Or so she thought. Anella spent many a night in the dark, figuratively, not sitting alone in a dark room. She postulated that everything was fine. Her lack of communication with Carl was not at all abnormal after her 3 day adventure in Whistler. This she was wrong about; failing to realise that this may have hurt his feelings, she over thought; "I will not be the first to cave in, he has not contacted me and therefore does not want to be contacted."
Carl sat there in his room waiting for his phone to buzz with the familiar "Hey babe, miss your face."
Her afternoons in whistler were spent inside the Aspens hotel with her family friends from the UK. She curled up by the fireplace in a bed of pillows reading a book, whilst trying to ignore the clattering of keyboards and tapping of ipads from her neighbouring friends. The fire was warm against her skin, when she first got off the mountain earlier in the day she was frozen and layered up, however now she was down to a t-shirt and some black long johns, her most alluring apparel she thought; only because body hugging spandex doesn't show cellulite, thankfully!
Her first day up the mountain was short, but also inversely related to how tired and sore she was. The rest of her day was spent lounging (by that I mean sarcastically mocking all the children) and drinking beers in the hot tub with Al, Hamish, and Wes.
It was suggested that Anella and Al should go out for a lager to unwind from the long day, though she felt sick and was not eager on the idea, she did not decline.
Her first night out in Whistler included a pitcher of Granville Island Lager at Citta and a Menthol cigarette. Or two. The atmosphere of the bar was suffocating, people crowded each table more than double the allowed seating. A thick scent of hot wings and body odour lingered in the air around her as she walked up the stairs to find a seat. There was one table surprisingly available in the busy bar, this most likely due to the spilled beer and trail of blood that surrounded one of the seats.
She felt sick. Alternating between being curled up with her legs on a bar stool, and stretched out with her feet on the window sill, she stared out into the night. Al spoke to her, but she was unable to register what he was saying. Looking down from the window a group of boys in long toques stood under one of the lit trees. Red lights lit up their faces, turning the previously handsome and chiseled features into something less inviting. They saw Anella staring, and smiled boyish grins, winked, waved and made pelvic thrusting motions (lets just call it "snowmen" for any younglings out there) whilst she drank her beer amused with their horseplay.
"Can I have your coaster?" Al asked, his voice sounding ever more British each time he spoke. It was becoming apparent to Anella that she clearly had already drank one too many pints. She nodded and handed it to him, not really concerned as to why he wanted it, but was sure he would tell her.
"Amy, loves collecting coasters, she has a huge collection. All over her wall, I think she has 28 now, different from all over the place!"
God you are so foreign, she thought smiling. It was awesome, 4 years living on opposite sides of the world, meeting by chance one night on vacation, by fate the next year, and realising a genuine friendship that was continuously fueled for years after; be it in the sun and sand of the Cayman Islands or the snow capped and windswept peaks of Whistler.
Her nights in Whistler were spent out on the town with Al mainly at the crowded tavern Citta, or dancing the night away at Moe Joes, and her days spent hot boxing gondolas and attempting to 360 on her plank of a snowboard, with little to no avail and many bruises as proof, (and a broken pinky toe) making her look like a leukemia patient or a victim of domestic abuse when entering the hot tub later in the day, but also made for some fun stories and small talk.
It was her last night in Whistler, and to prove that not only was she still childish at heart, but also a total stud muffin, Anella sprinted out of the hot tub and ran barefoot in her bikini to a huge mound of snow. She eyed it up and down, a treacherous hill of ice that beckoned her to climb upon it. With not a moment to spare, all eyes of the hot tub on her, Anella clambered up the icy death trap and mounted it with a classic and well loved "Cap'n Moe's pose," then shouted to Al, Wes, and Hamish to join her. They shook their heads as their parent jested and tried to coax them to go. More hot tub patrons took notice of her brave and gallant act by cheering and wooping, Al rose to the challenge. As Hamish and Wes laughed that he was bluffing, Al darted in a heartbeat over towards Anella. Once finally reaching the top of the giant peak and highfiving Anella, Al flexed for the camera and slid away.
Anella believed this would be easy as pie, but the hard and icy glacier between her legs hit her much faster than the realisation that the only sheath between her lady parts and mother nature was a flimsy piece of fabric.
Saying goodbye was always the hardest part. Her hugs too short, and her time there passed too quickly. She packed up her gear and awaited the even harder goodbye; the final one.
Her ride home with her dad was pleasent, spent listening to a mixtape of old and new eminem tracks. She was sick, and unable to speak; a voice of an old wench took the place of her deep, and alto sound. She gazed at her phone, and remained unimpressed with the lack of acknowledgement she had recieved. "I will not be the first to cave in, he has not contacted me and therefore does not want to be contacted."
Carl sat there in his room waiting for his phone to buzz with the familiar "Hey babe, miss your face."
Anella's phone began ringing the familiar "Hard to Handle" with the unfamiliar name of "Tyler" reading across the screen. Confused, she answered. The first time they had spoken in what felt like forever she couldn't help but crack a joke by shouting "It's Tyler, he want's me back; we're eloping" to her mother whose lips were mouthing the question of "Who is that?"
