Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

DANICA

How she and Pete ended up alone on a chair lift together, Danica wasn’t entirely sure. Kiera had gone off to ski the black runs higher up the mountain. Maggie and Izzy had been right behind her in line, but as the chair swung around and she settled in, it was Pete beside her, not Maggie.

She tucked her poles under her leg and held onto the bar, staring straight ahead.

“These seats are kind of squishy,” Pete remarked.

Danica nodded, noticing that her ass wasn’t freezing on a hard metallic seat for once.

“So, you’ve been avoiding me,” Pete said playfully.

Danica watched as a skier carved down a wide blue run effortlessly. They looked peaceful all alone. No one else was beside them, cornering them in a vulnerable moment. “I haven’t been avoiding you. It’s been a busy trip.”

The chair swung as it lifted higher and higher, the rhythmic clicking of the overhead cable system the only sound above them.

“I don’t want it to be weird between us,” Pete said, leaning back in the chair. She pulled a small flask from her jacket pocket and took a swig.

“Are you seriously drinking right now?” Danica asked, her voice dripping with irritation. “See, this is?—”

Pete held out the flask. “You want some?”

“No, I don’t want whiskey right now,” Danica said, exasperated.

“Suit yourself,” Pete said, taking another swig from the flask.

The chair passed another pole, which screeched like some poor dying animal as the chair slowed to a stop. The chair swung, suspended about fifty feet above the ground, flanked on the side of the run by tall bare aspens dotted with conifers. An unexpected mid-air breakdown.

Oh, fantastic, it was her worst nightmare.

“Did the lift break?” Danica glanced up at the pole, then swiveled in her seat to look back. She didn’t recognize the snowboarders behind them, like Maggie and Izzy had either left their position in line or were lagging behind. Were they stuck, too?

“I bet someone took a tumble getting off, so they held it up,” Pete remarked, unconcerned.

Danica took a deep breath, raising her goggles onto her helmet. She stared up to where the chair was attached to the cable.

“We’re not going to fall,” Pete said, nonchalantly resting her elbow on the seat back as if they were comfortably on a sofa, not dangling precariously fifty feet above ground.

Danica’s strained voice undoubtedly gave away her uncertainty. “You don’t know that. What if we’re stuck here for hours?”

“Then it’s a nice relaxing spot with a view. We’re right next to a pole, so we’ll be one of the first to be rescued.” Pete looked around, relaxed and enjoying the view like the typical unbothered, unworried person she was.

Danica’s chest felt tight and her mouth went dry. “Why isn’t it moving yet? If someone just fell, wouldn’t it be moving by now?” She didn’t know if she was more upset about the idea of being stuck on a chairlift high up in the air or being stuck on a chairlift with Pete.

Pete shrugged — shrugged! — and unzipped her backpack, pulling out a water bottle. “You still really hate being out of control, don’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Danica said, short-tempered and anxious and tired, taking off her gloves. “Is that even water?” She was blazing hot suddenly, and put her clammy hands on the metal bar in front of her, cooling them instantly. Her throat felt tight, and she was struggling to take a deep breath. Having a panic attack was inconvenient at the best of times, but being stuck with her ex in a swinging death trap precariously trapped in what felt like thousands of feet above solid ground was an even worse scenario than most.

Pete held out the water bottle in an offering. “Want a sip?” she asked, her expression soft.

“I’m fine,” Danica said immediately, but then paused and took the water bottle. Her mouth was like sandpaper, her skin felt itchy, and her hands felt numb. The water was cool and soothing, and she gulped it down desperately, trying to convince herself her throat wasn’t closing up. Her rational understanding, informed by medicine and history, recognized the panic attack, yet the panic itself felt no less real at that moment.

“Hey,” Pete said, her voice gentle as she took off her own glove and reached for Danica’s bare hand. Pete’s hand was warm as it wrapped around Danica’s, and Danica’s panic overrode any consideration of what holding Pete’s hand meant. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’re not alone. We’re not that far off the ground.”

Danica rationally knew all of this, but she could still feel tears welling in her eyes. She looked away from Pete, not wanting her to see how upset she felt. Pete held her hand in silence, her skin was softer than Danica thought it would be, though she could feel a callous on Pete’s thumb where it rubbed the top of her own hand.

Danica let out a shaky breath, unzipping the top few inches of her coat. She watched skiers gliding down the run under them, envious of their freedom. Would they be up here for hours? What time was it? What if they were up here overnight? Would they freeze to death? She knew it was a long-shot but she wasn’t sure how she’d fare with something like survival-cannibalism.

Pete cleared her throat. “Want to tell me about Eddie?”

“I sure don’t,” Danica answered, biting her lip as she turned away.

“He sounds nice,” Pete’s voice held the same amount of excitement as if she were identifying a common bird in the pine trees.

“He is nice.” Danica was speaking through clenched teeth to keep her chin from quivering. He was nice. He used to be nice.

“Izzy said he’s quiet,” Pete added.

“Izzy met him once, at Maggie’s wedding.”

“He’s a dentist, right?”

“Yep.”

“An admirable profession.”

“Why are you like this?” Danica asked.

“Like what?” Pete shrugged.

Danica huffed in indignation. How many more questions about Eddie would she have to dodge if they were stuck here for hours? She studied the ground again, contemplating raising the safety bar so she could just launch herself out of the lift. The hospital provided her with good health insurance. She could work despite having two broken legs, couldn’t she? Or, worst case, she could take short-term disability and actually take a few relaxing weeks off without Pete fucking Pancott questioning her fake-current but really ex-fiancé.

“You know what really pissed me off about how you broke up with me?” Pete asked, squeezing Danica’s hand. Her voice was uncharacteristically solemn.

Danica nearly gave herself whiplash with how fast she spun to glare at Pete, forgetting how a sudden movement might make the chairlift rock. “Excuse me?” Pete had a mischievous look as she studied Danica’s face. “This is what you want to talk about right now?”

Pete shrugged again. Shrugged! “What better time than when you’re a hostage? You’ve been avoiding me, and I think we should talk about it. Just to clear the air.”

Danica wished looks could kill in that moment.

“It pissed me off you were so… final about it,” Pete said, sighing. “You just decided there was no future for us, and you wouldn’t be swayed.”

“ You broke up with me ,” Danica said slowly, taking a deep, shaky breath that only seemed to stoke the fires of her rage at Pete’s statement.

“I said we could see what happened after graduation,” Pete said, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, because you were so noncommittal that you couldn’t even commit to breaking up with me,” Danica snapped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pete raised a brow in disbelief.

“You being noncommittal?” Danica asked, her irritation growing with every word out of Pete’s mouth.

Pete nodded, and Danica could still feel the warmth of her hand. She pulled her hand free, waving her hand in the air between them. “In the end you couldn’t even commit to calling me your girlfriend.” Danica’s voice was sharp, her chest aching with familiar hurt. The source and timing of Pete’s comments were perplexing. It had been fifteen years since they’d broken up, or rather, not broken up. Since they’d ended things between them.

“You didn’t want to be my girlfriend!” Pete said, her expression matching Danica’s irritation.

Where did you get that idea from?” Danica asked. “Why do you think I put up with your bullshit for years ?”

“Because you hate failing at things. That’s why you stay with things or people, even when they no longer serve you.” Pete looked far too confident in her perception as she said that.

Danica clenched and unclenched her fists. “What is that supposed to mean?” Danica asked. “What does that have to do with us?”

Pete stared her straight in the eye as she said, “We have almost nothing in common. We were bound to find that out eventually, and then it was all going to come crashing down.”

Danica blinked. “Are you saying that you wouldn’t commit to our relationship for my sake? To save me from failure?”

Pete nodded. “Yeah, I mean, look at you and Eddie?— “

“You don’t even know him,” Danica said abruptly.

“I know enough. He’s nice, quiet, probably politically neutral, and he has a good job. He’s a safe choice, right?” Pete looked her up and down. “He doesn’t challenge you. He doesn’t inspire you. You don’t sound inspired. You sound like you barely even like the guy. You never bring him up, even when Maggie and Kiera are talking about their partners. Doesn’t sound like someone about to marry the love of their life.”

Danica opened her mouth to tell Pete she was wrong, but closed it, too exasperated to even get the words out. She wanted to tell Pete she was wrong, even if that would technically be a lie. Even on his best days, Eddie’s unexpected call yesterday made her realize she had never even considered getting back together with him. As she was trying to find the right words to tell Pete where she could shove her assumptions about Eddie, the cable above their heads groaned, the pulley system clicking as it started up again. The chair swayed and Danica grabbed the bar again, trying not to lose her balance as the chair slowly lurched into motion once more.

“Hey, it works,” Pete said, her mouth splitting into a bright smile.

Danica blinked. Was she on a chairlift with Jekyll and Hyde? She snatched Pete’s flask out of her hand and took a swig, the warmth and sweetness surprising her. She sputtered, sniffing the top of the flask. “Is this… honey?”

“My throat gets dry when it’s cold. Warm honey water helps,” Pete said

Danica eyed her.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it out loud.”

Danica raised one eyebrow, taking another sip from the flask.

“That you were wrong.”

Danica rolled her eyes, passing back the flask. “I’ll say it out loud when I’m actually wrong.” She pulled her gloves back on, focusing intently on tightening the wrist part. She’d assumed Pete was drinking whiskey out of a flask, and there she was, drinking warm honey water like some Golden Girls character. Why did that annoy her so much more?

Pete shifted her goggles back into place. The goggles were absurdly pink and reflective, clashing with everything else about her laid-back style. “How’s your panic attack? You feel like you’re coming down from it yet?”

Danica studied Pete’s side profile for a moment. Her high cheekbones, the slight bump in her nose where she broke it playing flag football in high school. A face once so familiar she could draw it from memory, but she now felt like it was the face of someone she knew but couldn’t quite place.

Had Pete picked a fight solely to distract her from her panic? If so, it had worked. That was the most frustrating part? She hadn’t spent the entire stall on the lift panicking, because she’d been so focused on her infuriation. To what extent did Pete’s words honestly convey her emotions, and to what extent were they a manipulative tactic to agitate her and divert her attention from their perilous situation in the stalled chairlift? She wanted to thank Pete, but she also still kind of wanted to strangle her. Compromising for somewhere in the middle, she stared straight ahead, pulling her yellow goggles back over her own eyes.

Danica focused intently as the lift lowered into the station, growing more nervous with every moment that Pete continued to lean casually back in the seat. Danica straightened her skis, clutching both poles. Getting plowed down by a ski lift upon disembarking was one of her worst fears, and letting that happen in front of Pete only heightened that worry inside of her.

Pete lifted the bar and let her snowboard land under her at the last moment, expertly balancing and gliding out of the ski lift’s way as it continued to move forward. To channel the same level of cool and casual, Danica did not panic and claw her way to freedom with her poles. Instead, she concentrated on keeping her balance and getting out of the way, hoping her reaction looked just as calm and collected. Feeling a bit cocky from her success, she paused, glancing Pete’s way. “Which way are you heading?”

Pete stood from clipping in her binding. “I was going to head down Bushwacker,” she said, gesturing to the black run behind her. “You coming?”

Danica shook her head. “No way.” She pointed to the blue behind her. “Woozley’s.”

“Coward,” Pete teased, her white teeth flashing in a grin.

“Proud to be an alive coward,” Danica said back. She leaned forward, pushing off her poles and moving away from the horrifying black runs behind her.

“See you later,” Pete called out, then added something unintelligible with a gesture toward Danica.

Danica glanced over her shoulder, confused, just in time to see a herd of children in matching red vests, absolutely invincible on their tiny skis, barreling towards her. They seemed to be racing toward her at an alarmingly fast speed. She froze, clutching her poles close to her body as they raced past. How were kids’ clubs even allowed up away from the bunny hill and lower, easier green runs? They split around her, four kids on each side like a school of piranhas, moving as one ferocious organism. A ski instructor whizzed by after them, blowing a whistle and calling for them to slow down. She heard their giggles on the wind as they raced out of sight down the steeper descent of See Forever.

Pete held out a thumbs up questioningly. “You okay? Thought you were a goner.”

“It’s going to take more than that to take me out,” Danica said, her heart still pounding.

“Just a car ride and a slippery parking lot, right?” Pete laughed.

Danica responded with a slightly-teasing, “Get lost,” as she rolled her eyes and headed in the direction of Woozley’s Way. She thought she heard Pete laughing in response behind her, but she stifled the grin on her own face, not ready to outwardly admit she enjoyed their banter.

Fifteen years later, and Pete fucking Pancott still got under her skin like no other.