Blizzard Thief

I was just starting to nod off, long drives always make me a bit sleepy. Especially when the drumming sound of icy rain was hitting the roof of the car. Flakes of ice pounded the windshield of Roger’s black Range Rover, “Fuck, guys I think it’s getting really bad.”

The car slowed to a stop, as the windshield grew cloudier, and lights from the other cars slowly dissolved into white. Wendy, who prides herself on being a true “trophy wife”, reached underneath her seat and unveiled a slender bottle of Skyy Vodka, which she twisted open with care and offered up as a solution to the blizzard outside.

Their daughter, Betsy had been my college roommate years ago, and we were heading back from Aspen for the weekend. Until the blizzard hit on I-70, and had traffic at a total standstill outside the Eisenhower tunnel. Betsy checked her phone, tapping her perfectly manicured fingernail where all the service bars should be. “Nothing” she snarked.

“Well at least we have vodka” said Roger, as he nervously watched Wendy take a swig straight from the bottle. “Wendy, could I have some?” I asked her with a smile. Her raspy voice extended from her voluptuous breasts (that were most certainly fake) and escaped from her puffy lips, “Certainly, my dear.” I secretly wished I could be like Wendy. My only job would be to effectively reverse my own aging and drink vodka next to my very rich husband as he drove our luxurious Range Rover in a Colorado snowstorm. What a perfect life, I thought.

Roger and Wendy were part of an exclusive Air-bnb for wealthy people that allowed them to stay super posh, modern homes in exotic locations across the globe. This weekend, they decided to host Betsy and friends for a getaway ski trip in Aspen, picking us up in Denver on the way. Of course, my boyfriend, Fred, had joined us along with Betsy’s brother Kevin, but they were in a separate car, about 60 yards ahead of us. I reached for my phone to call Fred to make sure they were alright, even though Betsy had just proved to me the lines were down. I unlocked my phone to double check and make sure. Just as I thought. No service. I handed Betsy the bottle of vodka.

“I actually don’t want any. Thanks anyways, Bay.” She pushed the bottle back towards my chest. “I don’t want to share bottles with a thief,” she admitted.

 I could feel my face turn hot, and my heart leap into my throat.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” I asked, nervously laughing.

“We all know what happened behind the Aspen house.” Betsy laughed, but her eyes crinkled in a suspicious manner. Wendy cackled, covering her puffy-lipped smile, and crying out “If she doesn’t admit it, then we're throwing her out in the snow!”

“Bay, you know you can talk to us,” said Roger. He was always so understanding.

“It’s okay, Bay, I know that you were going to tell me eventually.” Betsy consoled me in the fakest way possible.

The Aspen house was situated in the middle of the mountain and nestled amongst other ski-in/ski-out vacation homes. An icy, diamond ring had flown through the air, landing in the snow after hitting Fred’s ski. We were pulling in on our skis for the day, and nobody seemed to have noticed except for me, of the glorious flying gem. I took a quick look around, and couldn’t be sure who it had flown from, as a large group was parking their skis next to us, to enter the warmth of their own cabin for a nice après ski. I removed my winter mitt in order to nimbly reach my fingers in to the fluff to find it, and without a second thought, dropped it in to my left pocket. How did nobody see it? How did no one notice it went missing?

“Hey babe, you want some hot chocolate?” Fred asked me.

“Oh - yeah sure!” I blushed, hoping he hadn’t seen me reach down for anything.

I couldn’t help thinking, “Who the hell wears an engagement ring to go skiing?” Maybe whoever it belonged to had been proposed to, but finders keepers right?

Shortly after a few sips of hot chocolate, a banging on the door of the Aspen house ensued. Fred had answered the door to a frantic woman, and when he swung the door open she begged if he knew anything of the whereabouts of her diamond ring she believed she had accidentally dropped in the snow. I slunk back behind the coats and boots, hoping she wouldn’t notice me peering to listen.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry. I will ask everyone in the house, but nobody has said anything about it.” Fred explained to the woman.

“Thank you so much, I appreciate it.” The woman was on the verge of tears.

“Hey if you want to come inside, you can. We just made hot chocolate!” he offered.

Dammit Fred, why do you have to be so nice, I thought. But I couldn't wait to show him once this stupid lady left. It was her fault anyways, for being stupid enough to wear the ring on the slopes. For all she knew, it could be ANYWHERE on the mountain. Lost in the snow until it melts in the spring...

 “Mom asked me to go downstairs and grab your lip balm. You know, the good stuff you bought. And I found it in the dresser, like you didn’t think anyone would find it?” Betsy pleaded in a motherly tone.

“I – I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I stuttered.

“Yeah you do.” Betsy sneered, “And I made sure Kev would tell Fred too. He’s going to make you send it back to that lady. As if you found it while we were packing up! I mean Jesus, Bay when are you going to stop stealing shit?”

“Guys I literally, have no idea what you’re talking about.” I lied through my teeth. If only they knew what I was going through financially. I was in piles of debt, and all I could think about when I found the ring was how much it would help pay our bills. But how could I ever admit I needed financial help, to them?

 I immediately threw my face in to my hands and began sobbing.

“Oh sweetie, it’s okay.” Wendy said. Roger exhaled with stress. This wouldn’t be the first time Betsy’s family had caught me in a lie.

"You need to go to therapy - " Betsy began to drone on in a lecture, I felt I had heard far too many times.

Suddenly the snow from the blizzard was hitting harder on the windows than before. Betsy's voice began to fade. My head felt dizzy and my hands went numb. All of the color around me began to dissolve into darkness as my eyes fluttered open.

I realized I had my forehead pressed up against the cold window of the backseat. Roger was steadily pressing on the gas, inching along with the tires of the Range Rover crunching the snowy road outside. Wendy was chewing on a mouthful of caramel popcorn, and Betsy was typing away on her phone.

“Hey guys, did we stop?” I asked.

“Just for a little bit, in the traffic, but you snored through most of it.” Betsy piped. I saw the bottle of Skyy vodka lying next to her feet on the floor. Had the conversation been real? Had I fallen asleep, had it all been a dream?

I slid my hand in to the pocket of my puffer and felt around for my phone, when something cold and round grazed my index finger.

My heart stopped. Pulling out my phone, I checked my text messages from Fred. There was nothing. Then suddenly, a message popped up.

“I love you.”

I felt around in my tote bag, in the side pocket and felt the cold braids of a Rolex watch floating among a few crisp $100 bills. A wave of ecstasy came over my entire body. I remembered why Fred and I loved traveling with Betsy’s family so much.