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Truthfully, I thought it was for the best and I didn’t think she’d really notice. How wrong I was. I feel guilty now, realizing I hurt her, but what’s done is done.
“Let’s see, We can accommodate you for up to another month. Will you be staying that long?” Is she teasing me, or testing me? It’s too tough to tell.
“A day is fine. I have another competition coming up soon.”
“Then you should probably get going,” she says glibly as her fingers slap against the keys of the comm-pad.
Nodding my head, I can’t help but agree. I should’ve left days ago. A week ago, to be exact. Instead, I tell the lie of all lies.
“I’m taking advantage of the empty course. For training.”
“Sure,” she replies, looking at her computer and ignoring me with the kind of skill that could make my mother jealous. “Looks like you’re all set up, Mr. Garome. Will there be anything else?”
Part of me wants to speak, to break this awful forced awkwardness like ice with my climbing pick. But Mira’s determined face and wayward gaze are proof enough of a lost cause.
“No, thank you.”
These pert, meaningless conversations are all I have to look forward to in a day. I really should be packing up and moving on to Alavand. I can only ignore my mother’s pushing for so long. But every time I try to entertain the notion, I’m struck with pangs of guilt even more daunting than my current malaise.
Heading back to the icefalls, I dig my pick into the sheet, ready to make the ascent again, as I have day after day.
There has to be a way to get her off of my mind.
I figure it’s got to be somewhere on this sheet of ice, somewhere in the rhythmic taps of metal on ice and claws digging into sleet.
Just when I think I’ve hit clarity, my foothold slips, sending me down with a fresh spurt of adrenaline bursting through my veins. And then I see her face, just as my fingers reattach to the frozen handholds. For every moment free from her, I'm haunted by a thousand more when her memory comes sprinting back to mind.
Her smile when I reach the top is warmer than the sun hitting my flesh. Her laughter, when I look back down and see how far I've come, echoes through the valley below. I'm jealous of these hills. The walks she takes without me. Even the air shebreathes gets to enter her and be with her in a way that is wholly closed to me.
But then I think of the alternative. Blank stares across an empty dinner table. Watching my soul, or hers, disappear over a great expanse of peas and chicken. Suppose we did get together. How many happy years could we really expect before we resented the other’s very existence? Two? Maybe three?
No. I care about Mira too much to do that to her, to let us become like them. It’s only a matter of time.
And this feeling inside? Time will take care of that, too.
Yet another week trudges on. The same routine fills my days. I wake, I train. I eat, I train. If I could train in my sleep, I would. Instead, my brain puts me through its nightly ritual.
First, I'm running, jumping, ready to reach the final hold of the wall. Then I’m falling, my grip slipping as my feet go over my head. I never hit the ground, but I wake with a start all the same.
Night after night after night, the same dreams churn from the same routine. I’m so exhausted I can hardly take it anymore. My tired eyes feel like they’ve been running a marathon in my sleep. My muscles freeze with the sting of morning’s frigid clime.
I've wound myself like a clock these past weeks, but I just don’t know if I have the energy to bring up the key again. It all feels heavier than the day before.
Plodding to the side table, I grasp for the pitcher to cure my thirst. Water sloshes down my throat, but a desert hangs in my mouth. My shoes feel weightier going on my feet, and every step drags more from me with each thunk of my feet across the hotel room floor.
I see Mira on my way down to the lobby, but I just don't have the heart for her cold stares. Not today.
Once again, I'm the only one on the course this morning. I was lying before about wanting to train alone, but, as the weeks have dragged on, I've come to appreciate the silence.My frustrations lie with me and the snow, muffled to the very ground with each flake that falls.
I need this. Solitude. Not envious climbers pestering me for tips. I have enough distractions as it is. Mira’s face for one. Her body.
Fuck. Why did I have to think about her body? The final edge of the icefall spreads before me, that tricky slippery final hold that has claimed so many climbers before me. My claws fiddle with a jagged edge looking for safety, but Mira’s legs wrapped around mine demand my attention instead.
I remember the way she felt that first time she pulled me into her kiss. It was so unexpected. I’m not exactly small, but she clambered into me like she was starved. It felt so good, those brief delightful moments.
Now, silence tends to my heart like a soothing hand. I’m kicking myself that I didn’t give myself more time with her. I might have been able to at least enjoy more of my time here, now that I think about it.
Regret crosses my face for the tiniest moment as my claws break the ice. I can feel my weight start to slip.
