Scott and Katie’s Apartment
Big Bear Lake, California
December 21, 2012
7:32 AM
My alarm went off and I woke up into a world of post-pleasure.
Scott turned off the alarm and pulled himself off the bed, having to untangle himself from the blankets first. Some of them moved away from my bare back, tickling me. Slowly opening my eyes, my head was buried in my pillow with my hair covering most of my face, obscuring my sight of Grizzly Summit in the bedroom window. I heard Scott stretch, his back making cracking sounds, but the backache was a good one.
There was no other sound other than Scott opening the door to the bathroom. No war, no fire crackling in the distance, no demons killing people, no burning buildings, not even the clear blue sky was aflame. It seemed that to me, from my knowledge of mystical history, the Mayan myths were nothing but myths. I turned over, stretched my arms over me, saw the ceiling fan motionless, and then raked my hair away from my face. I pulled the blanket up over my naked chest. The sound of the shower running was resonated through our apartment and I was happy that it wasn’t a shower of scalding lava.
Scott came out a few minutes later into the bedroom with a white towel wrapped around his waist. He was a bit overweight, around two thirty pounds. His brown hair was combed back and still moist, shining in the peeking sunlight along with his pale skin. The Celtic pendent still hung on his neck and over his heart.
Upon everything else, he also had scars, but they weren’t from any bar fights. They were remnants of a brutal moment in his life, something both of us and my family weren’t comfortable talking about. Mind you, it wasn’t from his parents, they loved him. Paler than his skin, the scars were located on his wrists and lower arms, the right side of his chest, over his liver, and a vertical one on the left side of his neck. On top of the weight, the scars were a painful reminder.
He went to the closet across from me, but caught me staring. I smiled.
“I lost ten pounds in the last week, Katie,” he said, almost whispering. “I was very good on my diet.”
“Wahoo,” I cheered with my arms in the air and giggled a little. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and read the time. “You should get ready, Scott, or you’re going to be late on your last day of work.”
He nodded and opened the doors, pulling out his ski resort gear. He put on a pair of light brown cargo khakis, black work boots, a green shirt proudly showing off Grizzly Summit’s name and logo, name tag, and hid his necklace underneath his shirt.
He walked to our bed and leaned over me, giving me a morning kiss. As we kissed, I could taste the minty flavor of his mouthwash on his lips.
“You know, I am glad the world didn’t come to an end.” Scott spoke softly.
“Me too,” I said.
“After work, I’ll finish packing. See you soon.” He left after grabbing his coat and scarf, leaving me alone. I heard the car start and drive off.
Several minutes later, while I was remembering last night, my cell phone rang from the kitchen and I had to fight through the blankets. Only in my underwear, I ran and grabbed my phone from the kitchen counter before the call went to voicemail.
“Hello?”
“Morning, Kitty, and Merry Christmas.” I knew the voice and what she said wasn’t what I wanted to wake up too, the nickname part I mean.
“Mom, I’m not ten anymore. You can stop that you know.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m only missing you. Everybody else is already here for Christmas and waiting for you two to come home.”
“Yeah, I get it. How’s Dad? Has he stopped being a worry wart about the Mayan calendar?” I went back to the bedroom for my robe. I had to juggle the phone while pulling it on.
“He’s calmed down a bit. I have as well. You know he almost stayed up all night guarding the front door with the shotgun until Robert told him to get to bed. And you were right, Katie, nothing happened.” She sighed, knowing she had made the right choice.
I wrapped the robe around myself and tied the belt around my stomach. “Does this mean you’ll stop worrying too and go on vacations as normal?” Running a winery is stressful, especially when you have to get the merlot and chardonnay perfect in taste and color.
“Not quite. I want to wait out the drama in the news. I’m still feeling off about the religious freaks out there.”
“Good point.” The last thing my family needed was something depressing on the trip back. I could imagine Tom popping out of nowhere.
I heard a door open and close on the other end. After living there all my life, I knew that it was the heavy oak door from the wine store next to the warehouse.
“Brenda, who’s that on the phone?” My Dad asked. Mom told him and he responded with, “Tell her to hurry up, the wine is selling and I don’t have my star stock and sample girl to help.”
Dad always said that in a time of fast money, like in year 2012, the alcohol sold out more than anything else. From what I could hear of the chatter of the wine tasters through the phone, it seemed that I was missing the holiday season excitement.
“Thanks Dad.” Mom reiterated my comment. “What about Robert and Jared? I suppose they’re pulling their weight as well?” I sat down on the foot of the bed.
“Oh, they are, don’t fret.” She paused. “Hang on, Robert wants to say something.”
Robert is my big brother, just three years older than me; he’s the family jokester and freelance ghost investigator. Oh yeah, he chases ghosts. Kind of cool ain’t it?
Robert voice came on the line. “Hey, Katie. Do me a favor and bring me presents!”
I laughed. “Stop bugging me or you won’t get anything for Christmas. Is Jared staying out of trouble?” Jared is the youngest out of my siblings. He has a habit of starting trouble and blaming it on the closest person he can find.
“Yeah, I have him with me at the register bagging the goods, very carefully. I got to go; Mom still wants to talk to you.”
The phone switched hands again. “So when are you coming back home since the world is not ending?”
“Tomorrow morning, like we discussed. Once Scott closes the lease and the car’s all packed, we’re leaving. We’ll see you in time for dinner, if the traffic isn’t too bad.”
“Why not right now?”
“Mom, don’t rush us.”
“Okay.” She paused again, longer this time, and then she said, “You know, I never understood why you had to go with him at a time like this. You two could’ve been happier here than the mountains.”
“Mom,” I said feeling stern, and my words showed. “It was my choice. Scott needs to get his life together and he can’t do it alone. Please, Mom, I don’t want this talk again.” I rubbed my knee from an imaginary ache. That talk with her took everything out of me when we moved to Big Bear. “I love him. Enough said. What am I supposed to do? Lay around at the winery writing while Scott works at a bar earning less tips than a ski resort?”
She was quiet for a second. Her huff expressed her frustration with me. “Right, sorry for bringing it up. How is he?”
“Happy, as he’s supposed to be.”
“Good. Well, I gotta go help Dad in the warehouse. Be careful, Katie.”
“Thanks Mom. See you later.” I hung up and sighed, whining to let out the tension.
It felt as if all my happiness was sucked out of me by Mom’s voice. Hearing her worry about us is enough to drive me crazy. I had to drown out that phone conversation. I went for a shower.
Dressed in a short sleeve shirt and jeans, I waited for my coffee to finish brewing as I made a small egg sandwich. My to-do list was to gather up all of my stuff in boxes and clean the bathroom. Half of Scott’s things were already packed and the rest was sitting around waiting to be stored into boxes. Scott had his things left as half of his stuff was packed. Everything else we would leave for the complex’s cleaning crew with an extra cover charge. There was no need to waste more time.
I set my breakfast on the coffee table near my MacBook and opened the balcony window’s blinds. I saw parts of the lake and the shopping centers to the East; the sun reflecting off the snow was bright enough to make me squint. The Christmas decorations on most of the apartments made me homesick.
I sat down on the couch with my coffee. I had to get some writing done before packing or I would feel off for the rest of the day. I turned on the TV and flipped between news channels, holiday shows, and infomercials. A special report aired on Asteroid Helen, with Dr. Maggie Helen telling the world that science was right for once.
*****
Summit Inn, Grizzly Summit
11:31 AM
After being two minutes late because of me and fifty other cars parking at the same time, getting past ticket lines stretching more than a school bus, say good morning to Ashley at her booth, and hearing skiers and snowboarders expressing their feelings of the non-apocalyptic day, I knew very well that the mountain was sold out.
Let the Advil fall like rain.
Since Mike and I were off work last night, the two rookies had taken over our spots. It was no surprise that the cleaning hadn’t been looked over twice.
I looked at a shattered stein glass under a table near the bar and sighed. I grabbed a broom and dustpan, swept up the big pieces, and told one of the new guys in our group to grab the vacuum.
“These rookies aren’t as good as they used to be. Only joking, kid,” Mike said to one while washing glasses and tap spigots.
I snorted and dumped the dustpan’s contents in the nearest trashcan. Walking back to the bar I asked, “So, did you do anything else when we left?”
Mike was reinstalling the cleaned spigots for the taps. His green uniform shirt had a large water spot on his belly from being pressed against the sink. “Nothing big. Ashley went to the bedroom and prayed for an hour and I watched South Park. It’s just sad that it was the only entertainment on with no news reels clogging up the TV screen.” He stopped on the third tap and jabbed a finger at me. “And don’t tell me what you two did, your relationship is like an open book to the whole mountain.”
I laughed and began drying off the glasses and stacking them on the shelves.
We both worked in the bar, situated in the top floor of the main building at the base of the slopes. The bar room wasn’t very big, but it housed ski memorabilia dating back to the early fifties and sixties when the resort first opened. A main staircase opposite the bar area ran down to the first floor, where they served biscuits and gravy for breakfast and clam chowder for lunch. Of course they cooked more stuff, but those were the ones I liked. Some skiers were sitting in chairs on the balcony that was separated from the room by a window. Beyond the balcony, the quad was crowded with riders.
The new guy finished his work and Mike and I prepped the bar. As he went down, Andrew Banks came up after him, an old guy of sorts with salt and peppered hair and a thin body. He was also my boss. He had a limp in his left leg that didn’t bend as it should. We were never told how he got it, I always thought it was a stroke. Limping to the bar, he carried his all-important clipboard of truck deliveries, employee schedules, and notes of the day’s events. Andrew wore the same clothes as the rest of us, including a black vest with the company’s logo and pins commemorating the seasons he had worked for them.
“Mike, Scott, guess what,” he said with his hoarse voice and placed the clipboard on the bar, “we got a problem.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked once I had finished with cleaning and had leaned my back against the bar.
“We are totally out of the money makers, and I mean out. Gone. Kaput.” When he talks about money makers, he means the Bud and the Coors.
“Are you serious?” Mike questioned. “Yesterday morning we had ten crates worth. Are we getting picked on again?”
Andrew shook his head, chuckling. “No, they have their own stock. I’m expecting a delivery sometime after one, but I’m just afraid of them canceling on us for what this stupid day caused.”
“Or the tourists getting mad,” I added.
“That we can handle,” Mike said resting his arms on the bar. “As long as we tell them what we have left, we will be just fine, unless we’re gonna have one of those days.” He was referring to the rush days; the bad ones with impatient people.
“It will not. Glad Helen is leaving as we speak.” Andrew sounded a little relieved.
Andrew was also worried about Helen, being superstitious as he was. It made me laugh when I caught him freaking out seeing a black cat, an open ladder, or a clumsy skier dropping a saltshaker on the floor, but he was a good boss and usually kept his personal dilemmas out of his job.
Once Mike told him we were ready to start the day, sort of, Andrew asked me to come outside. I nodded and followed him.
Andrew asked the new bartender, a twenty-four year old woman with short blond hair from Sugarloaf, to take over for me. We both went out onto the balcony. A slow, cold winter breeze brushed my cheeks. Large crowds of riders were below us as the closest lift had a line clear to the end of the walkway. I heard the TVs inside turn on as Mike started making drinks at noon sharp.
We walked to the nearest bench next to the door, near the edge of the balcony’s handrails. Andrew had trouble sitting down due to his leg, but managed, and grunted as he sat. I sat down next to him and folded my hands.
“Been meaning to talk to you since last Wednesday after work but didn’t get around to doing it,” he started. “From what Mike mentioned, you’re leaving the mountain for bigger opportunities.”
I nodded with a big smile on my face and told him my plans.
“Hey, good for you, Scott. I’m proud you kept working on your education, but it’s too bad on my end. I’m losing the friendliest bartender I’ve had in years.”
“Thanks,” I said with a small laugh in my voice.
“No, I mean it, creating the ‘Blood Oyster’ was a highlight. Not the best thing I’ve tasted but it’s a working idea.”
I laughed as the memory came back to me.
“Yeah,” I said after my laughter died down. “That was one successful failure. Good times.”
“It sure was,” Andrew said looking at his watch. “We better get going before the rush kicks in. Amazing how time flies.”
We both sat up but Andrew extended a hand to me before he stood. “Scott, just reminding you, you are welcome to come back anytime you want.”
I thanked him and shook his hand with a firm grip. Just then, out of nowhere, an ear-piercing scream and heavy banging against the floor came from the bar.
“What in the world?” I asked. “I’ll check it out.”
It definitely sounded like a woman screaming for her life, as if she had seen a mouse cross her path. I didn’t recognize the voice, but loud gasps followed. I entered through the door.
There might’ve been ten, maybe fifteen people in the room, all looking towards the TVs. I was too preoccupied with the scream and found the woman at the bottom of the bar, back pressed against the wall and grasping hard onto a toppled bar stool. I knew she was going to be trouble from her appearance: white jacket with a light brown fur hood, black shirt caressing her outrageously plump breasts, white ski pants so tight it was like they were painted on, white ski boots, black goggles over her long bleached blonde hair, and I kid you not, gold earrings with expensive looking black gems. I figured she was from Beverly Hills, so in my mind, I called her Pearl. Her eyes were wide and staring straight at the TVs, her jaw quivering in fear.
I knelt down next to her and managed to make get her to let go of the stool. “Miss, are you okay?”
Her eyes were wide with fear, which made me worry even more.
“Th-that bitch,” she whispered. “Maggie said it was not going to come, she fucking said so. That bitch is turning.”
Okay, she must already be drunk or something, I thought. “Miss, who’s turning?”
She slowly panned her head to look at me. Tears ran down her cheeks, taking some mascara along for the ride. All she said was “Helen” and went back gazing at the TV as before.
My mouth dropped, my eyes became wide as hers, and I turned my head to the TV. It was impossible to believe it, but it was happening. I caught Mike behind the bar, frozen and gripping onto the bar well. The TVs were hung on the separate antique chair lifts, broadcasting CNN, volume high. The snowboarders were starting to panic.
At that moment, I was scared to death for the first time in over two and a half years.