THE WORST OF LOVE CONTESTANT

Tony woke to dappled light glowing through the curtains.  Tessa was still asleep.  He watched, wanting to stroke her hair but just let his hand hover for a moment, before drawing back and slipping from the bed.

 
In the chalet’s kitchen corner he made pancakes and coffee.  Crisp sunlight filled the nook, making every surface sparkle, and the snow outside smoothed the ground, almost blending the pines into the slope.

 
As the coffee percolated, he took cups from the mantle next to the urn and sighed.  Such an exquisite woman, and he had the ring, but she could be so quirky.  The yard sale obsession, buying old junk every weekend when she had all the money in the world.  And now this idiosyncrasy.  Who brings their grandmother’s urn on vacation to Aspen?

 
“Hey you,” Tessa said when he brought breakfast in.  She’d parted the curtains a little and the light made her skin glisten like the snow.  She was sitting up, reading Dickens.

 
“Hi yourself.”

 
“How’s the snowbase?”

 
“Fifteen inches, I’m guessing.”  He put the tray on her knee and she grinned, taking the plate of pancakes.

 
“Ha!  We can ski all day.”  She poured maple syrup over the stack.

 
“That’s the plan.”  He had other plans, well, he would still get some skiing, but he’d been waiting for this perfect moment.

 
“Then let’s get going.”  She crammed a forkful into her mouth, making her cheeks bulge and her eyes bug out.  She reached forwards to kiss him.

 
“You’re insane,” he said as she grabbed him and they tumbled laughing to the floor.

 
She swallowed then grabbed the bottle and pulled his robe open.

 
“Don’t you da-”

 
She poured a thin stream of the sticky liquid onto his chest.  He grabbed her wrist.

 
“Cut it out,” he said, but he was still laughing.

 
She didn’t try to escape his grip, just bent down.

 
“Mmm,” he said, releasing her.

 
Tessa poured again, smeared it around him then licked it away while he moaned.

 
*
Later, after showering, they dressed and warmed the Cherokee’s engine.  Her parents’ chalet was up a long steep drive, and the snow was deep.

 
“I don’t want to dig all that out,” he said.

 
“Don’t worry.”  She racked their skis.  “I’ve been coming up here for years.  Since I was a kid.  I can drive us down.”

 
Tony raised his eyebrows, but didn’t argue, as they climbed in.  “Back up,” he said.

 
She grinned.  “Don’t need to.”

 
The vehicle edged forwards.

 
“Hey,” he said.

 
“It’s okay.”

 
The Cherokee bucked then slipped and turned a little.  Tessa plunged the accelerator and the back end shuddered, fishtailing.  Tony clutched his seat.  The drop was right there.  Hidden by the softening snow.

 
The tires gripped and the car jerked.  Then they were speeding down the driveway, the wheels sluicing snow away, Tessa laughing.  “God, I love that,” she said.  “Love that raw power.”

 
“You’re terrifying.”

 
“That’s okay, sweetie,” she said, glancing over.

 
“Eyes on the road.”

 
“I watch you on the slopes ,” she said, correcting the little slide that was developing.  “And that scares me lots.”

 
“I’ve been skiing since I was a kid,” he said.

 
“Yeah, me too.”

 
“I know, but …”

 
“It’s okay, I’m timid on skis, but I have fun.”

 
They reached blacktop and bumped down, the snow tires thrumming on the tarmac.
*
They parked at the Highlands lot and showed their passes.  Tony held her close as they waited for the lift.  He could hardly bear it, waiting for the moment.

 

On the chair they sat next to a couple who barely noticed them, they were so busy with each other.  Tessa winked at him and mouthed, “Young love.”
He didn’t reply.  The ring felt heavy in his pocket.

 
In the chill vaporous air at the top they jumped off the chair.  The couple skied away, leaving Tony and Tessa alone.

 
Tessa pointed towards the trees.  “I guess you’ll head that way?”

 
“I …”

 
“I’m taking the beginners’ run.”  She turned to the main slope.  “At least until I get a better feel.”

 
“Sure … that’s …”

 
“You sound nervous.”

 
“Yeah …” He pulled out the ring box.  Suddenly he felt the cold, and the world had gone quiet.

 
“Oh,” Tessa said.

 
“I was … kind of, well, thinking that …”

 
“Shhh, silly,” she said.  She reached up to kiss him.  Her lips were cold, but warmed quickly.  Then she pulled back and smiled.  “Even though I can’t work a cell phone?”

 
“Yeah.”

 
Tessa pulled her goggles over her eyes, and turned to begin her run.

 
“Aren’t you going to-”

 
She pushed away and hollered back over her shoulder.  “Tell you at the bottom.”

 
He watched her go, tempted to follow, then glanced at the trees.  She needs a moment, he thought.  Even though the waiting would kill him, he decided on the more challenging run.

 
Setting off he picked up pace on the prepared snow, then moved off-piste and flew near the trees.  He twisted and turned, glad he’d bought Dynastars. 

 

The pines went by at ninety and for a moment he forgot about Tessa and fell into the moment.

 
Something blurred across his path.  A fox?

 
He turned, lurched.  His ankle wrenched and he tumbled.  He was flung back upright and smacked head-on into a tree.

*
Tony woke on the fur rug by the fire in Tessa’s family chalet.  Sitting up he touched his head.  No mark.

 
He looked around and saw Tessa sitting cross-legged with her back to the fire.  She was cradling the urn.

 
“Tessa?” he said.

 
She held up the urn.  “Not my grandmother’s.”

 
“What?”

 
“In 1953 I flipped my father’s Plymouth on the drive.”

 
He thought of the 1950s radio she’d bought at a sale.  A ghost.  She’d touched him.  “How can I see you?”

 
“That takes practice,” she said.

 
“Practice?”

 
“Mmm,” she looked up, smiling now.  “But we’ll have plenty of time.  This was by your body.”  She held up the ring.  “My answer is yes.”

 

 

Sean Monaghan can ski about as well as he can cook (which is to say, poorly).  He can, however, build a mighty fine (and frankly pretty scary) snowman.  More information about Sean’s writing can be found at his website www.venusvulture.com.

                                    SUMMER CHILLER CONTESTANT

Prudence climbed the pool gate, hiding again.  The house windows were dark, the pool abandoned, greened with algae and speckled with dead insects.

A place to cry.

Beyond the fence she could see over Williams, the freeway and hazy plains that stretched towards the Grand Canyon.  Her mother’s home was just visible behind some young pines.

She watched a cockchafer clawing across the water.  As she reached out to help the insect, she glanced up and saw a man inside the dark house staring at her.

Prudence slipped on the slick tiles, made it to the gate and scraped over.  She ran, dodging pines and bushes until she could hardly breathe.

***
Cuttrell watched the girl flee.  He’d been sipping coffee as she sat on the pool edge in tears.  She was probably sixteen and he wondered what would make her so sad.  Before he could step out to offer comfort, she ran off, leaping the fence and racing through the ponderosas.  He sighed and finished his coffee.

In his bedroom he began unpacking.  He’d slept all day after his flights from Christchurch, and now had the night to tidy and catch up on baseball.  It was always hard, arriving back, remembering why he felt so driven away.
***
Prudence stood in the breezeway, her moment of panic over.  She could see the neighbour’s roof.  All winter the pool had festered, then suddenly there was someone in the house.  Watching.

“Prudence, you out there?” her Mom yelled.  “You done your homework?”
Prudence sighed.  At least her father had gone out. 
***
Around midnight, baseball done, Cuttrell examined the pool.  He knew he should winterize it each August, but always left it too late.  Just as coming back was hard, leaving again tore at his heart.  Memories of the night he couldn’t stop the killer from asphyxiating them.

With a siphon he drained the pool.  He scrubbed and hosed it down, conscious of keeping quiet.  A little grout and it was ready.  At 3am he stood on the edge looking across the slowly filling pool.  Time to turn in.  Last year he’d stayed on New Zealand time for the eight weeks in Arizona and hadn’t had any jetlag when he returned.  If he could get residency he would move down permanently.  Arizona was not far enough away from Massachusetts.
***
The bus dropped Prudence and she walked to the end of Adobe Drive.  At least she could enjoy the forest before going home.  The neighbour’s back gate was open.  Unusual.  Was the owner out walking?  She went across and looked through.

The pool was full.  Clean, rippling, icy-looking water.
***
Cuttrell had jogged through the forest trails, breathing hard.  At 3.30pm he called the lab; it was mid-morning in Christchurch.  He talked to Andy briefly, got the usual clichés about how lucky he was to have two summers.  Christchurch was frosted over again.

Really Cuttrell wanted to be far far away from where Daphne and Claire had breathed their last.

But he just said, “See, we wouldn’t be doing any diving anyway.”  After a few more minutes, he rang off and looked outside.  That girl was back.
***
Prudence dipped her foot in.  Warmer than she’d expected.  She couldn’t see anyone.

She could get her things and go for a swim.

Would they mind?

She ran through the gate and back home.  Her father was yelling and her mother yelling back, then that sound of flesh smacking flesh, and her mother hitting the wall.

Her father shot past her and leapt into his car, speeding off.

“Mom?” Prudence turned to the living room.

He mother was upright, straightening her hair.  “He’s trying hard,” she said.

“We should leave,” Prudence said.  “Somewhere he can’t find us this time.”

“He just needs to cool off.  He loves us.  He wouldn’t hurt you.”

“You’ve never seen my bruises?”

“Oh baby,” her mother said.  “He doesn’t mean it.”  She hugged Prudence, squeezing much too hard, weeping.

Prudence edged back to sit on the sofa.  She stroked her Mom’s hair and eventually the tears stopped.

Prudence woke after dark, her mother asleep on her lap, face swollen and mottled.

I wish he was dead, Prudence thought.  She slipped out from under and went to her room, remembered her plan to swim.  She grabbed her bikini, changed and wrapped herself in a towel.  She hesitated, seeing her clock.  11.30pm.

Screw it, she thought.
***
After he’d seen her come through the gate and depart, Cuttrell watched some baseball and traded some shares.  Strange to be home, but never feel at home.  But after the strangler had been freed Cuttrell could barely stand to be stateside.

He put his bathing trunks on and went to the pool.  Water rejuvenates, he thought.

Soon after, she came to the gate and stood a moment before stepping onto the tiles.  “Late swim,” she said.

“It’s cooler.”  He trod water.  “John Cuttrell.”

“Prudence.  You were watching me.”

“You were trespassing.”

“I thought the place was abandoned.  But you filled the pool.”

“Just got back.”

“From?”

“New Zealand.  Did you come to swim?”

“Sure.”  She dropped the towel, then cocked her head at a sound.  “That’s Dad.  Probably come back to apologise to Mom.”

“Apologise?”

“We got away for a while, but Mom’s pathetic.  He found us and moved in.”

Then there was a man at the gate, in denims, cowboy boots and a scuffed Cardinals cap.  He stared for a moment.

“What,” he said, “is going on here?” He strode over and grabbed Prudence’s arm.

Prudence squealed, stumbling.

“Hey,” Cuttrell said.

“I’ll take care of you later, Mr midnight fucking swimmer.”  He pushed Prudence towards the gate.

Cuttrell kicked and hauled himself from the pool as Prudence pushed the man.  “You can’t do this anymore,” she yelled.

The man punched her across the face.  Prudence collapsed into the rough garden.  Breathing hard, Cuttrell rushed over.  He knew whatever happened was going to hurt.

“Huh,” the man said and shunted Cuttrell towards the pool.  Prudence launched herself and as the man collected Cuttrell, Prudence hit them from behind. 

They all fell into the pool.

Cuttrell wrapped his arms around him and the man struggled, but he had a lot of lean mass and they dropped to the bottom.  Cuttrell clung on and the man screamed, sending out a vortex of bubbles.  The killer was disoriented, frightened even.  Cuttrell could stay down for minutes.  Not a record time, but long enough.

The man squirmed, but his strength had drained away in panic.  Breathe in, you bastard, Cuttrell thought, breath in.  In another few moments it would be over.

Then Prudence was pounding on Cuttrell’s shoulder, tugging at his elbow, trying to drag them apart.

Cuttrell released and the man exploded for the surface.  Cuttrell came up beside them, watched Prudence help her father to the side.

“He might be a bad man,” she said, “But he’s still my father.”

“Yeah,” Cuttrell said.  He’d nearly taken revenge on the wrong person. 

He watched the gasping, frightened man, who’d never even known Daphne and Claire, clutching at the edge and realised that Prudence would be okay.

2009 Sean Monaghan

Sean Monaghan spends most seasons in New Zealand, enjoys swimming, running and visits to Arizona.  Sean’s stories have appeared in New Flesh Magazine, MicroHorror and 365Tomorrows, among others.  More information at his website: http://www.venusvulture.com”>www.venusvulture.com