“I’ll be there, sir.”
“And if you and Wylie run afoul of each other on the X Course that day, I expect sportsmanship out of you — in spite of your empty and theatrical threat.”
Sky absorbed this body blow with a nod, vowing to reverse its sharp thrust and, like a hapkido master, convert its power to his own. It was all in the plan. “No, sir. My threat is not empty.”
“Focus on the race,” said Adam.
“I have done that, G-pa. You’ll see.”
But Sky knew that words would not satisfy his grandfather. Not after so many wasted ones. So many false starts, broken promises, bold declarations that amounted, in the end, to nothing. Which is why he was looking forward to G-pa’s reaction when he won the cup. That victory would wipe the doubt from G-pa’s face once and for all. Wipe it right off, Sky. I never could. With the Gargantua Cup victory, Sky would step forth into the world as a fully emerged man, a man respected, a man whose word was his bond. Sky breathed slowly and deeply, banishing all negativity, or most of it. He was surprised to hear the Black Not lurking so close by, so soon after their last episode.
“Sir, may I say something about Sky’s alleged threat?” said Antoinette.
“Of course you may.”
Antoinette stood and clasped her dainty hands together in front of her, like a student preparing to give a speech. “Sky and I have had some long talks about Wylie Welborn, and the... promise that Sky made at Mountain High that night. Sky’s public vow was to punish Wylie if he knocked Sky — or anyone else — off the X Course again. It was a promise to the mountain and to any person on it.” Sky watched Antoinette’s hands release each other as she looked at Adam and Teresa in turn. “But — and this is what everyone seems to forget — in one wonderful, beautiful, gracious moment, Sky Carson followed up by saying he would withdraw his threat if Wylie would apologize for what he had done. Sky was willing to forgive Wylie, and he said so, publicly. It was the moral thing to do. But no apology came. Instead, Wylie sucker punched Sky in the restaurant for no reason, and they’ve not said a word since.”
Antoinette swung back her shiny black mane and cast a firm look at Adam. She had delivered comparable speeches to Sky, though on differing subjects. He loved them. They were always truthful and persuasive. And in that clear voice, they were tonally beautiful, too, like a Sierra creek or rain on a roof. Antoinette’s speeches seemed to run on their own fuel. Now she walked around the wing chairs and the big couch, circling back to where she’d started.
“So,” she continued. “What we came up with was that Sky and Wylie should sit down together alone and talk it all out. The sooner the better. Wylie can apologize in private, and Sky can retract his threat without losing face. Because — and here’s the heart of it, sir — Sky doesn’t need this hanging over him before the race. It’s a burden. He loses sleep over it. He obsesses. It eats away at him. Sky doesn’t want to ‘punish’ Wylie at all. He only wants the apology and an acknowledgment of truth. It doesn’t have to go viral, or even be public.”
“So the threat is empty,” said Adam.
“No, Grandpa,” said Sky, summoning calm. “I mean what I said. I mean it... thoroughly. Shouldn’t you be trying to talk me out of it?”
“But the whole point is, Sky will retract it for the apology,” said Antoinette. “This is a mark of good character, sir, and Teresa. And a way to get this thing off his back and win the cup. That’s all he wants for now. So, with that in mind, we were hoping you could bring them together, sir. Sky and Wylie. Maybe right here in this beautiful room. They’ll talk if you order them to talk. You alone. They respect you more than anybody on Earth.”
Sky watched his grandfather pry his gaze away from Antoinette, glance at Teresa, then slowly rise. It took him longer and longer these days. He certainly was tall. The room was quiet enough for Sky to hear his grandfather’s joints crack. Adam walked slowly and steadily toward Antoinette, who stood waiting for him in the middle of the room.
Adam nodded and offered his hand and she shook it.
For Sky, the next hour of conversation was a pleasure. He mostly listened. His grandfather and Teresa prodded Antoinette with questions about her family and childhood, and Antoinette responded with all her natural charm and easy grace. That voice of hers was so clear and bright. He learned some more things about her, too — that her community-college-speech-teacher father spoke four languages; her eldest sister had died at birth; her mother, a trial attorney, ran triathlons and was now on her fourth marriage. One of the things that Sky first loved about Antoinette was her reaction to the fate of his father at the hands of his mother. “What a terrific loss for everyone,” she had said, brown eyes becoming wet.
Sky gazed down the mountain to the bustling little village. The eastern sky looked like powdered lead and he’d heard that more snow was on the way. He could feel his own inner barometer lowering in response to this minor snowfall and the promise of more on the way. When he smelled something markedly appetizing wafting into the room, his grandfather asked, “Are you still eating that slime instead of real food?”
“Sir, yes, sir. It’s called Soylent. I’m supernaturally strong now. I’ve clocked a fifty-nine-second X Course run on the Imagery Beast. The first ever.”
“But not on the real X Course.”
“There’s no snow on the real X Course.”
“Under one minute?”
“Fifty-nine point seven five.”
His grandfather nodded. “Well. Nice. Teresa has made us up some venison chili that is excellent, and ready to be served. Please stay for lunch.”
After lunch, Antoinette wanted to see Robert again. Sky was intrigued and impressed that she had developed such a lasting affection for Robert, having taken ski lessons from him five years ago, when she was fourteen. Cynthia let them in, touched Sky’s newly colored hair, and reported that Robert had been communicating more clearly these last few days — sometimes by fluttering an eyelid, sometimes by subtle changes in respiration. Robert’s fiancée, Hailee, was there, too, and to Sky she looked disheveled and dispirited.
They stood in the warm bedroom, the blinds open to let in the autumn light. Sky greeted Robert cheerfully, touching his hair and face. Antoinette reintroduced herself as one of Robert’s students from five years ago. She recalled that her first run with Robert had been down Schoolyard. She told him she still loved to ski. Hailee stared wordlessly.
Then Cynthia bored in close, face-to-face with Robert, and told him about the last snowstorm — which had dropped six very nice inches — and the storm forecast for later that night, which was supposed to be heavier. “I know how much you love the snow,” she said. “Don’t you, Robbie?” They waited a long moment in silence for either the eyelid flutter or respiration-rate change.
“Might be asleep,” said Sky.
“Quite certainly,” said Cynthia.
“You’re beautiful, Robert,” said Antoinette.
Sky watched Hailee turn, hugging herself, and leave the room.
“No room onboard for the unhopeful,” said Cynthia. “There, did you see that? Left eyelid. His response is not always immediate.”
“Yeah,” said Sky. “Pretty sure I saw it.”
Sky drove Antoinette back to her apartment. They stopped off at Von’s for a few things she needed. As they were crossing the parking lot Megan and Johnny Maines and Ivan the Terrier all paraded past.
“Mahalo, bitches!” Johnny called out, waving. “I’ve got money on you for the Mammoth Cup, Sky! Don’t let Wylie Welborn butt you off that mountain again!”