White Ivy(35)
Ivy drew back.
Marybeth said, “I think it’s bedtime.”
Tom blinked. He set his drink on the table and yawned. “Didn’t mean to push… Please excuse me. I’m going to bed.” He looked at Marybeth. Marybeth looked at Gideon. Ivy looked down at her lap. The ink from her lesson plans had bled onto her damp fingers.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, she convinced Gideon that she wanted time to practice by herself. After making sure she was able to get off the lift on her own, he disappeared to find Tom and Marybeth on the black diamonds. Ivy bore through the pain but on her second run, her legs simply gave out and she tumbled violently down a hill and skidded into the marked-off terrain on the side of the slope. She unstrapped her skis and walked all the way back down. She went to the lodge. The breakfast crowd was still thick at nine in the morning. She purchased coffee, a plate of eggs, ham, beans on toast, and an enormous slice of apple pie, eating everything in great greedy mouthfuls, barely chewing, burning her mouth with a large gulp of coffee. Around her, people clomped around in heavy boots, the snowboarders dressed extravagantly in colorful gear, the skiers sleek and elegant in their fur-lined jackets.
After she finished eating, she relocated to a recently vacated chair by the window. She sat, facing the slopes, and she waited. She’d brought no book or magazine, and her phone had no service. There was nothing to distract her as she waited for the people she’d come with. If they decided to abandon her here, there was nothing she could do. Ridiculous really, how one could attach oneself to strangers and pretend it was normal. Are you fucking joking? Joking, always joking… Am I a joke to them, she wondered. Were the three of them together now, laughing about her? She looked at the landscape outside. The spots of brown peeking underneath the branches of the trees in the distance sent a shot of loneliness through her.
When Gideon came in for lunch, she waved him over and pretended she’d just come in not too long ago.
“How was it?” Gideon asked, apple-cheeked, exuding vitality.
“Fine,” she said with a tight smile. “Fell a few times. I was getting sore so I called it a day. Where are Tom and Marybeth?”
Gideon shrugged. “Not sure… I’ve been on my own all morning. They’re probably on the moguls, but these old things can’t keep up.” He patted his knees.
He’d been on his own all morning…! There was nothing like dissipating paranoia to make a person feel so giddy and gay… Ivy wanted to laugh and cheer and say frivolous things. Sensing the change in her, Gideon grinned and said, “I think I’ll hang out with you here after lunch.”
“Let’s get dessert,” Ivy said joyfully.
They found two armchairs in the smaller dining room, next to the bar. A band was setting up in the corner. Gideon ordered two hot toddies. “You’ve never had one of these?” he said in amazement when Ivy asked what it was. “Never,” she said. She drank three. It was so delicious she wanted to cry.
That evening, the four of them relaxed in the hot tub on the balcony of their villa. The temperature was a cool fifteen degrees, the black night lit with a million stars. In the distance came the twinkling lights from the little ski village below where they’d had dinner: cheese fondue and poutine. This time, Ivy kept the fact that she’d never tried either to herself.
Tom and Marybeth, having exerted all their aggression skiing, were in an agreeable mood and kissing in the water. The green strap of Marybeth’s string bikini was partially untied, trailing behind her back like a blade of grass. On the opposite end of the half circle sat Gideon, the steam rising over his handsome face, his eyes gazing into the distant mountains. Ivy floated over to him.
“Where are you thinking?”
He smiled at her. “There are two places I love most—here and our cottage in Cattahasset. Give me mountains and water and I’m a happy man.”
She thanked him for keeping her company today.
“I had a good time.” His toe touched hers under the water. Their eyes unwillingly fell on Marybeth and Tom.
“Ivy?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m going to kiss you now.” And he did.
How did it feel? It felt as light and buoyant as the stars above, watching over them in their cold, distant glory.
9
THEIR FOURSOME WAS A REGULAR fixture at Boston’s best brunch and seafood spots that winter. Platters of oysters doused with sriracha and lemon, creamy clam chowders bubbling in sourdough bread bowls, sweet and tender lobster meat dripping with butter. And how lovely the city looked in winter! The dreamy glitter of fresh snow, the cold noonday sun, the nippy air carrying with it smells of earth, sap, the impending whiff of spring. Never before had Ivy found her students, especially Arabella, so pleasant and endearing, eternal sources of stories for Gideon. They all had their roles in the new group—Gideon, the voice of reason; Marybeth, the instigator; Tom, the talker, the one whose moods they all navigated around; and Ivy, the outsider, someone they showed off for yet took for granted. The temporary distraction.
Only she wasn’t. She stuck around.
She waited a month before sleeping with Gideon. It happened on Valentine’s Day. After drinks at the Hotel Commonwealth, he took her back to his studio apartment. Exposed brick walls, bay windows, marine-blue bathroom tiles so cool and polished they appeared fluorescent, like being inside an aquarium. “S-sorry for the m-me-me-mess.” He glanced around vaguely, lifted a pile of books off the sofa, put them back down again without purpose. Ivy’s heart softened. This was the real Gideon, she thought. The one who stuttered when he was nervous. The one who couldn’t meet her eye. She was always looking for the real Gideon. She never stopped to wonder what would happen should she find him one day. “It’s wonderful,” she said before pulling him down on top of her.