They’ve been in short supply for far longer than the past year.
I just hadn’t been paying enough attention to realize it was missing.
She eventually wipes her eyes and lets loose a deep, happy sigh. “You know, there are no winners if you let them make you quit living,” she says softly. “Grieving time is important, but don’t—don’t make yourself the loser in your own life.”
And there she goes, doing it again.
Slipping little bits of wisdom and perspective into my life when I least expect it but most need it.
I shift a glance at her.
She spreads her hands, palms up. “Not calling you a loser.”
“I know.”
“Someone had to tell me something similar a few years ago. It was helpful.”
“Youneeded to be told not to be the loser in your own life.”
Her spread hands go jazzy. “Surprise! All the money and power in the world can’t buffer you from childhood trauma, messy emotional stuff, and questioning everything you’ve ever known about the world.”
“Few years ago—before your sister stole your ex, then.”
“She didn’t—you know what? Fine. For simplicity’s sake, yes. Yes, before shestole my ex.”
I lift my brows at her, wondering if she’s going to tell me more, when the gondola screeches to a halt.
I stumble forward, still in motion when the car is not, and almost lose my balance against the front glass.
Margot sucks in a breath as she braces herself with the railing beside the door. “Are you for fucking real?” she mutters.
We’re maybe a hundred feet or so from the bottom platform, and the mountain is steep enough here that we’re dangling at least thirty feet off the ground.
I peer down at the base of the lift, and then swipe my hand over my mouth.
“What is it?” Her voice is smaller now.
“Can’t tell.”
She scoots back on the bench, putting her hands out when the gondola sways a bit, then tucks her knees up by her chin.
Her face has gone pale, and all of the amusement has left her eyes. “Think it’ll be long?”
“Shouldn’t be.” I call on my radio to ask what’s up with the gondola stopping, but don’t get an immediate answer beyond my boss saying they’ll look into it if it’s still not running in a few minutes. It stops on occasion whenever anyone needs extra time getting in or out of one of the cars. This isn’t unusual.
Not yet anyway.
She blows out a slow breath.
“You good?” I ask her.
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
“Perception is reality.”
“So if you believe hard enough that you’re good, you’re good?”
