Chapter 28
ISN’T IT IRONIC?
RYDER
“Do you remember the first time you ever got on a snowboard?”
The thumping bass of too-loud EDM music echoes through the night, a stark contrast to the nearly silent mountain range surrounding the Athlete’s Village.
We’re halfway through week two of the Games, and the parties have been starting earlier and going on later with each passing night.
A majority of athletes are already finished with their events and are only waiting around here in Milan for the Closing Ceremonies out of obligation.
But even if the men and women’s half-pipe competitions weren’t tomorrow, I’d have no desire to be anywhere but where I am right now, enjoying the fresh mountain air and the crunchy almond cookies we swiped from the dining hall with my wife.
In fact, there hasn’t been a night in Milan where I haven’t been wrapped up in Mabel, forgoing any other socialization, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The sky is dark, the moon only a sliver of itself amongst a smattering of sparkling stars.
The temperature dropped significantly when the sun went down hours ago, but the blazing firepit, the giant fleece blanket wrapped around my shoulders and Mabel’s delectable ass in my lap are enough to keep me warm.
“I mean, I have a vague recollection because of the photos in my dad’s office. But no, I don’t have a clear memory of something I did when I was two years old. Do you remember your first time snowboarding, Rye Bread?”
I pinch Mabel’s side, making her squeal and wiggle in my lap.
“Of course not. I was born with a snowboard strapped to my feet. But I remember yours, Marshmallow.” She tilts her head up to look at me, and I run the pads of my fingers over her cold cheeks and twist a lock of red hair around my pointer.
“You were two, like you said, and your mom had you on a pair of skis already. I was four; it was my second season on the snowboard Santa brought me the year before. They took us to the bunny hills up on Blue Mountain, and you would not stop crying. You just kept saying, “I wanna be like Rye, I wanna be like Rye.” It was so annoying, but finally Marcus went into the resort and rented you a tiny board. You shrieked so loud, I’m surprised you didn’t start an avalanche.
But when we got to the top of the little hill, you refused to start moving unless you were holding my hands, which was difficult considering we both had our left feet forward.
Marcus switched your bindings, you held on to me with both hands, and with a push from my dad, we took your first ride together. ”
“So you’re saying the reason I ride goofy now is that back then I threw a hissy fit until I got my way?”
“Exactly. And it was all for nothing because less than ten seconds into the run, you let go of my hands and sped down the hill all by yourself. I was amazed. It took me weeks of riding between Mom’s legs while she skied before I rode by myself. You were fearless, even when you pretended not to be.”
Mabel nuzzles her cheek against my palm, sighing.
“That’s a nice way of saying I’ve always been a pain in the ass.”
“Yeah,” I snort. “You have been. But the point is that you’re brave, Mabel. You always have been. It’s what I’ve always admired most about you. Even when we were kids, I’ve always thought the world of you. You’re the person I want to be when I grow up.”
Those three words I’ve been dying to say to her sit like lead on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them back.
Mabel is having the week of her career. She already has two gold medals under her belt in the big air and slopestyle, beating the two silver medals I won in those same events.
We’re currently tied for the number of overall gold we each have, and I’m planning to add another gold to my resume tomorrow, so Mabel needs to bring it if we’re going to stay tied leaving Milan.
The last thing I want to do is throw her off her game with a giant declaration, even if all I want to do is scream “I LOVE YOU” at the top of my lungs.
“Isn’t it ironic,” Mabel mutters, fiddling with the string on my hoodie.
“Isn’t what ironic, Alanis?”
“You say you want to be me when you grow up, yet I’ve recently discovered just how immature I really am. It took marrying you while I was black out drunk for me to realize you aren’t the frenemy I’ve made you out to be all these years. That’s not exactly grown up of me, is it Rye Bread?”
I just shrug.
“I’m not the most mature guy either, Marshmallow. I spent all my time picking on you because it was the only time you paid me any attention. But we're still in our twenties. I think we’re supposed to still be growing and learning our lessons, right?”
“Maybe.” Mabel rests her head on my chest, and I pull the blanket tighter around us. “If that’s the case, I’m glad we get to do our growing up together.” I press my face to the top of her head, kissing her and inhaling the apple scent of her soft hair.
“Just like we always have, baby girl.”
I’d like to find the assholes who schedule the events for the Games and give them a swift kick in the ass.
All I want to do right now is run to the area where the women’s halfpipe event is being held and cheer on my wife as she undoubtedly wins her eighth Winter Games gold medal.
But no, I’m stuck here at the men’s halfpipe because some idiots with a spreadsheet didn’t consider that overlapping events might fuck with my personal plans.
Thankfully, I’m up for my third run, but since I pulled a 94.
25 on my first run followed by a humiliating 55 after a wreck on my second, I actually have to focus if I want to beat the top score and bring home a gold medal of my own this year.
Bringing the gold ‘M’ around my neck to my lips, I kiss the charm and tuck it back into my jacket. Then I put the rest of the world out of my head for the next twenty seconds and go to that place in my mind where it’s just me, my board, and the snow under my feet.
I carve through the snow, gliding down the pipe, all the while feeling like I’m watching myself from above like an out-of-body experience.
Two frontside double cork 1440s back-to-back, a frontside 540 followed by my signature move, a double cork and a 1260 rotation, something no other pro has been able to replicate since I debuted it in Pyeongchang.
I top it all off with another double cork 1260, this time holding the front side of my board, and it’s perfect.
I’ve never managed the 1260 back-to-back in competition before, but today is my day.
By the time I hit the ground, I know I’ve done it.
Gliding to the end, I yank my goggles off my face and punch the air, pride screaming in my chest. The crowd is going wild, American flags being hoisted over heads as they chant my name.
My teammates are hugging, already celebrating what we know will be another gold for Team USA
The press is already swarming by the time the judges scores are up, confirming that I’ve clinched the gold medal with a score of 98.
75, and I’m ripping the straps off my feet, scrambling to get the fuck out of here and over to the women’s halfpipe before it’s too late.
Microphones are shoved in my face, and I try my best to keep my cool as I push past the wall of bodies.
“Ryder! You just broke the world record for the highest height achieved on a halfpipe jump. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Ryder, how does it feel to win gold in three consecutive Winter Games?”
“Ryder, tell us what was going through your mind when you attempted that second 1260?”
The questions fly at me from all directions, and I find myself wishing Trina was here to help field some of it. Instead, I hold up my hands in what I hope is a polite refusal.
“I would absolutely love to talk to all of you, and I will, but right now I need to get over to the women’s halfpipe to see my wife compete. Thank you.”
I try to push past, but a reporter I recognize from Inside The Games, Sarah something or other—a low-level writer who has been particularly vicious towards Mabel over the years—grabs my shoulder. I sneer down at her hand on my jacket, tempted to flick her off like an annoying little bug.
“About that wife, Ryder. I was wondering if you wanted to take this opportunity to explain today’s news.”
I open my mouth to ask what news this pest could be talking about when she shoves a tablet in my face. And on the screen…
“Oh no,” I whisper. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”
I drop the tablet and break out in a sprint, praying to any god that will listen that I get to Mabel before it’s too late.