Page 41 of Mazywood

Imani looked at Tasha and Johnny for approval to start her run. Tasha’s heart thrummed with the familiar anxiety that usually kept her from joining Johnny when he took them snowboarding. Tasha nodded to Imani. She was as ready as she would ever be.

“Don’t try to go as fast as me,” Imani said to Sharise over her shoulder.

Then Imani launched herself down the initial steep grade that made Tasha afraid she would tumble and break her neck—but Imani was the master of her snowboard, fearless. She corrected her approach with a spray of snow and hunched over to gain speed.

Sharise followed, much more unsure, struggling to gain control of her snowboard until she finally found her rhythm, arms shooting out for balance at times. But she stayed on her feet, trailing far behind her younger sister. Imani was headed for the ramp.

“She’s going to jump, isn’t she?” Tasha said.

Johnny nodded, resigned. “Yep.”

“What if it’s not—”

Before Tasha could finish the thought, Imani was flying. Despite the breathtaking height she reached, the jump was so straightforward that Tasha could tell that Imani was working up her nerve. Testing the ramp. Tasha fought not to cover her eyes, and Imani landed in a perfect skid. Sharise cheered.

“Great jump, Imani!” Johnny called.

With Imani safely racing down the remainder of the trail, and Sharise following at a more careful pace, Tasha allowed herself to marvel at the sight of her two daughters exploring this sport. She could hardly believe they had only been snowboarding for two years—especially Imani. Should they invest in more proper lessons? Could Imani have a future in the sport?

Johnny usually was the one who urged Tasha to relax when they watched Sharise and Imani on their snowboards, but he looked distracted. Agitated. “So,” he began, rocking back on his heels, “guess how many gas cans were in the back?”

Tasha took a second to remember the gas station, which felt days behind them. “Didn’t you buy three?”

“Yep,” he said. “But there’s only one now.”

Tasha kept her eyes on her daughters weaving down the slope, but she watched Johnny’s flexed jaw out of the corner of her eye. “So that means…?”

“Imani forgot to pack two of them. We didn’t check after her.”

“Shit,” Tasha said. Imani got annoyed if they supervised her, but it was risky not to.

“Yeah—shit.”

Imani raced to the end of the run and deftly avoided the trees as she circled back to meet Sharise. Tasha couldn’t exhale until she saw Sharise do the same, although Sharise nearly fell as she came to a stop. Imani steadied her sister. Only then did Tasha stop waiting to exhale. She probably wouldn’t be able to watch them go down again.

“How bad did we need that gas?” Tasha said.

“If the power stays on, we won’t need it at all,” Johnny said. “But if it goes out, we don’t know how much gas is already in there. Should I drive back?”

Thirty minutes there, thirty minutes back. It wouldn’t be as bad a drive if the snow didn’t start up again, but he might end up driving in fading daylight and a new snowfall from the bloated clouds. “Gets dark early now,” she said. “I don’t like that drive back so late. Do you?”

Johnny shook his head. “Nope.”

She reached into his pocket to squeeze his fingers and share the warmth. “Then don’t. Electricity’s working fine.”

Distantly, they heard Imani and Sharise celebrating their first time down the slope. As an only child, Tasha sometimes envied their bond, and she knew Johnny did too. But they would be there for each other long after she and Johnny were gone. Another advantage they had given their daughters.

Tasha rested her head against Johnny’s soft upper arm, avoiding his jutting shoulder.

“What happened here, Johnny?” she finally said.

“I decided it was time to fix it up.”

“I mean when you were a kid.”

Johnny’s arm went rigid, an urge to pull away. Instead, he relaxed. Sighed in a fog.

“Not now—later,” he said. Then his voice became less clipped: “Babe, I just…”