“Yeah, it’s hard not to,” said Phil. Then he took out a map from under his coffee mug and unfolded it for Dad.
“So here we are. This is the range you’re looking at here. Now, you said most of you were new skiers, is that right?”
More like non-skiers, I wanted to say.
“First time for all of us except for Jeremy. We can’t wait,” said Dad, squeezing Kathy’s hand.
“Well, this guide will tell you all about the different mountains. I have to say, Sugar Peak’s probably your best bet if you’re only here for a week. It’s about ten minutes away and it’s got a lot of different trails — downhill, cross-country, snowboarding. And feel free to ask me or my son, Eric, about anything. We usually try to head out to the slopes sometime in the afternoon for a run. And if you don’t see us around, you can always just knock.”
He pointed to a door with a brass knocker on it, which was behind his desk. I guessed that was where he lived. Then he opened and closed about five desk drawers and fished out three keys, handing one to Dad and the other two to Jeremy.
“Now, as far as here at the inn, tonight we’re having board games and a slide show about local artists. I’m afraid that might not be that exciting for you younger folk. We have an older crowd right now. But maybe tomorrow you’ll stick around for our Karaoke Night. And happy hour starts in just 45 minutes or so in front of the fire in the front room.”
Dad turned to me and Jeremy.
“Sounds like a plan, huh? We’ll meet you down here in maybe an hour? Have some cocktails, get some dinner?” He put his arm around Kathy’s waist. She put her head on Dad’s shoulder. It fit there so perfectly, like they were two picture puzzle pieces, sliding into place.
“Actually, I don’t need that long, do you?” I said. What, were we all putting on ball gowns and mascara? I had promised Phoebe I’d wear lip gloss, but that wasn’t going to take an hour. Besides, I was starving — I hadn’t eaten since breakfast back in Florida, and I had slept through the salty cereal and sticks trail mix they gave us on the flight.
Dad’s face fell. “Well, we kinda thought we could take an hour to … freshen up,” he said. Kathy was looking at the ground, but I could see she was blushing.
Oh, great. Now I got it. They had other plans. Ew! I mean, I know it happens, but did they have to announce it? Should we make sure Phil knew, too? Maybe put out a flyer along with Karaoke Night? I felt my teeth grinding together.
“That sounds great, Dad,” said Jeremy, grabbing my arm and our two bags and pulling me down the hall. “We’ll see you downstairs in about an hour.”
We found our rooms upstairs, and Jeremy pushed me into one of them and slammed the door.
“What is your problem, Sam?” he spat. His eyebrows came together in a sharp point.
“I don’t have a problem. What is your problem?” I shot back.
“I don’t have a problem. You’re the one with the problem.”
“Well, maybe my problem is you.”
“Maybe my problem is you.”
I know, real mature, right?
Usually Jeremy and I get along fine. We used to play together a lot when we were little. Then we went through this couple of years when all he would do was wrestle me until I cried, and I would pull on his ears and try to make them longer. About a year after his Bar Mitzvah he started getting these weird patches of hair on his cheeks and he smelled like sweaty armpits all the time and he sort of stopped talking. I mean he said things like, “Hey, what’s up?” and “Get out of the bathroom or I’m gonna pee on your bed.” But that’s about it.
Now I barely see him. We’re in the same high school but we have totally different sets of friends. He spends most of his time in his room or playing poker with his friend Alec. Except when he hogs the television to watch wrestling, or messes up the microwave melting cheese. I don’t even know if he’s planning on going to college when he graduates. He used to talk about running for city councilman. But I think you have to read more than just the sports section to do that. Anyway, sometimes I miss hanging out with Jeremy. Especially since the divorce. Neither home feels really right to me, and he’s the only one who could understand what I’m talking about. I kept wanting to talk with him about the whole Kathy thing, but even at the wedding, the most he had said to me was, “Are you finishing your tamales?” and then he picked off all the cheese on mine. I guess I was hoping on this trip to at least have him to hang out with. To be on my side. But it didn’t look like that was happening.
“Listen, Sam. You’re trying to ruin this for Dad and that is not cool!” Jeremy’s nostrils were flaring now. Even his freckles looked mean.
“I am not trying to ruin this for Dad. I’m hungry!”
“Oh, come on. You’re not letting them have any time to themselves!”
“Well, if they wanted to stay in their room by themselves the whole time, then why did they invite us along?” I crossed my arms for emphasis.
“Dad just wants us to all get to know each other.”
“Sounds to me like they just want to have cuddle time.” I knew I sounded babyish, but I couldn’t help it.
“Oh, grow up, Sam. You’re just mad because you’re not Daddy’s little girl anymore. And by the way, it’s called sex, not cuddle time.”
Leave it to Jeremy to be delicate. He just didn’t get it, did he? Sex was one thing I did not want to talk about with my brother. Ever.
He took the remote off the top of the television set and turned on MTV. There was a video of a girl singer named Faryll Brea who was about fourteen years old. It felt like every week there was some hottie singer who just got out of preschool with a new album. I wondered if she’d lost all of her baby teeth yet. She was singing about how sometimes she felt so alone she thought she was just a shadow. Like she would know what alone was. She was walking in and out of a big pool in the middle of the woods and she wasn’t even pretending to sing all the words. Her sequined dress was making me dizzy. I had to get out of there.
I grabbed my bags off the bed and dumped them in the room next door. Then I dug around for my cell phone and marched down the stairs. Phil was standing in front of the fire now, explaining to an older woman with an explosion of gray frizzy hair about the plumbing systems in older houses like this one.
“As long as you’re going to take care of this,” the woman said with a thick Boston accent. She looked a little like those pictures of Albert Einstein when he had a big idea. I was so busy watching her head bob up and down that I missed the last step and crumpled down on the landing with a thud.
Nice one, Levy. Martha Graham, here I come.
“Everything okay, Samantha?” called Phil.
“Yup, yup!” I said, and picked myself up, gave him a wave, and slipped out the front door.
The air felt good, even though it was freezing. There was a short slate walk and then a front lawn covered in snow, rolling forward into what looked like a line of fir trees. It was too dark now to make out much except for a wide-open sky with a gazillion stars and a hazy scoop of moon.
I opened my phone and pressed Phoebe’s number. I missed her so much. Phoebe always knew what I was thinking, sometimes even before I had time to say it. Like when we hung out in her basement, cutting up magazines, and eating grapes and pretzels. Sometimes we just stayed in her room, lying on the mint carpeting and staring up at the ceiling, not needing to say anything at all. I wished she was here right now.
Phoebe and I had been best friends starting in nursery school. There was a big table in our classroom filled with buckets and toys and salt instead of a sandbox. We were playing with it, and Phoebe dared me to eat a cup of salt. I tried to and threw up all over my blue jumper. Then both of us cried for the rest of the morning. We’ve been inseparable ever since.