It’s a rule. I always come back for holidays. My dad’s alone. Has been since my mother died. He told me he was happy alone, and I don’t remember him ever being any other way. A long time ago, I asked him why he didn’t get remarried. And he said, he had one love of his life and it was more than his heart could take.I always thought I was more like him. Especially this last year, I thought I could get used to not being tethered to anyone ever again.He seems more worried this year. Like something is bothering him. There are stacks of paper on his desk and he’s usually so organized.“Is everything okay?” I ask him one night after dinner, as he frowns over more paperwork.He sighs. “Everything’s okay.” He smiles thinly. “I-I have to refinance the house.”The way he says it makes me start. I swallow. “Okay.”“It’s nothing to worry about.”I nod. I know how expensive skiing is. When I had sponsorships, they covered most of the costs of competing, but not much else, and first semester’s tuition at Boulder, even in-state, isn’t cheap, not to mention the six months of physical therapy, the psychiatrist, the painkillers, and the fact that I don’t have a real job, and never really have.I don’t have sponsors now.
