without comment, but a few seconds later she’s back. “How can you even see where you’re going?”
“This is Vail. It’s a small village situated in a very narrow valley between two giant mountains alongside a major highway. There’s really nowhere to go.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not a local, so pardon me.”
I ignore that and stop the van at the security gate that leads to our driveway. I open the window and the baby bellows out a wail when the wind blows snow in. I key in the code and the gate slides open. “If I had come last night, I’d never have made it past the gate with the snow. So good thing I didn’t try, I guess.”
She says nothing to that, just looks back at the baby with a concerned expression.
I close the window but the infant is not so easily consoled. At least the property management people plowed the driveway. Otherwise this stupid van really would’ve bottomed out on the way up. We climb slowly, the girl letting out a few gasps as we slip around, the all-wheel drive kicking in just in time. And then it flattens out and I pull around the side of the house to the garage. “Stay here, I have no garage door opener so I have to key it open with a code.”
I jump out and pick my way over to the door, minding the slick covering of ice under my dress shoes, then open the garage. The girl has jumped into the driver’s seat and she pulls the van in, looking like she’s trying hard to concentrate on doing a good job parking.
What have I started here? I’m not sure, but yesterday and today seem like two different lifetimes. Unrelated in almost every way.
The girl jumps out and swings the back seat door open. The baby is sprinkled with snow, her eyes closed, but her little mouth is scrunched up like she’s ready to lose it. “Oh no!” The girl bites her lip and looks back at me.
“What?” I ask.
“All our clothes and stuff are back in my car. I have a few diapers and a clean t-shirt for her, but not much else.” She looks at me like she’s afraid I’ll bite her head off over this.
“What?” I ask, annoyed with that expression.
“You’ll have to take me back. I’m sorry. Really, I know I’m a major pain in your ass right now—”
“Save it.” I hold up a hand and grab her bag from the floor and then move out of the way so she can unhook that baby contraption from the seat belts. “We have to go back out anyway. I just wanted to come check on things before I went to the store. There’s nothing in this house to eat, and aside from tap water coming through pipes that have been sitting for two years, and some very fucking expensive Scotch whiskey, nothing to drink either. So there’s no way we’re not going back out. And since the Safeway is on the west side of the village, we have to go past the garage again anyway.”
“Oh, good.” She lets out a long breath of relief as she lifts the carrier out of the back seat and we walk over to the door that leads to the house. “OK. Thanks so much for your help. The room, the car. I’ll pay you back.”
I wave her through the door, then flip on the lights. “There’s no need, really. And I’m not trying to have a polite argument about it, I seriously don’t want or need your money. So drop it.”
I catch the dirty look from the corner of my eye, but she holds her response back.
I do not care at this moment because I am back in our family home. I walk through the kitchen, drop the baby stuff on the granite island, and then walk into the middle of the living room and look around.
Dark hardwood floors. Everything is shades of black, white, and gray. It’s got a minimalist feel.
“It’s nice,” the girls says as she looks around. “Not how I expected a house in Vail to look—I figured ski lodge people would have rustic homes. But still, it’s nice.”
“It’s horrible.” And it is. Ultra-modern—just like my downtown Denver condo. My parents hated this look, but they redid this house and let me pick the designer.
“This is Vail. It’s a small village situated in a very narrow valley between two giant mountains alongside a major highway. There’s really nowhere to go.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not a local, so pardon me.”
I ignore that and stop the van at the security gate that leads to our driveway. I open the window and the baby bellows out a wail when the wind blows snow in. I key in the code and the gate slides open. “If I had come last night, I’d never have made it past the gate with the snow. So good thing I didn’t try, I guess.”
She says nothing to that, just looks back at the baby with a concerned expression.
I close the window but the infant is not so easily consoled. At least the property management people plowed the driveway. Otherwise this stupid van really would’ve bottomed out on the way up. We climb slowly, the girl letting out a few gasps as we slip around, the all-wheel drive kicking in just in time. And then it flattens out and I pull around the side of the house to the garage. “Stay here, I have no garage door opener so I have to key it open with a code.”
I jump out and pick my way over to the door, minding the slick covering of ice under my dress shoes, then open the garage. The girl has jumped into the driver’s seat and she pulls the van in, looking like she’s trying hard to concentrate on doing a good job parking.
What have I started here? I’m not sure, but yesterday and today seem like two different lifetimes. Unrelated in almost every way.
The girl jumps out and swings the back seat door open. The baby is sprinkled with snow, her eyes closed, but her little mouth is scrunched up like she’s ready to lose it. “Oh no!” The girl bites her lip and looks back at me.
“What?” I ask.
“All our clothes and stuff are back in my car. I have a few diapers and a clean t-shirt for her, but not much else.” She looks at me like she’s afraid I’ll bite her head off over this.
“What?” I ask, annoyed with that expression.
“You’ll have to take me back. I’m sorry. Really, I know I’m a major pain in your ass right now—”
“Save it.” I hold up a hand and grab her bag from the floor and then move out of the way so she can unhook that baby contraption from the seat belts. “We have to go back out anyway. I just wanted to come check on things before I went to the store. There’s nothing in this house to eat, and aside from tap water coming through pipes that have been sitting for two years, and some very fucking expensive Scotch whiskey, nothing to drink either. So there’s no way we’re not going back out. And since the Safeway is on the west side of the village, we have to go past the garage again anyway.”
“Oh, good.” She lets out a long breath of relief as she lifts the carrier out of the back seat and we walk over to the door that leads to the house. “OK. Thanks so much for your help. The room, the car. I’ll pay you back.”
I wave her through the door, then flip on the lights. “There’s no need, really. And I’m not trying to have a polite argument about it, I seriously don’t want or need your money. So drop it.”
I catch the dirty look from the corner of my eye, but she holds her response back.
I do not care at this moment because I am back in our family home. I walk through the kitchen, drop the baby stuff on the granite island, and then walk into the middle of the living room and look around.
Dark hardwood floors. Everything is shades of black, white, and gray. It’s got a minimalist feel.
“It’s nice,” the girls says as she looks around. “Not how I expected a house in Vail to look—I figured ski lodge people would have rustic homes. But still, it’s nice.”
“It’s horrible.” And it is. Ultra-modern—just like my downtown Denver condo. My parents hated this look, but they redid this house and let me pick the designer.
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