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well.
    It’s hard to talk on a day like today, but we don’t need to. We’ve developed a few signals to communicate. But mostly we know each other so well it’s easy to predict our movements.
    Dropping into the section, the noise of the storm is instantly muffled. Pine trees droop with the weight of snow and ice. The snow is pristine. No sign of previous skiers, it’s deliciously virgin. My skis slice through and I feel them completely enveloped. I ski the whole ski and not just the bottom. Pressure on the top and sides helps me control speed. Changing planes in a slight up-and-down motion, I’m mesmerized by the floating. My legs burn with the exertion, and my lungs pump oxygen efficiently. Extending my arms one at a time, my poles act as bumpers, and push me back to my center and maintain my balance. My mind is focused on keeping everything working together.
    Jason stops and waits for me to catch up. He pulls down his fleece face covering. “Was that amazing, or what?”
    I lower my moist fabric. “Epic!”
    We’re both breathless and my heart beats hard. My mitten sticks with sweat as I remove it. I unzip my jacket and pull my water bottle out from inside my coat. I suck down a few cool mouthfuls and offer it to Jason. “We need to stay in the trees. This just rocks.”
    “Isn’t it beautiful in here, Casey? Listen.”
    Wind howls and I realize I can’t hear another soul. I say, “I feel so all alone.”
    “I know. Isn’t it great?” He smiles and hands me my water bottle. “The Cliffs?”
    I nod my head. “Excellent plan.”
    The Cliffs is a section that requires practice and many runs before it flows with ease. Most of the ledges are hidden and need specific tactics. It may be vital to hit the cliff at a certain angle to avoid an obstacle on the other side. Many cliffs can’t be taken without multiple feet of snow cover. Today, we know we can hit them all. I have no doubt we’ll be there for a few runs. Flying off snow-covered rocks is Jason’s favorite thing. Well, one of them.
    ***
    After a long ski day, my body is spent. The truck cab heater wraps warmth around me and I’m sleepy. The blizzard lets up, and snow flurries swirl lazily through the air in front of us. Brown slush splashes up from the tires ahead.
    “What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Jason looks exhausted. I know he has a couple of hours of plowing to do after he changes my headlight.
    “By seven. I only need to load my car. Most things are packed. I’ll do some tonight and finish in the morning.” There is so much I want to say. I want to tell him to lie to me. To tell me he wants babies and holidays and a family. I want him to say he can’t live without me and make it all be okay. I want my heart to stop breaking. Silent tears fall. He knows I’m crying. His strong hand wraps around mine, and we finish the ride in silence.
    I slide down onto the ground from the truck, and my thighs moan with the impact. I gather my gear and bring it inside to dry. Setting it down, I hear the familiar clunk of his plow drop to clear the driveway. I grab my keys and go out to move my car. The door lock is covered with ice. I slam it hard with my fist and slide in the key. Sitting, the cold leather of the bucket seat bites through my long underwear and I begin to shiver. Shifting is stiff and my car groans into movement. I don’t want to go. I want to jump into Jason’s warm truck and tell him to take me home. To take me to his bed. We can stay there forever, and all the other things that matter no longer do. Damn it.
    I get out of the car and slam the door harder than I need to. I stomp my way over to my apartment like a petulant child. Once inside, I lift the lid to the wood stove and peer at the fire. There are embers and I blow on them to see a glow. The flue squeaks as I open it all the way. I grab a thinner piece of wood from the pile and stick it in. When I blow again, it catches. Adding more wood, I know it will roar in a few