Then he got out of the water, his feet planted in the snow, and he dried himself quickly with the remaining blanket, before dressing quickly. Then he set about to help her get dressed without letting too much of her body be exposed to the cold.
He realized then that she was staring, wide-eyed.
“Yes?”
“Well, I’m never going to be used to just... You being naked. But also... Are you made of ice?”
“No but there is a resistance. Or perhaps I have a comfortable relationship with it.”
“I have a comfortable relationship with fuzzy blankets.”
“Women who are half so attached to blankets should not go taking off in the blizzards.”
“Well, maybe if women who are attached to blankets were not also attached to freedom and agency, they wouldn’t.”
“Maybe those women who like blankets, freedom, and their agency, should not commit corporate espionage.”
“Maybe men who are made of ice shouldn’t be such sore losers.”
“Again. Was I a loser?” he pressed. “Or did you cheat.”
“Functionally immaterial to me.”
“So you said.”
When she was finished dressing, he looked up the side of the mountain. Thankfully, the snow had let up. “Climb on my back.”
“What?”
“I’m going to carry you up.”
“No. No. You don’t need to do... No.”
“Are you through arguing with me?”
“Yes,” she said, exasperated as she hopped up onto his back, her legs resting on his lean hips, her arms around his throat. The softness of her body pressed against his sent a lick of heat through him. How was it she did this to him? After what she’d done. After running away. After all of it. How did he still want her like this?
“This is kind of dumb,” she said. “Because I could strangle you if I wanted to.”
“And how would you get yourself off the mountain.”
“All right. That is a serious concern.”
She was silent for a while.
“I really did think I could get myself out of this with sheer determination. That’s what my father taught me, you know. Dad always said separating a person from greatness was their own unwillingness to be uncomfortable. That you had to work hard in order to achieve things, and... Once I realized that all of it was in my control... I’ve had a hard time doing things any differently. I mean, if it’s just temporary discomfort... Why not push through? That was what propelled me down the mountain tonight. Cold is just temporary discomfort.”
“Temporary discomfort that can kill you.”
“I don’t look at it that way. I didn’t. I’m just trying to explain. All these things. The long work hours, the not having relationships, the... The corporate espionage even. They are unfortunate accessories to the main goal. And what my dad taught me was that the ends always justify the means. They always do. All you have to do is... Just ignore all the things that you need.”
Her words tapered off on that last sentence. As if she suddenly heard what she had said. “The problem is, it never ends. You never arrive at a point where you go... Well. That’s enough. It’s sufficient sacrifice. No. I haven’t found that yet. It’s like you get to a point and you think... That wasn’t so bad. I can keep going. I can do it again. I can... I can keep pushing myself. I’ll catch up on sleep later. I’ll make friends later. I’ll have a relationship later. And you just chip away at yourself. At who you are and what you expect. At what you think you deserve. Until... Until it’s only work. Until it’s only work and you don’t remember anymore what it’s like to be something other than a robot.” She tightened her grip on him. “I never set out to be a robot. I just wanted to make him proud. I just loved him and I wanted to be...what he wanted me to be.”
He’d wanted that from his father once. He knew what it was like to not see. To not know.
“And I just took one little thing for myself,” she whispered.
“That night in the penthouse was your indulgence?”