The Possibilities: A Novel Read Free Page A

without being touched.
    “You look different,” Lisa says. She moves the cool brush over my cheekbones.
    “I’m not supposed to,” I say. “That’s the deal.”
    “What are you doing? Not as much eyeliner, it looks like.”
    “I’m simplifying.” I laugh, but she doesn’t look like she heard me. She’s like real hair and makeup people in that they never seem to hear the answers to their questions—or maybe they don’t respond to insincere answers. But it is an honest answer. My beauty regimen for the past months:
    I don’t use primer or my eyelash curler, and I don’t wear lipstick.
    No moonbeams, sunbeams, emulsifiers and exfoliants, or a hundred-dollar serum to make me sparkle and glow. Only now do I realize I’ve been shelling out cash for packaging and ad copy. It’s all the same product, but one month a blush will be called Beach Babe Bronzer and the next month, Angel in the Sun.
    I don’t put on the self-tanner that makes my legs itch.
    I don’t shower or shave as often. My bush looks like a gremlin and I want to keep it that way.
    I make lists in my head so I can
    check
    check
    check things off.
    “I’ve scaled back,” I say. The brush sweeps my forehead then moves down to my jawline. Smooth my eyebrows, I think. I love it when she does that. I missed it while I was gone.
    “You look good,” Lisa says. Her face is close to mine. I can smell her watermelon gum. She places her fingers on my temples and checks my eye makeup. I look to the right. I can never look back into her eyes. She presses her thumbs to my eyebrows and runs them over the arch. I relax my shoulders. This is the best part of my day.
    “Okay, let’s do this,” Holly says, and claps her hands together. I crack a smile. Everything is so silly to me.
    Mike brings the camera to his shoulder.
    Katie breathes out, then sits up straighter.
    I’m ready. Ready for this thing, this job. I will try harder because it’s not just me here.
    “Okay, clap,” Mike says.
    Katie and I clap.
    “And we’re rolling,” Mike says.
    “What a gorgeous morning,” I say to the camera. “Absolutely beautiful.” And it is. It really is. I can still recognize this. I can still love feeling so close to the sun and peaks of mountains, still love life at this altitude—it makes me feel like every breath counts.
    “Seriously,” Katie says. “Seriously amazing, and every lift is up and running. I can’t wait for all the snow that’s supposed to come tonight!”
    I try to smile and eventually get it up. Up and down. Smile reps. Exercising the muscle.
    “It makes everything worth it,” Katie says. “Even if you don’t ski, the snow just gives you that warm cozy feeling. Makes me want to run out and condo shop! Now, Sarah, you’re a big skier, right?”
    “I try to get out there,” I say, “but I haven’t in a while.”
    “I’ve just heard from the COO of Breckenridge Resorts, Richard Fowler, that lift ticket prices have gone up seven dollars.” Katie makes a pained expression. Then she shrugs her shoulders. On camera she always looks like she’s playing a game of charades.
    “But I guess that’s not too bad,” she says. “The new gondola goes right to the lots. Holds eight passengers and I’ve heard rumors of future heat and Wi-Fi. And the views of Cucumber Gulch are amazing.”
    She looks at me.
    “They are amazing,” I say.
    “And once you’re up there, the lifts are amazing too—the seats are so plush, I could sleep in ’em. Padded seats, fiberglass shields, lots of room, and safe—I know there’s a responsive braking system and load-sensing devices. I could just ride that thing all day long! Best part of the lifts is they go to places like the Vista Haus, where you can have a beer, a glass of wine, some onion soup, or one of their famous mammoth burritos. I guess you get what you pay for! And that’s a lot!”
    I can’t speak. How could I possibly speak? That was remarkable. That was preparation.
    “What else do