Mike looked regretful but told me "I wish I could take you up on the offer, but I just don't have the vacation hours."
I'd already heard variations from most of the others. Valentine's week isn't the usual time for a winter vacation, but I'd have thought that an offer of a free stay at my family's Tahoe cabin would have had some takers.
Our lunchtime group was the nucleus of our company's unofficial outdoor club. Not that I knew everyone well, but I wouldn't have known most of them as more than a face in the hallway if we hadn't started getting together regularly at lunch to plan weekend activities. We didn't organize something every weekend, sometimes not even every month, but over the last couple of years we'd done quite a few hikes, volunteered for beach cleanups, gone white water rafting, and tried a Napa balloon excursion. We'd never done any winter sports, though, and I'd hoped for some company.
"Will you still go without us? It seems like it'd be a lot less fun by yourself. Lonely."
I shrugged. "You're right. I'd originally planned to go with Patricia, but that's out."
Mike winced. Our breakup a few months earlier had been mostly amicable, but still rough. I'd avoided talking about it, but people noticed that I hadn't dipped my toe into the dating pool since.
I gave a rueful grin "Yeah, I know. But I'd already asked for the time off, so I'm going anyhow. I'm 'use it or lose' it on my vacation hours, and I really enjoy the area, summer or winter. Yeah, it'll be a bit lonely by myself, but I'll still have a good time. I won't bother renting downhill skis or a snowboard if it's just me, but I've got snowshoes and cross country skis at the cabin. So hike, snowshoe, cross-country ski, maybe just sit by the fire listening to music and reading. Or run down to South Tahoe or Reno for a show."
I looked around the table "I'd just hoped that some of you might like to try it, too. We've got room for a dozen people without too much crowding; there's a couple of private bedrooms and a big bunk loft for the overflow. We've got several sets of loaner cross country skis and snowshoes, too."
"How hard is it to learn to snowshoe?" The familiar voice came from the other end of the table; even without looking I could tell it was Amanda, my favorite hiking buddy. And she sounded interested.
She was. Seriously. She had almost as much unused vacation time as I did, had never tried winter sports, or even (seriously?) seen snow, and she wanted to change that. It shouldn't have surprised me; Amanda was always enthusiastic about trying new things, and -- despite her diminutive size -- one of the few people I had to push myself to keep up with on a hike.
Amanda would be good company, even if I would have preferred a few more people to serve as a buffer. Not that I didn't like her. The problem was I could easily like her too much. I wasn't even certain she was aware how much she appealed to me. Certainly, she was very different physically from most of the women I'd dated, a slender little China doll of a woman rather than a buxom Amazon like Patricia or Wendy had been. She didn't dress to draw attention to her figure either. But she was cute, fit enough she could keep going all day, and her personality -- bright, caring, almost painfully honest, full of sly (and sometimes razor-sharp) humor, totally unwilling to take guff from anyone -- could have been custom-designed to draw my interest. If I were honest with myself, she would have been a far better match for me than Patricia. But we'd never been unattached at the same time, so I'd never asked her out, even though I certainly would have if we'd both been free.
But if we'd never dated, we were good enough friends that I knew that her disdain for cheaters mirrored my own; as long as one of us was in a relationship with someone else, trying for more wasn't an option that either of us would even consider. And we'd never had a time we were both free; I'd been with Wendy we met, then she'd been together with Tom, her current guy, then after Wendy and I split up I met Patricia.
So I'd enjoyed spending time with her without flirting or trying to make it something romantic -- I don't try to break up couples, and I refuse to cheat myself. This helped throw us together on outings -- several of the guys in the group seemed quite willing to do both, and she preferred to stay close to me. But despite the low-key nature of our friendship, or maybe because of the lack of pressure, she seemed to enjoy being around me too. Over time, we had built up brother-sister sort of relationship, with lots of back and forth teasing and friendly bickering.
This felt different, though; we'd never spent as much time alone together before, even though I was one of the few men she felt comfortable being alone with. I reminded myself it shouldn't be too awkward -- if she was coming for the week, I expected Tom would be along also. And it would be good to spend some time with her while I could; just before things with Pat fell apart she'd mentioned that she was considering moving "back home" - Hong Kong - when her current project wrapped up.
ooOoo
"I didn't expect it to be just the two of us; I thought you'd be bringing Tom with you!"
I kept my eyes on the road. It wasn't snowing hard, but steadily, and US 50 is curvy. At least Amanda had agreed that it made more sense to ride with me than drive up herself; even if she'd had any experience driving in the snow my SUV was a lot better equipped for the road conditions than her sedan.
"I didn't tell anyone at work, but we split up, not too long before you broke up with Pat." I couldn't see her face, but she didn't sound terribly upset about it.
I wasn't sure what to say, so kept it brief and neutral. "Oh. OK."
"You sound like you're avoiding landmines. Don't worry about it -- I'm not unhappy about it, I just didn't want to talk to anyone about how I felt, and I'm a
lot
better at hiding my emotions than you are at picking them up, Mr. Clueless!" I kept my mouth shut. At least her voice matched her words; she sounded cheerful, mildly amused, and tolerant of my obliviousness.
"Well, maybe I'm clueless. And distracted. But you're my friend; I still should have picked up it." I changed the subject. "At least I can give you a chance to enjoy the snow before you leave."
"About that ..." She sounded hesitant, and a bit embarrassed. "I'm not leaving."
I was surprised at how happy that made me. She must have been watching my face -- her voice was much warmer as she continued. "I was down, right after the split. I was unhappy with myself, even though I knew that I'd have been even more unhappy if I'd tried to stay with him. So I thought about going home to lick my wounds. If people asked why I looked unhappy it was easier to talk about leaving than talking about the breakup. But it was still a stupid idea, and I figured that out fast. My life, my friends, and most of my family are here - my brother's living down in LA, and my sister and her kids are in Austin. Even my parents are talking about coming here after they retire."
"So why'd you let us all continue thinking you were leaving?" I tried not to sound accusing -- I really hadn't been looking forward to her leaving.
She snapped out her reply; her voice was suddenly sharp, and a bit defensive. "Because I'd never said I
was
-- just that I was thinking about doing it!" It softened as she added "Sorry -- I didn't mean to sound like a bitch. I hadn't thought people were paying attention, or most of them would really care. And I didn't want to talk more about it -- I'd talked too much already, and was embarrassed that I'd been sulking like a teenager."