me. “Two adult tickets for the morning and items I think you’ll need.”
I read the screen. “Fantastic,” I say and pay. Once that’s cleared, the girl points at the end of the long counter, and wegrab our stuff, dress in snowsuits, and carry the tubes outside. Isla’s is pink, mine blue with a smiling elephant. I even got an inflated trunk I can hold on to.
I don’t like that we have two tubes instead of one family sled, but allowing her to make that decision was important. I’m playing to win, not to make her more uncomfortable. I’ll do that later.
Outside, in a line with little people that come up to my hip, Isla’s eyeing the chairlifts and looking a little pale.
“You scared of heights?” I ask.
“Kind of.”
“The cabin is near the top of the hill and you didn’t seem to mind.”
“It’s different from the lift.”
“We could walk up.” I catch the empty incoming chair and grab her around the waist. She yelps, and I load her up on the seat, running along to catch up with it. I leap onto it, then settle in next to her. Isla’s eyes are closed. “Oh my God, I can’t look.”
“We’re two feet from the ground,” I deadpan. This is a mini lift that goes up the mini hill, but I can’t say that. I’m trying to understand her fears and struggles and shit. I have so little fear of things that I don’t wanna come off as a coldhearted bastard.
She elbows me. “No, we’re not.”
“We really are.”
She peeks with one eye. “Oh, okay. That’s not so bad.” Then she turns. “Oh no.”
“Look forward.”
“I’m gonna be sick.”
“We’re almost there.”
“No no no, I’m gonna be sick.”
“It’s gonna be fine. Look.” I point. “Kids are getting off there.”
She grips my hand. Now, if I planned this, it would not go as well as it’s going. I’m gonna be the tube-sled hero, and everyone loves heroes. As the line approaches the end, I pass her my tube so she’s holding both. “Stand up,” I tell her.
I grab her waist and leap off the thing into the snow, landing firmly on my nonslide boots, holding her with my other hand. She looks up at me, cheeks rosy, lips plush, green eyes bright in the sun. Her gaze drops to my mouth.
“Better?” I ask.
“Well, now I have to sled down.”
