“What the heck? We’ve barely been out on the slopes,” David said. “How’s he going to learn if—”
They both scowled at him and spoke at the same time.
“I don’t want to learn this stupid game.”
“David. I can’t believe how insensitive you can be at times.” Delores grabbed Anton’s hand. “We’re headed back to the lodge. You can join us later if you like.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“Believe it.”
After they left, David went to the advanced slope and skied alone for two hours. Skiing had always centered him, calmed him down, but today he felt a slow burn as he played over what had just transpired, how easily Anton had called it quits, how effortlessly Delores had enabled him. He had always been proud of Anton, of his strength and equanimity, but today, for the first time, he was embarrassed. The boy was a quitter. No wonder he was failing at school.
When he returned to the ski lodge, he found the two of them in the lobby by a roaring fire, hunched over a Scrabble board. Normally, the sight would’ve filled him with a deep contentment, but now it simply irritated him. He had brought them here so Anton could learn to ski, not so they could sit by the fire like a couple of dowagers. His plan had been to give Anton a sense of accomplishment that could then expand into his schoolwork. Self-esteem was all the rage these days, and David agreed, of course, that in order to accomplish something, one had to have self-esteem. But unlike contemporary educational beliefs, his was an old-fashioned one—that self-esteem had to be earned, not bestowed.
They both looked up as he stood glowering before them, but if Delores noticed his bad mood, she didn’t comment on it. Instead she said, “Hi, honey. I’m teaching Anton to play Scrabble. You wanna join?”
He shook his head. “You guys go ahead.”
He sat watching them play a few turns, and his irritation grew. Anton was forming words like “cat” and “yes,” small, juvenile words that scored him minor points. The worst part, David fumed to himself, was that Anton didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by his low score. David intervened a few times, helping the boy form a larger word, but Delores made warning eyes at him, as if afraid he would embarrass the boy. The true embarrassment, he wanted to say to her, was the mediocrity of Anton’s ambition. But he kept his mouth shut and, after another fifteen minutes, mumbled that he was going upstairs to take a hot shower.
Predictably, he and Delores got into a fight that afternoon while Anton was taking a nap. “You’re too hard on him,” she cried.
“And you’re too soft,” he replied. “You think you’re protecting him, but you’re not.”
She gave him a scathing look. “You can be such a ripe old bastard at times,” she said, turning her back on him.
He was still stinging from that insult when he offered to take Anton into town to see The Mighty Ducks that evening. Delores begged off, pleading a headache, and he was glad. They exited the gates of the resort and made the left turn onto the rural two-lane road that led into the center of town, Anton chattering away about the movie, which many of his classmates had already seen. This is going to be the highlight of his weekend, David thought, this is what he’ll brag about when he returns to school on Monday. Without knowing it, he hit the brakes, bringing their car to a halt. Ahead of them, the sun was setting, inflaming the sky with color. Trees glowed scarlet and gold all around them. For a moment, they had the road entirely to themselves, and then another car appeared in the opposite lane, slowing down as it passed them. Still David sat, his foot on the brake. “Hey,” Anton said softly. “What’s wrong, David?”
What was wrong was he was taking the boy to the movies. With his shitty academic performance and his entire life at stake, David was taking the boy to the movies. As if nothing were the matter. As if something awful hadn’t happened on the slopes earlier today. As if failure were an option.
He put the car in drive and in one fluid motion made a U-turn, careful to avoid landing in the ditch on either side. Anton let out a yelp. “Hey. What you doing, David? Where’re we going? You said we was going to the movies.”
“We were,” he corrected absently. “We were going to the movies.” He glanced at the boy, who was looking at him in confusion. “But we’re not. I’m sorry. We’re headed back up to that ski slope.”
“I don’t wanna,” Anton screamed. “You promised. I don’t want to be in that old snow. It’s cold. And it’s dark. It’s too scary.”
“Yup.” David nodded. “You’re right, buddy. It is scary. Any time you learn something new, it’s scary. Getting hurt is scary. Falling is scary. Being up there in the cold and dark is scary. Yup. I get that.”
“Then why—?”
“You know what’s scariest of all? Failure. That’s the real scary thing. The real monster is failing. Being a quitter. Proving that boy right. You know? The one who called you a loser? That’s the true scary.” David took his eyes off the road and glanced at Anton. “And that’s something I cannot allow.”
“David, I can’t—”
“You can. You will. Even if it means we stay on those slopes all night long. But Anton, I promise you this: By the time you come down that hill tonight or tomorrow, I don’t care when, you will do it on your own two skis.”
DELORES HAD GONE to bed by the time they entered the room at eleven P.M. But the sound of their celebratory laughter woke her up. “How was the movie?” she asked sleepily, and then looked confused when Anton yelled triumphantly, “We didn’t go.”
“What?” She looked at David. “You took him to dinner or something?”
David grinned broadly. “Yup. If you consider popcorn and hot chocolate dinner.” He sat at the edge of her bed. “We went back. To the slopes.” He saw her mouth begin to form a protest and laid his hand on her cheek to stop her. “It’s okay. Anton learned to ski tonight.” He reached out with his other hand to pull the boy toward him. “Isn’t that right, buddy?”
Anton’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes shiny. “I did it. David taught me. And we’re gonna go again tomorrow morning, FM. You should come.” He flung his arms open theatrically. “I loooove skiing.”
“I don’t believe it,” Delores said wonderingly.
“Believe it.”
“And tomorrow I’m gonna kick that boy’s ass,” Anton shouted. He threw them a furtive look. “Oops.”