Bags
checked, tickets checked, carry-ons...carried on. It was almost
perfect. Gemma
was on the aisle, playing a rather amusing game of peek-a-boo with an
infant
that had become rather annoyed with all the movement and noise. Its
tiny face
did not screw up any more than it was as it watched Gemma perpetually
hide her
face behind her hands and then reveal herself. Making a funny face made
the
small child giggle and become a bit more satiated. When the plane took
off, it
was a content child; Gemma returned her attention to Michael, who was
staring
plainly out the window, a small smile on his face.
"Having
fun yet?" She asked, giving him a knowing grin.
He
stretched and nodded, yanking a book from his bag. "So far so good,"
Glancing
at her watch, Gemma snorted. "We're going back in time, you know. Five
hours ahead of time in Vermont, maybe just four, but when we get
there it'll only be an hour after we left."
"That's
creepy," he replied, raising his eyebrows.
She
nodded. "I wonder if we flew back long enough we could relive
yesterday."
Mike
laughed. "Relive yesterday in Australia, that's what we'd do."
"True,"
she responded, pulling her own book out of her knapsack. For some
reason they
had nothing to say to one another for at least two hours. They read
their
books, both content with every once and a while looking up to make sure
the
other wasn't bored out of their minds. When they would land, it would
nine o'
clock back in England, which meant that it'd be four o'
clock in the afternoon in Vermont. It was a crazy concept to accept,
having to turn in at six thirty, but she'd be wiped by then. Gemma
began to think about the living conditions her friends, Joe and Martha
Girardot, had sent her. They were in a special condominium type
arrangement, a
four bedroom, six room house with five other people. Two would be
staying in
the same room, one by himself, and Gemma and Mike in their own rooms.
It had
two bathrooms, a kitchen, a recreational area, and a basement that had
two
contraptions that Joe had called snowmobiles. He had offered Gemma
lessons on
the ancient thing, claiming it to be safe and low powered, but she had
been
wary of the loud sled-like vehicle.
The
best part about their house was the simple fact that it was a five
minute walk
to the ski hill, the resort restaurant, and the lodge. Supposedly the
early
frost had brought on loads of snow, which meant good packed powder;
perfect for
skiing. Gemma was restless thinking about it. In her years skiing in
Montpelier prior to this trip, with her
family and Jonas, she had learned a lot of helpful things. She was
near-expert
material, though she was almost adamant about never racing. A little
playful
race was fine, but as soon as someone handed her a number and a pat on
the
back, she was out of the running. Fear of failure and humiliation held
her
back, though she was perfectly at ease with jumping up in front of a
group of
strangers and telling them all off. She was eager to teach Mike all she
knew,
every little trick she had to offer. It was a fun sport when grasped
even just
slightly. Traversing kept you from a suicidal run into a tree, and
something
all Americans called a "hockey-stop" could have you stop in an
instant. She was already mapping out just how to start him off.
Mike
sighed and began to drift out of his novel and into the next week. He
was
almost sure he'd have to refuse her in teaching him how to slide down
on a hill
on two pieces of waxed metal. I mean, he thought nervously, how can
plastic and
iron be a safe mode of transportation? He'd seen people skiing before,
it looked
like it could be fun, but how was he supposed to learn over just a
week?
Everyone on a mountain top learned how to ski at age four and didn't
try a
mountain anywhere until they had at least five years under their belt,
right?
As
if putting away her thoughts as well as her book, Gemma snapped the
hardcover
shut and closed her eyes for the rest of the hour, only existing in a
half-awake state. After the forty-five minutes of silence between them
passed,
there was a timid tap on her arm.
"Hm?"
She asked sleepily.
"I
didn't wake you, did I?" Mike's voice matched his timid attention
grabber.
She
opened her eyes to see him, tilted toward her, eyes knit up in mild
concern.
"Nope, I was just thinking." It was almost true; she hadn't been
asleep, but she most definitely had not thought over a single thing
while her
eyes were shut.
He
smiled feebly. "Oh, good. I was just going to ask you about this." He
held out his book, where there was a small section, in italics that
stated,
"Summer and Stanley Thompson, proud parents of nine children have put
their input in on-"
Gemma
fumed. "They disowned me," she replied finally, wondering if he had
really been unable to come to that assumption.
"The
family photo though," he flipped the page to reveal a terribly
conditioned
photo of nine kids, all about Gemma's age. She seized the book from him
and
looked at her sibling's faces, seeing what a young woman her little
sister
Sarah had grown into, how her older brother Doug had never stopped
growing, and
how her brother Scott was taking after her father with his cool gazes
and firm
stances...
"And
here," he pointed to the next interview section.
"Stanley
corrected us only on one fact. 'We have ten children,' he says quietly.
'One
went to Oxford, we kicked her out temporarily, but she never came back.
Haven't
heard from her in years; we're all worried sick about her...'"
Gemma
was at a loss for words. "Temporarily?" She managed to choke out.
"This
is when you suddenly show up for Christmas like nothing's happened, and
make
sure they're the first ones to apologize." Mike said, smiling as
Gemma's
face lit up.
"Look
at Sarah..." She ran her finger over the image of the then-nineteen
year
old girl.
He
nodded. "She's a pretty little thing, isn't she? Must have all the guys
after her."
Gemma
laughed. "Always did,"
Gemma
jerked her head up and looked around pitifully, realizing it had only
been a
dream. She hit her fist to her leg, relishing in the pain it brought,
distracting her mind from the sorrow that had welled up inside her.
Mike gave
her a worried stare as she stood up and started off to the plane's
bathroom,
wishing she would make it there before she lost it and began to sob. As
she
snapped the door shut, tears rolled heavily down her face. She began to
realize
quite steadily she hadn't seen her family, just versions of the kids
she
remembered, maybe some concocted blur she had mentally passed off as
her
sister... Oh, Sarah, she thought miserably, what have you been up to?
She
buried her face in a paper towel and tried not to cry any louder than
she was.
It was hard to do, but she managed to pull herself out of her depressed
slump
and look on the bright side of life. She wasn't miserable without them,
she
heard snippets of news from Noah, and sometimes friends like Joe and
Martha
called or sent letters.
Having
finally pulled herself into an almost respectable looking state, Gemma
jerked
the door open and meekly walked back to her seat next to Mike, who was
staring
at her, concerned.
"You
alright?" He asked, taking her hand.
She
squeezed his hand and forced a smile. "I'm fine, just got a little
nervous." She lied.
There
was only one thing that made Mike doubt her excuse, and that was the
little red
splotches on her face, especially around her eyes. He'd seen it before;
when
women get upset they get little upset spots on their faces, sometimes
they
stayed for hours, but Gemma's were almost screaming for attention.
Either she'd
had an allergic reaction and burst into hives, or she'd started crying
and
broken out from lack of oxygen. The female sobbing mechanisms can
prevent one
from breathing for minutes on end.
"Not
to sound offensive, but you don't look fine," he said earnestly.
Gemma
smiled and brought her hands to her face, rubbing it vigorously, as if
doing so
would eliminate all traces of her tears. "Just a dream," he heard
through her fingers, muffled.
He
was instantly curious. "You had a dream?"
She
looked up and nodded slightly before looking down again.
"What
happened?"
"My
family said they were worried sick about me and regretted sending me
away. I
saw pictures of them as they would be now, but now that I'm awake I
can't
remember what they looked like..." She looked confused.
Mike
nodded, lips thinning to a straight line. "Sometimes your subconscious
tells you things you'd rather not hear, and sometimes it tells you just
what
you want to hear."
"So,
if I was five years old again my subconscious would be telling me that
ice
cream is reeeeallly yummy..." She brushed off her dream.
Mike
laughed. "Something like that."
An
hour later, the plane made a jerky landing in Montpelier, only slightly
delayed
by weather. They had been forced to make an extra circle around the
airport
terminal before landing, to give personnel time to salt the runway.
When they
did land, Gemma discovered about a third of the entire airplane was
going to be
at the same resort they would be staying at, so she tried to get
herself and
Mike off first, to avoid the rushes for the shuttle bussing and baggage
cart.
Mike lead the way forward, following signs like he knew what he was
doing.
Gemma jerked him to a stop, giggling at her friend, Joseph Girardot,
who had
looked her over at least twice without recognizing her.
"Either
that's our ride or he's looking for someone else." She started walking
towards him.
Mike
stopped her. "He know I'm here too?"
She
shifted her bags onto her shoulder further and rolled her eyes. "Of
course
he does, now come on!"
Reluctantly
Mike picked up his bags again and dutifully followed Gemma over to the
short
man. He looked Gemma over, annoyance on his face before it melted away
into a
wide grin that covered his entire bushy face. He opened his arms and
stepped
forward, no words between them as Gemma allowed him to embrace her.
In
an American accent, slightly hard to understand for some reason, he
said,
"Gemma! I didn't even recognize you!" His hands danced around his
palms like he was trying to get something off of them.
She
mimed the actions, smiling. "I know, I thought maybe you saw me, but
you
just kept looking until we walked up here."
Joe
turned towards Mike, who was staring with a frown. "Is this your
boyfriend?"
"Yes,
this is Michael," she was speaking slowly, Joe's eyes glued to her lips
as
she spoke. It finally dawned on Mike what had been strange about Joe's
accent.
He was partially deaf and had a speech impediment, preventing him from
speaking
clearly. He used sign language along with normal English to make sure
his point
got across; Gemma knew it as well and made sure he could understand her
at all
times.
He
extended a hand to Joe, smiling broadly. "Hi,"
"Good
evening! I'm your ride, if you want to follow me." He pointed over his
shoulder, miming them to follow him. Gemma hefted her bags and smiled
at Mike.
He too hefted his bags to his shoulders and followed the shorter man to
a large
van parked just outside a small fire door. They slipped out, an alarm
ringing
for about fifteen seconds after, quickly to be shut off as they closed
the door
again. Joe smiled sheepishly as they sneakily slipped their belongings
into the
back of the crowded van and climbed into the equally tight fitting
bench seat.
"Sorry
if it's a bit cramped," his voice was always muffled, like his tongue
was
in the way of his mouth, "but I had to shuttle a huge group to the
cross
country hill only half an hour ago."
Gemma
waved it off, still grinning. "No problem, if it's too much of a hassle
I'll sit on someone's lap." She elbowed Mike, who grinned sheepishly at
Joe. The van started; they peeled out of the car park and headed down
several
back water roads, going by deer, elk, and a few other woodland scenes.
Twice
they had to stop in order to let a doe pass by, and once because of a
flooding
river bank. It had iced over the entire road, so Joe had stopped and
put chains
on his wheels before continuing. The rest of the twenty minute ride was
uneventful, except Mike's first real look at the mountain he'd be on
some time
during the week. It loomed high and mighty before him, unnoticed until
the
corkscrew incline they'd been climbing arched higher and he saw a twin
peak
shadowing the one they were on. They climbed to the top of the small
incline to
reveal six chair lifts, a huge resort with several heated outdoor
pools, and
some easier looking slopes. They drove past this only to be dropped off
in the
shadow of the second peak. It was called Mt. Xavier, a name that
commanded
power and grace to be laid at its feet.
"Joey,
you want to help us unpack? Show us the-he can't hear me..." Gemma
smiled
weakly at Mike, who was watching as Joe stared proudly at the moving
chair
lifts, back to the couple. He couldn't hear Gemma talking over the
blowing
wind, and even if he could, he wouldn't have been able to really
understand her
unless he could look at her lips or watch her hands.
She
stepped up in front of him. "Can you show us where we're going to
be?"
"Yeah,
follow me." He hefted Gemma's bag to his shoulder and lead the way to a
larger, secluded building. It was apart from the rest, the exterior
with inlaid
stone, a friendly chimney rising up into the sky to pour smoke toward
Mt.
Xavier. Joe handed Mike a key, then opened the house with his own
before
handing that one to Gemma. She gasped as she was lead in, looking
anxiously to
Mike, who had also lost his breath upon seeing the interior. There was
a
crystalline chandelier hanging above their heads next to a long
staircase. It
looked grand and elegant, a small kitchen just under the staircase and
in a
large, well-lit room. The room was shown to be a living space,
television, pool
table, and a small balcony hanging out over a cavernous ravine. The
kitchen was
small, cozy. Wooden cabinets, an old avocado colored refrigerator and
matching
stove, a few other small appliances were here and there. A woman walked
into
the room, flopping back onto the couch with a flippant hello to Joe.
He
nodded toward the blonde that had sprawled out on the leather couch.
"That's Caroline, she's one of your house-mates."
Gemma
nodded. "She looks nice. So, where are our rooms?"
Caroline
snorted from the couch, not offering any reason, just incredulous on
Gemma's
comment.
"Once
again, m'lady, follow me." Joe smiled warmly and walked towards the old
staircase, carpeted and yet still mostly wood. The dark blue carpet
trailing up
the light oak wood looked wonderful, but it was nothing compared to the
sky-lit
upstairs. The entire roof seemed to be nothing but glass, letting in
bright
rays of sunshine from its steeply sloped top. It was so steep that
almost no
snow really collected on its surface, though there were splotches of
darkness
in every corner of the enormous hallway. The stairway actually surfaced
in the
middle of the large hallway, so there was a banister trailing around
the entire
hole where it lay, but there were four rooms on either side with still
enough
space to fit between them. Two bathrooms were situated across the hall
from
each other, one as soon as you came up the steps, and one by the back,
in the
darker shadow of the mountain.
One
room had a man's foot trailing out of it, the man inside obviously busy
doing
his own business. Gemma lifted her guitar off her shoulder and held it
from the
handle on the side, peering in to see what the stranger was doing. His
head was
under the bed, wrench by his side.
Joe
made a face and poked the man's foot. "You didn't break the bed again,
did
you?" He emphasized "again," making both Gemma and Mike cringe
in harsh realization.
The
man bumped his head coming out from the dark abyss, but required
quickly, his
black hair short and neat. "Yeah, sorry Joe. I'm fixing it, picked up
some
nuts and bolts with my own money and everything."
Joe
rolled his eyes. "I'm going to have to whine about this to Martha, you
know, Rich."
"Go
ahead, our doors are always locked." He grinned wickedly. Joe made
another
face before pulling his head from the room and showing them the rest of
the
rooms.
The
first one, the one Rich had occupied, was all full of dark blues,
matching the
carpet on the stairs. The curtains were dark as well, blocking sunlight
or just
plain light during the day or night. The carpet was all shag carpeting
in all
four rooms, all decor varying shades in every room. The second room was
all
different shades of yellow, mostly pastels though the curtains were
dark
orange, almost like a sunset.
"We
have names for all the rooms, you see, this is the Sunrise Room, Rich
and
Caroline are in the Ocean Room. Martha made these up on a whim, but
this was
her favorite." He pushed open the third door, revealing an all dark
green
themed room. The carpet was a medium forest green, the bed covered in
an even
darker green, the curtains an even darker green. The wall was adorned
with tiny
leaf prints, all browns and oranges; it was an autumn scene of beauty.
Mike
could clearly see Gemma was smitten with the room, it being all the
tones she
liked to wear, right down to the purple sneakers on her feet. With a
grin, Mike
took the guitar from Gemma's grasp and tossed it lightly to the bed,
watching
as she began to smile as well, realizing he had just given her the
room.
She
turned to him, smiling. "You better hope the next room isn't pink or
purple, huh?" She teased, linking her hand in his. He looked up for a
moment before flashing his gaze back to her, almost like agreeing with
her with
a half-roll of his eyes.
Joe
smiled uncertainly and pushed open the fourth room's door and waited
for
approval. It was almost the epitome of every young boy's room when they
were
young. Pale blue carpet, navy bed spread, and turquoise and white
checkered
curtains. Mike's face split into a sheepish grin as he dropped his
things on
the floor, leaving the last stranger a very bright yellow room. On the
wide,
empty wall, another mural had been painted, this time with realistic
watercolor
clouds, darker on the bottom, but white as cotton on the top, outlined
only by
light charcoal paint to accent the definition.
"Gemma,
you're obviously in the Woodland Room, but Mike's got the lucky one.
This is my
favorite, the Sky Room." Joe smiled as Mike, pleased, walked over to
the
navy curtains and threw them open for a view. It was almost a planned
view.
Nothing but white powder below him, filling the cavernous ravine. All
that drew
your attention from the acres of white white white was the blue blue
blue of
the sky, complete with cotton-y clouds. Mt. Xavier was behind his room,
unable
to interfere with the blue majesty of the never-ending sky.
Curious,
Gemma walked back to her room and threw open her curtains to see a
grove of
pine trees stretching out below her, just before the edge of the
mountain
picked up and shadowed the growth. Rich and Caroline had the view of
the pools,
and the lodge. They had the view of civilization, but they were hardly
interested in the view. They had picked the room solely because there
was a
bathroom between them and the only other room on their side of the
house. The
Sunrise Room and a bathroom between Gemma, a bathroom separating them
from
Michael. The poor soul that was going to be staying in the Sunrise Room
would
be advised to bring ear-plugs.
Mike
stood behind Gemma as she stared at the grove of trees, thinking about
what she
could do to keep busy all day today, with two hours before she would
get sleepy
and have to turn in. He wrapped his arms around her and grinned as she
sleepily
fell back into his support. Suppressing the urge to start singing the
first
song that leapt into her mind-"Stand By Me"-Gemma sighed and tried to
keep her thoughts moving along.
"Perfect?"
Joe asked, walking in and ignoring the compromising position the two
were in.
Gemma
reluctantly pulled from Mike's weak grip and turned to face the
grinning man.
"Everything is perfect; you really know how to treat me, Joe. Free?
What a
joke!"
He
laughed. "Just a week, we had no reservations, I thought it'd be great
to
see you again! Martha's going to go crazy when she hears I didn't stop
to get
her before showing the rooms. See, she painted all the artwork on the
walls-"
"Oh!
How excellent! You must get her here, I haven't spoken to her in ages,
Joey!" Gemma spouted, her hands leaping together in excitement.
Joe
smiled and looked away, as if he could hear something distantly. "Did
you
hear anything?" He asked, placing his hand on the wall. Gemma strained
but
shook her head. Joe nodded furiously and turned, walking down the steps
with
Mike and Gemma on his heels. As they filed into the entryway, they saw
a
dark-haired man standing in the landing, his things collected at his
feet. He
glanced up, square-framed glasses on his face.
"Oh,
hi-" He started, standing up sheepishly. A thinner, brown-haired woman
leapt in and threw her arms open.
Gemma
gasped. "Martha!" She leapt over the new guy's bags and hugged the
woman tightly, her hair flopping over her shoulder to nearly smother
the five
foot one girl.
"Oh
wow, look at that hair, man!" She said, her voice curiously American.
It
was so thick in fact, that Mike almost thought he'd heard her wrong at
first.
The
new guy, with the Indian look to his features, picked up his bags and
started
up the steps, where Joe was showing him his room. Gemma, Mike, and
Martha made
their way into the living area where Caroline was sitting, watching the
television while reading a magazine. They sat down at the kitchen
counter and
continued talking, though in hushed tones so as not to disturb their
house-mate.
"You
never visit anymore!" Martha whined, taking Gemma's hand. She was at
least
five years older than Gemma, causing Mike to think that they were more
friends
through Jonas to begin with, and she had grown on them.
Gemma
sighed heavily. "After I broke my leg I sort of slowed down a bit."
Martha
laughed nervously. "I told you not to go down that hill!"
"Since
when do teenagers listen to anyone?" Gemma laughed back.
As
the two continued to talk, Mike curiously watched the nameless
house-mate
reenter the entryway, Joe leading him into the kitchen, talking softly,
hands
dancing as usual. The man kept nodding at Joe and smiling a wide,
white-toothed
smile. Joe stopped in front of Gemma and Martha, waiting for a pause in
the
conversation.
"This
is Amir," he finally butted in, holding his hand out to indicate the
Indian looking man.
"Hello,"
he raised his hand, smiling in an all-American way.
Mike
extended his hand in a friendly way. "Hi Amir, I'm Mike-"
"And
I'm Gemma!" Gemma shook his hand when Mike was done, smiling on the
man.
He
lifted a pair of amused eyebrows at the two before asking, "Are you two
dating? Because if you aren't, you will be soon." He snickered.
Mike
coughed uncomfortably, faking the sudden need for a glass of water
while Gemma
laughed and told Amir that yes, they were dating. When Mike returned,
Martha
and Joe had left, and Caroline had joined Amir and Gemma's
conversation. They
talked for a long time, just the four of them, on everything and
anyone. The
three Americans educated Gemma and Mike on their recent scandals both
politically and in Hollywood; it was amazing for the two to hear about
everything American for a change, and it was almost a breath of fresh
air just
to be submersed in another culture.
Having
hardly spoken, and Gemma having sort of adopted an American accent,
Mike
realized that the three Americans were having a hard time figuring out
which
country or region they were from. It was Amir who finally asked where
they were
from.
"So
I'm going to take a guess and say Ireland, am I right?" Caroline asked,
tilting her head at Gemma.
Both
she and Mike burst into laughter.
"Actually,
we're from England," Gemma blurted.
Amir
lifted his eyebrows again. "Oh really? I took three years there in
college."
"Oxford
or Cambridge?" Mike asked sharply.
"Cambridge,"
he replied evenly, smiling as Mike's face turned down in a scowl.
Gemma
snapped her fingers. "Were you in the journalism school?"
He
nodded. "Yeah, for a while."
"Do
you remember a Jonas Whittaker?"
The
way Amir's face lit up was amazing. "Oh yeah! He was a riot! You know
him?"
She
nodded slowly, lifting a glass of water to her lips. "I did,"
"Well,
what's he doing these days?"
Mike
grimaced as Gemma put the glass down with a thud. "He's actually not
alive
anymore," she said calmly.
Amir
sensed he'd touched on a nerve; he began to pull on his t-shirt
nervously.
"Are you...Jennifer? Gen-?"
"Gemma,"
"Oh
yeah...Jonas used to talk about you." Amir replied, casting his eyes
down
into a coffee cup.
Gemma
shrugged. "Not to dampen the mood, I was just wondering if you'd
remember
him."
"Well,
I do."
"Good,
glad to hear it." She smiled in a friendly way before standing up a
filling up her glass again.
It
was seven thirty, and Gemma was beat. She felt very tired, though her
stomach
was objecting most profusely. She had almost considered checking the
refrigerator for some sort of quick meal when a timer went off and
Caroline
walked over to the oven and pulled out a huge casserole type thing. She
placed
it on the middle of the counter and handed out plates, smiling
sheepishly. With
a, "Dig in," everyone ate. It wasn't until eight thirty Gemma
actually turned in, her face beginning to betray her wishes and go lax
on her,
eyes snapping shut when she walked from room to room, challenging Amir
and Mike
simultaneously to games of pool in the basement, avoiding Caroline and
Rich who
were having a grand old time snogging on the couch. Just as she was
completely
ready for bed, there was a knock on her door. With a slight groan,
Gemma
finished putting her hair into the ponytail she always wore to bed and
yanked
the door open. Mike stood poised in the doorway, a small tired grin on
his
face.
"Here
we are," he muttered, looking in her cozy room.
She
smiled. "The end of the world as we know it, huh?"
He
grinned back, dropping to his knees as she sat on the vanity stool,
arms lazily
hanging at her sides. He took her hands in his and looked over her
long, thin
fingers. It was almost instinct, what drove Gemma to lean down and kiss
the top
of Mike's head. Just something told her that if she didn't do something
automatically, she'd be stopping something natural. He looked up and
smiled,
leaning up to catch her lips with his own. Her door open, they both
seemed to
realize the danger of what could happen, but neither really cared at
that
point. Gemma was very tired, Mike was getting ready to turn in, and
both were
simply sharing a goodnight kiss. No big deal, except for Caroline. She
and Amir
were discussing something as they walked up the steps, unsure of how to
act
when their new house-mates were sleeping. As they crossed the hallway,
Caroline
explaining how she had a special ski wax in her room, she stopped dead
and
elbowed her new friend in the ribs. Amir stopped and rubbed his side
with a
small scowl, looking up to see the two he'd so blatantly teased earlier
sharing
a romantic moment in one of the bedrooms. His face split into a wide
grin as
Caroline whistled loudly.
Defiant
in some respect, Gemma and Mike parted, both trying not to give
Caroline the
delight of seeing their red cheeks. They said their goodnights and
slept.
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