Chapter 5
GRACE
TWENTY-FOUR HOUR
I don’t know what karmic good graces I’ve finally conjured up, but the twenty-four hour gym in Jackson has turned into my safe haven.
One thing I learned from all my van trips over the years is that the two S’s — sleep and showers — can’t be overvalued.
Jackson has limited campgrounds, especially in the winter, and they are so dang expensive.
Even after I bought my van while I was in college, I still had savings left over from my settlement after the accident. I’ve done a good job of keeping that nest egg for emergencies and I don’t want to burn it on campgrounds. I want that money to be there for when I really need it.
Normally, when I’m in town, I just stay with my grandparents. If I want my own space, I’ll park my van behind Tanner’s barn. It’s the ideal spot, close to his cabin, where I can get a shower, and have access to electric to recharge the van batteries.
Of course, doing that now would mean having to explain why I’ve still been in town for the last week, and not back in Utah.
Clay and Lizzy have been so busy with their own post-engagement celebrating they haven’t noticed yet.
Tanner’s gone with Veronica on their ski road trip honeymoon.
He loved my van enough that he eventually built his own, so he could take trips and bring his dog, Rex.
Which means V’s brother, Collin, is housesitting for them and would know I’m around.
Enter my new home away from home: the twenty-four hour gym.
On days like this, where I know I can get a hot shower after my run on the treadmill, I’m glad that Josie shared that little life hack.
Even in a pinch, I can sometimes get away with parking overnight and sleeping in their lot.
If anyone asks why I’m here in the middle of the night, I just say I was here for a workout.
Obviously, it helps me stay in shape too.
Taking care of my body was something that became a priority after spending weeks in a hospital bed, and then months in physical therapy.
It was so easy to take my health for granted before, but I will always prioritize it now.
It’s not for looks, it’s not for vanity, it’s because I never want to feel like a prisoner to my own body again.
I love being able to go on a long hike or backcountry ski just because.
My mind will always be that free and I owe it to myself to make sure my body will keep pace.
I reach down to increase the speed on the treadmill, but stop when the music cuts out. Looking at my phone, I feel a smile spread across my face when I see the name. Speak of the devil herself.
I swipe to answer the call. “What’s up, girl?”
“Just making dinner after skiing.” I hear the sound of pots and pans banging in the background. “Figured we should chat about meeting up in Jackson. I am so excited to see your face.”
I met Josie in college. She dropped out after our freshman year, when she rented a van that summer to visit national parks.
She’s been living full time in her custom van ever since.
While I love van life for short stints, I don’t know how she does it full time.
It takes a whole different level of determination and independence to not have a place to come back to, when you just need a breather from being on the road.
“You’re already bored of Taos, aren't you?” I tease.
She scoffs, her normal reaction to getting called out on her constant on-the-go ways. I can just picture the dismissive hand wave she’s making right now.
“No. It’s a cool mountain. I just miss you.
” I’m starting to feel like I’ve been a bad friend because I miss her too.
Blocking the guilt, I reach down to slow the speed on my treadmill, winding down my run.
“You’re my backcountry buddy. There’s no way I’m skiing out of bounds if you’re not with me. ”
Skiing in the wilderness, outside of the confines of a ski resort, chasing down untracked stashes of snow has been a passion of mine ever since my mom first took me out with my brothers. “What day are you getting to town? Maybe we can get a backcountry day in?”
“I’m going to head up to Utah first, ski around the Cottonwood Canyons before I head to you. Need me to grab anything from your place while I’m nearby?”
This is why Josie is my best friend. Outside of Kayleigh, and now I guess TJ, she's the only one that knows I got laid off and that I'm taking some time for myself. She would totally go an hour out of her way to my apartment without a second thought.
“If you end up nearby, I have one request.”
I hear Josie’s manic laughter on the other end. “Oh my god, did you forget your vibrator? Do you need me to go through your nightstand and pick one out for you? I would be honored.”
“Josie! No. Do not, I repeat, do not go through my nightstand.” Fortunately, I did remember to pack that. Living in a van for a few weeks requires a bit of minimalism, but I always remember the essentials and I’m not planning on finding a man on this trip. I’m used to having to take care of myself.
She pouts. “You’re no fun.”
I snort a laugh. “Anyway, I was going to ask you to grab my extra ski bibs. It’s been wetter than normal, and I want my other pair as a backup.”
“You got it. So where are we parking when I get there? Campground or?” she draws out the last word.
I know what she's getting at. Tanner will be back by next weekend, so maybe I could finally tell him about Wasatch Wishes, and we could park by his barn. I just don't want my family making a big deal about this. “I’m still working on that, but I’ll figure out a good spot. I don’t think a campground is in the budget though. ”
“You know, if you're still looking for a side gig in the mean—”
I cut her off, laughing. “For the last time, I’m not doing the cam girl thing.”
I hop off the treadmill and head over to the water fountain to refill my bottle. Being a faceless cam girl is how Josie finances her nomad lifestyle. More power to her, but that’s not for me.
“I know you’d love not having a boss,” she teases.
I let out another laugh. I’ll give her credit, she’s persistent. “Hey, I need to get going. Going to hit the shower and make myself some dinner too. Let me know if you have any issues getting into my place or finding my bibs. Thanks, Bun.”
“Of course. Can’t wait to see you soon!”
In the basically empty lot, the only sound is my van’s diesel heater.
Winter nights in Jackson are downright cold, even compared to Park City.
Fortunately it’s not windy, otherwise my post-workout sweats that double as pajamas wouldn’t cut it.
I don’t remember nights feeling this cold as a kid growing up here, but maybe I'm just becoming a bit more sensitive as I approach thirty.
If the kids at Wasatch Wishes taught me anything, it's that they're resilient. Playing in the cold all day, falling and getting right back up without getting hurt, it never seems to bother them.
The bone-chilling, crisp night air is just starting to get to me when I reach the back corner of the lot, where I parked.
My black van with tinted windows and no logos or accessories on the outside does a good job of not attracting unwanted attention.
I open the sliding door, once again thankful for my height when I make the step up into the lifted van easily.
While it might look like a simple cargo van on the outside, inside it’s my home on wheels.
Insulated for winter, a few storage cabinets, a small kitchenette, and my cozy queen sized bed all make it feel more like home than my apartment sometimes.
I even have a composting toilet, but I prefer to only use that for emergencies if I can't find a public restroom. Either way, it’s the perfect size for my solo travel shenanigans.
To some, it might look like I’m living out of my car. To me though, there’s always been something so freeing about being able to grab a few things, hop in, and head off on an adventure.
After stowing my gym bag in one of the cabinets and putting in my privacy window covers, I snuggle into bed and scroll on my phone. Most of my feed is skiing clips or van life influencers, but after taking a few book recommendations from Lizzy, there’s now a smattering of romance book content.
I’ll give it to Lizzy. Romance novels renewed my love for reading. I love the characters, but I’m always envious of their connections. I've never felt loved, at least in a romantic sense, by another person before.
It’s not a surprise that my options in Utah for local, but non-LDS men, were less than ideal.
Even when I was in college, most of the guys were looking for someone to settle down right away and start a family.
They wanted the traditional wife, which let’s be real was not, and is not, ever going to be me.
The more interesting guys I met in Park City always ended up being emotionally immature ski bros that were only worried about which après bar had the cheapest drinks that night. While that’s a handy trait on a night out with friends, it’s not what I want in a life partner.
Then there were the transplants, the obnoxious rich boys that moved to the fancy ski town and were constantly on their phone checking their investment portfolios.
And don't even get me started on how many guys, I won’t even dignify them by calling them men, were put off by me being as tall as them.
That’s on top of them having no clue what to do in bed.
I hate to even think about the number of times I'd get home from a date, only to have another date with myself.
I crave physical stimulation and I’m not shy about taking care of my own needs. Chalk that up as another unintended consequence of spending months recovering from nerve damage, savoring every little regained sensation. I want to feel that physical connection to the world around me however I can.
Still, I have never found an unapologetically authentic person. Someone confident, but kind. Someone bold enough to take chances and not settle for taking the easy paths. I dream of someone that’s decisive, ready to go off on an adventure with me at the drop of a hat.
I just don’t think those men exist in real life. Maybe in Lizzy’s books, but I haven’t found one in the real world. It would be great to have a teammate though, someone I could share my adventures with.
That wonderful idea is interrupted by a sound I’m all too familiar with in the winter.
I hear the telltale whoosh of my van’s diesel heater and the burner kicking on.
That’s a normal sound. The whining of the fan that circulates the hot air around, that isn’t so normal.
It’s been getting louder and louder each night I’ve stayed in the van, and I know I'm going to need to deal with it sooner or later.
I throw my head back into my pillow and groan.
As much as I might not want to think about the next phase of my career, I’m going to need to do something if I don’t want to blow through my savings.
I don’t necessarily need my next long-term job, but even something part time to help cover some day-to-day expenses or van repairs.
I could probably talk to Kelsey at Cowgirl Coffee or Sutton at Gloria’s about picking up shifts.
I worked in the service industry during college and those places are always looking for help during ski season.
But working at either of those places does increase the chances of running into my grandparents or someone else that would spill the beans.
This is one problem with being from a small town.
I love Jackson. It’s my home. It’s my favorite place in the world. But here, everyone knows me as Grace Chapman, little sister of local big mountain skiing legend, Tanner Chapman.
Back in Park City, I’m the little sister of Clay Chapman, former skiing prodigy whose Olympic career was cut short by injuries.
Or worse, I hear the hushed whispers in both places, I’m the girl that survived the tragic car accident that claimed my mom’s life.
I don’t want to be known as any of those things, and now I’m the girl that lost my job.
While it hurt, I don’t need rescuing. I don’t know why, but that makes me think of TJ’s offer at my brother’s wedding reception. At the time it felt like he was trying to rescue me, but I also remember on our trip to Bend, he was so genuine when he asked me about Wasatch Wishes.
He never stopped asking about me or what I did for fun, what I did for work, why I took up cold plunges on a whim. For being an aloof rockstar, he was awfully chatty to me.
Maybe I could text him. I still have his phone number from the group chat when we stayed at his place.
I don't know what the hell he meant by work for him, but I haven’t been able to forget the look in his eyes when he asked. We never talked much about his professional life.
Even though V might be a huge Teal Tigers fangirl, all we know is that he quietly left the music industry about a decade ago, and he does some kind of real estate investing now. So why on earth would he have wanted me to work for him?