Page 11 of It’s Me, but Different

“It's no trouble, really,” River insists. “It'll be fun. Besides, Anika took Harper and Julie to San Francisco to show them some tech investments, and I could use the kids' company.”

Before I know it, I find myself alone, looking out the window and not really knowing what to do with the hours I just gained.

“Would you like to ski for a while?”

Sloane's voice startles me. Suddenly, she's standing next to my table, with a smile on her lips.

I think they've set a trap for me.

“It's been many years since I put on skis,” I confess.

“It's like riding a bike,” she jokes. “You never forget. We can start with a very easy slope so you can gain confidence,” she suggests.

Maybe I should refuse. Perhaps invent some excuse. But there's something in her gaze, in the way the sun coming through the window illuminates her eyes, that makes me forget common sense.

“Okay, but don't laugh if I fall,” I agree.

A few minutes later we're on the chairlift going up to the top of the mountain. Our bodies almost pressed together in the reduced space. Every time it sways, her shoulder brushes mine, sending small electric shocks through my entire body.

“So… environmental lawyer,” Sloane comments, finally breaking the silence. “I always knew you'd do something important with your life.”

“It's not as glamorous as it seems,” I smile. “I spend more time buried in legal documents than saving the planet.”

“Still, it's admirable,” she insists. “How did you end up in that?”

I breathe deeply, trying to organize a story that doesn't include the part about the year I spent crying when she left me.

“After finishing college, I worked for a while at an NGO,” I explain with a melancholic smile. “That's where I met Luis. He encouraged me to study law.”

I notice how Sloane tenses slightly when I mention my late husband, but she continues listening attentively.

“He was… incredible. So passionate about his work.”

The words get stuck in my throat. It feels too strange to talk about Luis with Sloane. It's as if two parallel universes of my life are crossing when they should never do so.

“I'm sure he was an extraordinary man,” she whispers, squeezing my knee with her hand.

“He was,” I nod with a long sigh.

Luckily, we reach the top before we can continue the conversation, because the tension in Sloane was starting to be more than evident.

At first, as we descend downhill, my movements are clumsy. It's been a while since I skied. Even so, little by little, my body remembers the sensations. It's as if every muscle, every tendon, preserved the memory of those college years when gliding through the snow next to Sloane was as natural as breathing.

She moves in front of me with that perfect technique that always fascinated me. With precise, elegant turns, almost as if it were poetry in motion. It's dangerouslyeasy to fall back into that perfect synchronization with her. Following her down the slope, as if a part of me had been waiting all these years to return to this dance. The wind whistles in my ears, adrenaline pumps through my veins, and for a moment, only this exists: the mountain, the snow, and Sloane. Like eleven years ago.

I accelerate, trying to leave behind not only Sloane but also the memories that sneak into my mind. The first day we skied together in college. The time she taught me to go down a black diamond slope, the sensation of her hands on my waist while explaining the turns. That night when we made love for the first time in her room.

But memories are faster than my skis. They catch up to me, wrap around me, awaken sensations I thought were forgotten. And the worst part is they don't feel like a betrayal to Luis's memory. They feel like a part of me that has been asleep, waiting to be rediscovered.

“Esme!” Sloane shouts with concern, stopping next to me. “Are you okay?”

I try to get up, more embarrassed than hurt.

“I'm fine, don't worry,” I assure her, brushing the snow off my suit. “I don't know what I was thinking.”

We do the rest of the route slowly and in silence, as if neither of us wanted to break the moment of connection.

“I've missed you so much,” she suddenly admits when we reach the base, lowering her voice until it becomes an almost inaudible whisper.