Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

CODY

T he walls are suffocating. Gray and bland and lifeless. I think they might be closing in on me. The last sound I’ll ever hear is the droning “tick, tock” of the wall clock. What a morbid way to die. I’m trapped in a box with restlessness seeping through every nerve and cell in my body, and I’m going to be crushed alive.

I’m a rat locked in a cage.

“This is your second warning, Cody, and you won’t get another. If I hear another complaint about your behavior from a guest, you’re fired on the spot. You got it?”

If I had something to lose, maybe I’d bite my tongue.

“Respectfully, Mr. Thommes, my job is to keep your guests safe. I’d love to do that and coddle them all at the same time, but sometimes it doesn’t work out like that. The guest who complained? She was about two seconds away from a broken leg. If I’d coddled her and spoken softly, you would be dealing with a lot worse than a bad Yelp review. You’d have a multimillion-dollar lawsuit on your hands, and we both know that’s not something you want with the off-season coming up.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, kid,” Thommes barks. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. It’s just business. And you’re lucky I’m giving you another warning. If you were anyone else, you’d be packing your bags right now. Just—” He shakes his head and heaves a tired sigh, watching me through heavily-lidded eyes that don’t come across nearly as angry as he’d probably like. I kind of feel bad for the guy. “Get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

I don’t have to be told twice.

I stand and start to leave my boss’s office. As my fingers curl around the door handle, he calls after me, “And get back to work! If I find out you’re fooling around, I’ll have you working the front desk for a week.”

I don’t dignify that little remark with a reply. I leave, breathing a deep sigh of relief when the door closes behind me. I got away with a slap on the wrist. I didn’t think I’d be so lucky this time. Not after the little flooding incident in my room last week.

Or the tiny fire the week before.

Or the crying kid the week before that.

My days are numbered. There may not be a lot I can count on here, but I can count on that. Thommes may like me, but he can only justify keeping me around for so long. I’m—as he likes to say—‘ bad for business .’ And, truthfully, he’s not wrong.

It’s not that I go looking for trouble. Really, I don’t. It just seems to come looking for me. And it’s not anything that’s horrifically bad. It’s just a few harmless little slip-ups.

Well, maybe more than a few.

It’s a lot of harmless slip-ups. But in my defense, I think I make up for it with my incredible people skills. I am an invaluable addition to this company. The guests love me. Or hate me. Either way, they’re passionate, and passion is important.

I weave through the crowded lobby, greeting guests I know and welcoming those I don’t. The front desk ladies wave when they see me, Janet—the sixty-year-old retiree—more than the others. I wink at them and grin when I catch at least two of them blushing.

I would never actually pursue anyone at the resort—guest or employee. I’m a professional, after all. But that said, it never hurts to flirt a little. It’s good for the soul.

I pass the elevators just as a kid I recognize from lessons a few days ago steps out of one. His face lights up when he sees me. I lean down and hold up my hand for a high-five, which he’s quick to accept.

“How’s your footwork coming, Jake?” I ask him.

He beams. “I didn’t fall even once yesterday! Dad said I’m getting better than he is.”

“Course you are!” I exclaim happily. “After all, you had an excellent teacher.” I pat the boy on the back and continue on my way toward the dining room. I know Thommes said to get back to work, but I need to make a quick pit stop first. I missed lunch because of his little ‘mandatory disciplinary meeting’, and there’s no way I’m going back out into the snow on an empty stomach. My stomach growls on cue.

There’s no more than a half dozen guests finishing a late lunch when I arrive. I can’t put a name to any of their faces, so it’s pretty likely most of them just checked in. I greet the cooks as I enter the kitchen (which, surprise surprise, I’m not supposed to be in) and grab whatever’s in sight. They’re halfway through cleaning up. All that’s left is some soggy fruit and cold pieces of chicken. I don’t mind, though. I take as much as I can fit in my hands and find an empty table tucked in the corner of the dining room.

The resort feels so foreign in times like this, when there are no bustling crowds or laughing children or happy couples. It's just me and a couple of loners staring at their phones. It reminds me of home, where every person I passed on the street had their eyeballs pressed all the way to their screens. It got so sad how mundane it all was. I wanted more from life than status updates and concrete jungles. I wanted nature, with life and love to spare. And I found it. More than once. Colorado isn't my first stop on my little adventure away from home. First, I went to California, then Oregon, then Maine, then New Mexico, and now Colorado. This is the longest I've ever stayed in one place since I left Ohio. This is the place where I have the most memories—good and bad. I've felt things here that I never thought were possible. I know the day will eventually come for me to move on, but I don't want to think about how hard it will be. Nowhere has ever felt as much like home as this place has.

There are, of course, things that I miss. My family, for one. I really miss them, even if I've convinced myself it's better this way. My mom used to call me at least three times a week, but I've stopped picking up. My dad used to send me recipes he found on the internet, but I never responded. I tell myself they're better off without hearing from me anyway. All I do is close myself off, keep them at arm's length. It's easier this way, isn't it? But sometimes, when it's especially cold outside, I can't help but remember the taste of my mom's favorite piping hot French onion soup. In those moments, the guilt creeps in, reminding me of what I've left behind, of the son I used to be. But then I push it away, telling myself that this distance is for the best. They don't need to deal with the mess I've become. It's better for everyone if I just stay away.

My parents aren’t all I left back in Ohio. My younger sister, Maya, is still there, too. She’s probably my best and only friend these days. I know it’s lame to be friends with your baby sister, but what can I say? She’s a mini-me. I trained her to be the best companion possible. It would be a waste not to follow through. And truthfully, she’s the only one to stick beside me after all these years. I’ve had a lot of friends come and go. My friends back home don’t understand why I’m not around more, why I can’t catch a flight home for every birthday, wedding or reunion. So they gave up asking. I’ve met some friends on the road, sure, but most didn’t last six months. Maya always stayed, though, no matter how much I hurt her. Maybe sometimes she’d scream and yell and tell me how much she hated me, but she was always the one to answer as soon as I called. I’m glad that even though I’m a thousand miles away, our relationship hasn’t changed. We’re just as close as we’ve ever been. In fact, she’s coming to visit me for the first time since I settled here. In less than a week, we’ll be reunited.

And she won’t be alone.

Accompanying her will be her best friend, Darcy. Darcy and I go way back. She was like another sister to me growing up. She was my first kiss in a middle school game of Spin the Bottle. Then things changed, and confusing feelings turned to hate faster than we could even begin to process. And I moved away without ever fixing it, not the smartest move, considering she and my sister are practically attached at the hip. Catching one without the other is rare. My parents used to say when we were kids that Maya and Darcy were soulmates, destined to find each other in every life. I don’t know about that—I’m not as philosophical as they are—but there’s definitely something about them. They just fit.

I had someone like that once, but it didn’t last.

Maybe I just wasn’t made to be half of a whole. Maybe I’m whole on my own. But I hope that’s not true. I don’t want to be alone. I want to have the everlasting thought that no matter what, there’s someone who will stand beside me through everything.

That’s what Darcy and Maya have.

I know it’s going to be difficult seeing them like that when I’ve been so existentially alone lately, but I’m excited nonetheless. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my family. I simply don’t have the funds to make it home anytime I’d like. It’s been nearly two years. I can’t imagine how much things have changed.

I know I have changed, though. Immeasurably.

I haven’t always been the best man. My intentions weren’t malice in the slightest, but I know that they used to come across that way to many people—Darcy included. My goal now, during her visit here, is to convince her that I’m not the same guy I was when I left Ohio. I’m better now. I’m somebody that she would want around if I could just be given the opportunity. Maybe we can be friends again.

It's strange to think about Darcy and Milo together. I remember Milo from high school - we were on the wrestling team together for a couple of years. He was always a bit of a player, popular with the girls and arrogant as hell. I never would have pegged him as Darcy's type. When Maya told me they were engaged, I was shocked. And now, hearing about what he did to her... it makes my blood boil. Cheating on Darcy? I can't wrap my head around it. Sure, I've made my fair share of mistakes in relationships. Sometimes I've been distant, forgot to call, or put my own needs first. But cheating? That's a line I'd never cross. The thought of Darcy being hurt like that... it stirs something vicious in me that I didn't know was there.

She deserves so much better than that. Part of me wants to hunt Milo down and teach him a lesson he'll never forget. But I know that's not my place. Still, if I ever cross paths with him again, I can't promise I'll keep my cool.

From what Maya has told me, though, she’s not herself, and I have my work cut out for me.

Luckily, I love a good challenge.