the wax.
Relax
, he pleaded with himself.
Relax, but keep that edge the Judge is always talking about. That winning edge
.
It was then that he noticed Zack’s black Rossignols, resting in the slot next to where his own skis had been. Trancelike, he set his skis back in their place and then took a coin—a dime—from his pocket.
This would be his year. Next year would be Zack’s. That was the way it was meant to be
.
He glanced about. No one was watching. Using the coin, he loosened the toe-binding screws on one of Zack’s skis two turns—not enough to really feel different, just enough to lessen control a bit, to widen each turn a few inches, to preserve his three-second edge.
It was his year. His last chance. In fact, he was doing Zack a favor, ensuring that should he fall, the ski would come free and help keep him from a serious ankle injury
.
But there would be no fall. No injury. Just a few inches at each gate. Just a few fractions of a second. Just enough. Next year was time enough for Zack. Then the Judge would have two Junior Olympians to boast about. It was the best way for everyone. The way things were meant to be. It was his year … his year.…
“Frank?”
The colors and sensations of that day faded as Lisette’s voice nudged its way into the scene.
Frank rubbed at his eyes and then pushed himself upright on the sofa. The fire he had built against the chill of the summer storm had dwindled to a few smoldering embers. His mouth tasted foul from the two scotches—or was it three?—he had buried, and his head was pounding at the temples.
“Honey, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, pawing at his eyes. “Just great.” It had been years since he had had that nightmare. Years.
“Frank, please, come to bed. It’s after one-thirty.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You were sleeping.”
“I wasn’t fucking sleeping. I was thinking.”
“Do you want anything? Some milk? A sandwich?”
“I told you, I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”
It was going to be bad
, he thought. He had fought the whole thing from the very beginning, but he hadn’t fought hard enough. The last thing he needed in life was his brother moving back to Sterling. And now, thanks to the Judge and goddamn Leigh Baron, here Zack was, and already playing hero. He should have fought harder. Baron ran Ultramed, but Davis was still
his
goddamn hospital, and he should have fought harder.
“Frank, honey,” Lisette said, “you say you’re fine, but I know that’s not true. You haven’t said a decent word to me all night
She tried to sweep his hair from his forehead, but he brushed her hand aside. Then he crossed unsteadily to the hearth, threw a log on the embers, and jabbed at it with the poker.
“That was quite a little show you put on this evening, Lisette,” he said thickly. “Quite a little show,”
“I don’t know what you’re: talking about. Really I don’t.”
“Oh, give me a break. I saw you standing back there mooning over my brother. And I’m sure I wasn’t the only one, either.”
“Honey, that’s crazy. I never …”
“Sure, like you never made love with him, either. Christ, it’s a wonder you didn’t rip your dress off right then and there in the kitchen.”
“Frank, please. You’ve been drinking. You only say things like that to me when you’ve been drinking. What you know about me and Zack is all there ever was. Nothing more. And certainly nothing that didn’t burn out years ago. I was excited about what he did for Annie, but so was everyone. Besides that I didn’t say three words to him all night. Now please, come to bed. Let me rub your back or something.”
“You go to bed. I’ll be up when I’m ready.”
“Frank, you believe ine, don’t you? I love you.”
“There’s only one reason, one explanation why he would have passed up all those big-time job opportunities to come back here,” he said, more to himself than to her. “One reason. And that’s to
Relax
, he pleaded with himself.
Relax, but keep that edge the Judge is always talking about. That winning edge
.
It was then that he noticed Zack’s black Rossignols, resting in the slot next to where his own skis had been. Trancelike, he set his skis back in their place and then took a coin—a dime—from his pocket.
This would be his year. Next year would be Zack’s. That was the way it was meant to be
.
He glanced about. No one was watching. Using the coin, he loosened the toe-binding screws on one of Zack’s skis two turns—not enough to really feel different, just enough to lessen control a bit, to widen each turn a few inches, to preserve his three-second edge.
It was his year. His last chance. In fact, he was doing Zack a favor, ensuring that should he fall, the ski would come free and help keep him from a serious ankle injury
.
But there would be no fall. No injury. Just a few inches at each gate. Just a few fractions of a second. Just enough. Next year was time enough for Zack. Then the Judge would have two Junior Olympians to boast about. It was the best way for everyone. The way things were meant to be. It was his year … his year.…
“Frank?”
The colors and sensations of that day faded as Lisette’s voice nudged its way into the scene.
Frank rubbed at his eyes and then pushed himself upright on the sofa. The fire he had built against the chill of the summer storm had dwindled to a few smoldering embers. His mouth tasted foul from the two scotches—or was it three?—he had buried, and his head was pounding at the temples.
“Honey, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, pawing at his eyes. “Just great.” It had been years since he had had that nightmare. Years.
“Frank, please, come to bed. It’s after one-thirty.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You were sleeping.”
“I wasn’t fucking sleeping. I was thinking.”
“Do you want anything? Some milk? A sandwich?”
“I told you, I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”
It was going to be bad
, he thought. He had fought the whole thing from the very beginning, but he hadn’t fought hard enough. The last thing he needed in life was his brother moving back to Sterling. And now, thanks to the Judge and goddamn Leigh Baron, here Zack was, and already playing hero. He should have fought harder. Baron ran Ultramed, but Davis was still
his
goddamn hospital, and he should have fought harder.
“Frank, honey,” Lisette said, “you say you’re fine, but I know that’s not true. You haven’t said a decent word to me all night
She tried to sweep his hair from his forehead, but he brushed her hand aside. Then he crossed unsteadily to the hearth, threw a log on the embers, and jabbed at it with the poker.
“That was quite a little show you put on this evening, Lisette,” he said thickly. “Quite a little show,”
“I don’t know what you’re: talking about. Really I don’t.”
“Oh, give me a break. I saw you standing back there mooning over my brother. And I’m sure I wasn’t the only one, either.”
“Honey, that’s crazy. I never …”
“Sure, like you never made love with him, either. Christ, it’s a wonder you didn’t rip your dress off right then and there in the kitchen.”
“Frank, please. You’ve been drinking. You only say things like that to me when you’ve been drinking. What you know about me and Zack is all there ever was. Nothing more. And certainly nothing that didn’t burn out years ago. I was excited about what he did for Annie, but so was everyone. Besides that I didn’t say three words to him all night. Now please, come to bed. Let me rub your back or something.”
“You go to bed. I’ll be up when I’m ready.”
“Frank, you believe ine, don’t you? I love you.”
“There’s only one reason, one explanation why he would have passed up all those big-time job opportunities to come back here,” he said, more to himself than to her. “One reason. And that’s to
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